Your Sweet Face Is Turning Cold

by applepride

Summary:

When Harley gets turned, Tony offers to help by bringing him to New York. Everyone’s on edge at the almost-threat Thanos produced, and the new villain in town isn’t making life any easier. Tony’s plate is overfull, he wants to help Harley with his problem but is pulled away for Avengers meetings more often than not.

Unfortunately, Harley ends up finding himself in the middle of everything, and Spider-man inadvertently being his knight and shining armour, is always right at there with him. It doesn't make things easier that Harley is pretty sure Spidey is flirting with him, of all things.

Or. The vamp-au with more twilight references and extra slow burn parkner since they’re idiots in love <3

title from 'so i danced' by dpr ian

Notes:

WARNING. There is a lot of blood, violence, explosions, and disassociation in this fic. Harley does not know when he's disassociating, and he's really good at pretending everything's fine when its not. Please head this warning.

this chapter was beta'd by my lovely partner, basil <3

Chapter title from "Girl Next Door", from the show 'my babysitter's a vampire'

Chapter 1: ‘Cause She’s Got That Small-town Charm

A lot has changed since Tony left Harley back in Rose Hill. The Civil War, Thanos, amending of the Accords, etcetera... The war had ended quickly, Thanos had been killed in Wakanda in an almost-too-close call, and when Tony got home he knew he’d wanted to keep those dear to him within protecting range. The once-a-week phone call wasn’t gonna cut it anymore, and he’d heard about Harley’s situation barely a month before the battle, and he knew he could help. He’d even heard from Ms Keener the worries she has for her son, confiding in him that she hadn’t a clue how to handle it long term.

 

July 8th, 2018. At 9pm on that Sunday evening,  Harley Keener landed in New York. Tony met him in the terminal, ready to bring him home. Four and a half weeks from the incident, and two from the fight with Thanos.

 

What was visible of the teen’s face had been overly pale. His cheeks were slightly hollow, and — with how he was bundled — he looked cold. He was wearing black-ish blue jeans with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He’d been wearing a black long-sleeve beneath a dark green flannel, and a gold coloured scarf. Besides his gloves and beanie matching the scarf, he’d also worn a pair of dark sunglasses to hide his eyes from view. It wasn’t cold, not at all, but in the middle of the busy terminal no one would be questioning his outerwear. He could be coming from Alaska for all they knew.

“Hey, kid.” Tony spoke, a small pleased smile on his face. Something about seeing him for the first time in a while made his heart warm.

 

The sunglasses came off in a fluid motion, a grin painting Harley’s expression similarly. “Mechanic, I’m shocked. I had half the mind to think that Friday was simply automating your calls at this point.” Tony gave him a pointed — yet amused — look. “What? Who knows what the girl can do at the rate she's gotta have been learnin’? I could have been talking to an A.I. this whole time, for all I know.”

 

“Oh, if only I’d thought of that,” Tony joked, putting on a pseudo flippant front that Harley knew was just for show. “It would’ve saved me… What, three hours a week? Maybe closer to twenty if I did it for all my work calls. I could’ve been doing a lot in that time!” He turned to Harley after a second, his voice losing some sense of joviality and turning into something more serious. “I’m glad you’re here, kid.”

 

Crimson red eyes stared up at him, “Me too.”

 

♡

 

Tony knew the same day that Harley had been turned. The kid had called him, panting on the phone while clear tears fell from his eyes. Harley had never been upset like that. He got angry sometimes; at school or while talking about how his little sister had accidentally broken something he’d taken weeks to build, but the anger never lasted. Everything he’d channel into humour or sheer determination. He was fine while he talked about his father, and he always seemed more of a ‘comprehend it and move on’ type of person, so it was quite startling when he answered the call on the verge of tears.

 

“ Tony. I don’t know what to do. ” He’d said simply. And, before Tony could ask, he’d delved into the story. Though he couldn’t see him, having not been using the video feature in the moment, it was clear when Harley stopped to keep himself from letting sobs escape. His voice wavered before and after, and it broke Tony’s heart -- especially to hear all that happened. 

 

The mechanic had been very close to having Happy take his jet and fly over, effective immediately, but Harley —  trying to imitate calm —  told him not to. “ Ma knows. She's currently in the kitchen telling Abby. I just- I just wanted to tell you. ” A pause. “ We knew nothin’ ‘bout this, the guy, before he did it, he just seemed nuts so I wasn’t really listenin’. He was just some kook at the diner, n’ there are more than a few of those. Ma said the diner has cameras, and she’ll check ‘em when she goes back, but I know he said ‘you can barely enjoy food anymore’ which, when I told Ma, she said it might mean I’ll be able to. That it's not all like the movies. ” That I’m not a monster was left unsaid, but Tony could hear it in his tone, fast paced and frantic as it was. Even the small thing resembling joviality fell flat, and he thought he’d never heard Harley sound that broken.

 

Now, with the kid before him, he could see the sheer damage the change was doing, and he regretted not coming when first called. Harley looked frail, the bones in his hands almost poked out of his skin when he took off his gloves, and his eyes had a sad-distant look to them. His pale expression did nothing to aid the smaller fragmented parts about him. They lay distantly in his hands, and Tony wanted to do nothing more than put each shard back together again. His smile hadn’t really reached his eyes in their calls after the fact, and that expression was hard to see on someone as young as seventeen.

 

“I’m a lot colder now, can’t thermoregulate even if I drink.” The ‘ what’ was a given, “Ma and I tested what foods I can eat, meats mostly, and I did a few overall tests after the first week of freaking out.” Harley’d stated, setting his suit-case down in the living room of Tony’s new place. He hadn’t moved into the compound completely, and wanted to be in Manhattan while working out the new buildings Stark Industries would be taking over. A whole new building for their electronics division and another one for research and development, while the third was purely public relations, offices, and a call centre. His company was more tech-based now, similar to how it was in the fifties. At home appliances, phones, anything that could help the everyday person. 

 

He’d bought a townhouse near Lincoln Square, something Pepper had done up just before they sold the tower, and it was nice. Tony spent his time between there and the compound most weeks, while Pepper lived there full time. They were partners, but not romantically. Pepper had helped him through figuring out that what they were for each other was not what lovers had. They loved each other in a more platonic way, still deep rooted in care for each other -- in a relationship that meant far more than just friends. They were to be married, but Pepper loved him differently than he loved her, and she knew that. They still worked well together like a well oiled machine and Tony wouldn’t have anyone else by his side. She was out currently, checking in on their office centre while Tony met with Harley. She knew, of course, but they didn't know if Harley would be comfortable with more than Tony at the minute.

 

The townhouse was good, a nice brownstone to add comfort and familiarity. It was a place he could, theoretically, raise a kid in. He’d built security measures up the wazoo for the whole place and the block had 24-hour security — discrete, he might add —, and despite not being sure about it at first, he knew the homey-ness could help Harley in the long run.

 

“What types of tests did you do?” Tony settled himself on the couch and he gestured for Harley to do the same.

 

The teen followed suit, “Labs, personal strength, stress test, pretty much seeing if the media ever got anything right.”

 

“Did it?”

 

Harley gave a less than stellar laugh. “Not really, no. I'm a tad faster, but I’m not as physically strong. I don't bruise or feel a lot of pain — my skin and muscles are definitely more dense — but my bones would break if enough force is applied. My skin is tougher, it's harder to pierce, but I found that's why silver is seen as painful in most books. It works the best for drawing blood.” He paused, thinking more. “A lot of stuff seems to be something a normal human person would've seen, but made their own explanations for it.”

 

“Right. Okay.” Tony spoke, assessing Harley’s observations, his hand already itching for his phone. ( He didn’t let his mind linger on the implications of any of Harley’s words, that was definitely something for later. ) He wanted to work out what he could do to help as soon as possible. “I have a few things we can do. We can call the resident Wizard and have Cho help with some more refined tests, and maybe have Banner help me with some medication or something that might help with your fainting spells — perhaps also figure out the cause while we're at it — but!” He looked down at the boy, giving a warm smile while looking him directly in the eyes. Harley simply looked a mix of tired while trying a brave face, it looked forward to his usual demeanor. “First things first, we should get you something to eat and then a well needed nap. You look tired, kid.”

 

Harley didn't discredit the observation, all but faltering. There wasn't much hiding the look of ‘tired’ to Tony Stark, he who practically invented the mere idea of exhaustion. “I don't wanna sleep, I slept the whole plane ride here and I slept last night.” He argued, before taking in a breath, apprehensive with his next words. “I- I haven't not looked tired since it happened.” He admitted.

 

Tony knew Harley. He knew Harley would tell him what he needed whenever and would tell him things outright. He was a quick thinker and sometimes knew Tony better than he knew himself. Which means, Tony relented as he spoke further, “Alright then, I trust you.” He told the kid, “Now then, we're contacting the wizard, right after you eat. Bruce and Cho are still at the compound and won't be coming until tomorrow.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Tony had gotten a list before Harley had been shipped off, from Ms Keener herself. Some of the boy’s new ‘favourite’ foods and drinks, things he could stomach. Ms Keener was rich by no means, and despite any help Tony offered she refused to take more than two thousand dollars a month, and that was only after Tony had signed to be the kids’ second legal guardian. It was a promise to take care of them if something were to happen to her, and he did his best to be there for the two when needed. And though he was closer to Harley, thanks to shared experience, Abby was still a firecracker who ended up calling him ‘dad’ after his decently frequent visits. He wanted to help the two as much as he could, and it started with helping the boy who needed it most: Harley.

 

After being given the list, Tony had rolled up his sleeves and broken out whatever cooking abilities his mother taught him. Black pudding, blood soup, pork liver stir fry, and a ton of recipes with animal heart. Besides that, any usual food was reduced to things like red meats, broth, water-based drinks like tea or coffee, and water itself. Everything else was said to make the kid sick, is what Ms Keener told him.

 

Tony got up from his seat in one swift motion. “I made a few things for when you got here, I didn't know which one you liked most, so I made a few of the options.” He explained, gesturing with his hands. A part of him was worried the list was wrong, despite knowing Ms Keener had made them before. “I’ll grab them and we can eat in here.”

 

He watched as Harley nodded in understanding, and he left the room to grab the food from the warmer. He’d made the black pudding, chee ilicher, and czarnina. Ms Keener said he liked chee ilicher most, and so he may or may not have gone overboard on making it.

 

When Tony brought the dishes out, it was with two plates, two forks, and two spoons. He set the items out on the coffee table and went back for the brewed sweet tea from a place he knew Harley had liked last time he’d visited New York, poured in two cups with ice and a lemon slice each. Harley’s with a straw, because he’d been subject to one too many frantic rants when the Keener household had run out of straws, from Abby and Harley both.

 

When he came out with the tea, Harley’s face lit up, subtly as if he tried to hide it. “Tryna get me on your good graces, old man?”

 

“If getting on your ‘good graces’ means you not blowing up my lab, again? Then, yes.” He handed the strawed glass to the kid and sat down with his own. Tony sipped it once before setting it down, moving then to serve the plates.

 

Harley didn't really mention much about it , unless Tony prompted. His long sleeves kept his arms covered, where he knew the bite was, and the way he tried keeping his eyes down didn't go unnoticed. Tony — ever the generous and eccentric billionaire that more than a few people knew him as — offered to make him some sunglasses that'd use holograms to hide his eyes while not impairing his sight, or get him basic coloured contacts once the topic was breached.

 

He’d received a scrunched up nose at the thought of contacts, some off comment about that being ‘a bad idea twilight already explored’, but a go ahead on the sunglasses. Tony segued that into showing Harley his new lab upstairs — and the discrete elevator he’d installed, much to Pepper’s chagrin. The lab had originally been two different rooms, big enough themselves, but after taking down a wall and putting in a whole new set of blast proof paneling, it was then converted into a well working lab. When he’d first bought it, it’d been a little project. Unlike Stark Tower, his Malibu estate that was currently underwater, and the Avengers Compound, he didn't build it. He fixed it up, but overall it was the original external architecture well-known for that area of Lincoln Square — even harboring a bay window in two of the guest rooms and his upstairs lab.

 

The interior he tried keeping the same — vintage looking for Pepper’s taste — with modern touches for his, and he’d deliberately bought two of the townhouses beside each other to expand and have more room. Then combined, it amounted to a third of the size of his Malibu house. The main part of the house was the first building, bedrooms, indoor pool, study, two different living rooms, an industrial kitchen, etc. But, the second house was much smaller, and it only had his lab, a small kitchen, and his server room -- which he’d bolted the original doors shut, and put in an entryway to their home so he could work easily. He may have referred to himself as mostly retired, but Natasha had told him one too many times how similar to Clint he was.

 

At around midnight, Pepper came home. She said her ‘hellos’ through F.R.I.D.A.Y. and Harley had all but ran towards the elevator, his usual step just a tad faster than what should've been humanly possible. Tony mentally marked that fact and followed him.

 

Their meeting was quaint, Pepper kissed his forehead and asked him how the flight was, and if Tony had gotten him dinner yet. She didn't mention what’d happened or even brought up his recently changed eye colour, and treated him all the same. Harley seemed to revel in it.

 

Pepper offered for them to watch a movie, if he wasn't tired already, and he simply smiled and agreed. They ended the night in a pile of satiated limbs while the T.V. played a soft hum of whatever movie tried playing next, with the resident A.I. having set it to nearly zero percent volume. 

 

In the early morning after, Tony moved the still sleeping Harley to his new bedroom, and made his way to the lab. He had a few people he needed to call.

 

Strange, for one. As much as the man got on his nerves, he knew from any of his searches during the past month that science wouldn't answer much when it came to Harley’s ‘ condition’ . It ground his gears to admit it, but it was easier to accept when it came to Harley. 

 

But after Strange, there was a scheduled call with the kid’s new school, confirming the decision to send him there while also pre-confirming his dual enrollment status and his classes.

 

A short and grating Avengers meeting followed, unfortunately a necessity given how they dealt with the damned purple alien, and updating him on Peter’s official training. Just because Harley had arrived, didn't mean the day was any less a Monday. He was ready for his second cup of coffee by the time he’d started his fourth call. Fortunately, it was a small informal thing; just a quick minute to call his car for later.

 

♡

 

Harley was both excited and terrified to live in New York City. He’d visited a couple of times, but more often than not Tony seemed to like visiting them in Rose Hill. He said it was quiet.

 

New York held some of the world’s best superheroes and villains, was the epicenter for immigration and tourism, and was the famed birthplace of many celebrities. From Captain America to Marc Anthony; New York was simply a hotspot for anything and everything. 

 

Rose Hill, on the other hand, was known for one or two country singers who’d ended up coked up after making music as a teen — though that news didn't make its way much out of the south.

 

It was probably for a reason , Harley thought, as his tongue traced the canines in his mouth. They, even after a month, still felt slightly intruding and very much confused him. His bottom teeth had merged seemingly overnight, leaving small — barely noticeable to anyone who didn't know — gaps where his canines rested. Those, on the other hand, weren't as inconspicuous as the holes. Harley didn't have much of a problem hiding them, they acted kind of like snake teeth. When he was hungry, they poked out a tad more. He could draw them out when he wanted, and they were more than tied to his emotions — this being especially shown when some asshole tried catcalling Abby last time they’d gone to Nashville — but overall he was aware when keeping them at bay. He wasn't nescient when they poked out just a tad too much and his Mama’s smile turned tight, trying her best to be understanding and respectful. She was too good, even when it scared her.

 

His reflection in the mirror was fairly normal for playing as human, which he didn't know if he should be thankful or upset about. He could see his nearly hollow cheeks and how all colour had since left his face. He’d watched before how his chest stuttered while breathing, as if it didn't know if it needed to or if it was just a formality — he assumed the latter, but something in him said he couldn't stop. The scar on his skin from when he was eleven had healed over, a gouge in his chin from falling on concrete. His skin was flawless otherwise, pale as a ghost and in what resembled an undead body. 

 

His lips, once pink with blood flow, had turned quickly into something of a shade of ballet slipper that looked a little sickly. Inside his mouth was, luckily, still somewhat pinkish. Lighter than usual, something that’d make a regular doctor worry no doubt, but still somewhat human. He’d taken into the habit of wearing tinted chapstick — because apparently he was still susceptible to chapped lips, which has got to be some cosmic joke — and it helped with being perceived just as ‘his usual self’.

 

Some things didn't make sense. His hair still seemed to grow, but his pulse had been next to nothing. His eyes were red — which didn't even scientifically make much sense in the long run — but his eyesight hadn't changed much. He could feel sun just fine, any burns healed pretty quickly, but in an odd way he couldn't describe, any sun on his skin made him feel deeply uncomfortable . 

 

Harley sighed, looking down from his reflection. He was supposed to be leaving with Tony in less than fifteen minutes, to gods know where before meeting the ‘Wizard’ that the mechanic kept talking about. He was half dressed, wearing a red long sleeve shirt and a pair of straight legged jeans. He planned on pairing it with a cream coloured button down sweater vest with a yellow, red, and blue argyle pattern. Plus, accessories to match — Abby had gotten him into the habit of dressing like a posing poster of her pinterest boards since she downloaded the app, and unfortunately now everything he owned was tethered to a set outfit.

 

Setting down the brush in his hand, something he’d been using before he got all stuck in his head, and walked back into his room from the adjoining bathroom. He grabbed the sweater vest from his desk, once folded neatly, and threw it on, keeping it unbuttoned. After, he’d taken a moment to grab the small jewellery box Abby gifted him, and took out a few rings and necklaces to layer. All gold coloured and ‘dainty’ , as his sister would say.

 

It was lethargic, and he let out a sigh as he slid the last ring on.

 

“ Mr Keener, Miss Potts is asking if you’d like to join her for coffee after your meeting with the Wizard and Boss. ” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang through the room, a pink-ish coloured light glowing at her words, illuminating a small orb by his door to signal her speaking. 

 

Pepper was nice, and acted like a sort of bonus mom whenever she was around. She knew everything Tony did, for the sake of her being the other parent in the house, and she hadn't seemed to make much of a deal about what he was. He debated it strongly for a second, similarly not wanting to seem like some sort of reason for her to be uncomfortable. “Uh.”

 

But , he let his mind think selfishly, She didn't seem to mind.

 

“Sure.” He let out, despite his hesitation, ”Just ask her to message me where I should go after, if she wants to meet here or somewhere else.”

 

Harley left his room soon after, lacing up his red Chuck Taylor's before grabbing his wallet and phone. The small chain hanging off the end made a tapping sound as it’d clinked against his phone, in his back pocket. His hair was a tad longer than he normally kept it, and it fell in his eyes and on the nape of his neck. He had a small clip he’d used to keep it from around his ears, but he’d regrettably left it on the coffee table when they’d all fallen asleep watching a movie the night before. 

 

He took the elevator down, and was greeted with the sight of Pepper grabbing her keys and purse, clad in a lavender two piece skirt-suit with a tweed sort of look. Her hair was drawn back into a low ponytail, and had a Stark Tablet in her hands. She hadn't spot Harley at first, seemingly entranced in whatever's on the tablet, and reading it with a furrowed brow. But, just before she took a step closer towards the front door, at the opposite end of the room, she took a second to look around, which is when she spots him. 

 

“Harley, good morning!” She greets, cheerily, making a move to click off the tablet and tuck it into her purse. “How are you? Did you sleep well?”

 

Harley nods, “I'm good. Tony woke me up at, like, three to show me my room so I could sleep there instead of the couch and after, I slept fine.”

 

She smiles as he speaks, clearly holding onto every word and making him feel metaphorically warm inside, happy that she cares so deeply for him. Pepper had always been like that. “I’m glad.” She spoke sincerely, “I didn’t know if you’d wanted to decorate the room for yourself, it's all pretty minimal right now, but if you’d like anything more, feel free to ask Myself, Tony, or Friday.”

 

Harley nodded, confirming he’d understood. She’d set down her purse once more and walked towards him, hugging him once before pulling back with a kiss to his forehead. He let her, and hugged back. There's a feeling in his chest he can’t identify, preening under an unknown instinct at Pepper clearly taking the time for him . “Tony should be down any minute now, the cars are already out front. There are some pancakes he made, the ones your mom said you liked. They're in the warmer, if you're hungry.” She told him, finally moving to part. “Love you, Harley. See you later, okay?”

 

“‘Kay, thanks. See ya, Pepper.” She left in one swift motion, grabbing her purse and clicking the door shut in a mere second. He watches her leave with a small smile plastered on his face, and with a breath the feeling in his chest fades. He doesn’t bother to question it and makes his way to the outer kitchen.

 

Pancakes. Not really pancakes, but something he could stomach, paired with beef tips and a cup of coffee were waiting for him in the food warmer. They tasted a little odd, the texture was fine, but the idea of them was a crude reminder of what he was. He didn’t like it. It made him anxious, it was so surreally jarring. It was something that should be supernatural, but in a world of gods, magic, and aliens he really shouldn't be surprised anymore.

 

♡

 

They got to the Sanctum very soon after they left the house, Harley had eaten the beef tips and two pancakes before the idea started to make him feel ill and they left. When they arrived, Tony stepped out of the car first. His cars had a designated garage at Stark Industries, ones he wasn’t using as often, while the only working car in the brownstone’s garage was a ‘68 Buick Electra with no power-steering that Tony never drove, for some reason. So, Happy had driven it over with another car for Pepper being driven over by a different security member. The three left for S.I., while Tony’s NSX sat out front. It was flashy, just like the man himself, but it helped his nerves the slightest bit knowing Tony wanted to help him, hands on, instead of simply just ‘going with him’.

 

The Wizard wasn't waiting out front or in the lobby, but there was a man in thick robes who greeted them when they got in. He’d introduced himself as Wong, and told them that ‘ Strange was waiting for them ; while leading them to an upstairs room. An office , his mind supplied as they entered. Pretty normal looking, too .

 

A dark wooden desk stood in the centre, with two plush chairs in front and one wing chair behind. On the desk were a few books but nothing else, and sitting in the chair was an older looking man who definitely didn't look very ‘wizard-like’. He had salt and pepper throughout his brown hair, was wearing a light blue button down from what Harley could see, and his facial hair was kept to a normal human level.

 

Weren't wizards, like, supposed to have long beards or something? The man’s eyes were on one of the books, reading it with slight confusion, until him and Tony stepped forward. Their eyes met on principal, and the look they shared was nothing less than distrusting.

 

“Strange,” Tony’s voice was unwavering, but it didn't hold the usual confidence he’d come to know. 

 

The man met his gaze. “Stark.”

 

Wow , okay. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife, barely. Harley felt weirdly like he was intruding, despite Tony being there because of him. ‘Strange’ as he assumed the man’s name was, with use of it from Tony and Wong, stood after he was addressed. Following, a cloak draped precariously on a torso stand flew -- flew -- to him in a split second. It was red, and slightly clashed with the light blue button down, but it did make him look more ‘wizard-like’, he supposed.

 

The man’s attention snapped to Harley, not unkindly. “You must be Harley.” He nodded at the man addressing him, “My name is Dr Stephen Strange, The Sorcerer Supreme. My job is to protect the earth and save it from any mystical or magical threats -- in short terms. I’m also very knowledgeable about the mythics, which is what you now fall under. It is nice to meet you.” He greeted, winded at first but soon fell into a calculated tone, giving a curt nod as greeting before gesturing for himself and Tony to sit. 

 

They followed out of politeness. “Nice to meet you too.” Harley’s voice slightly waivered. Okay, to be completely honest, he didn't exactly expect a real wizard, but a lot of recent things were making him question everything he thought he knew about life.

 

“Lovely," The man uttered, dryly, almost as if he didn't expect Harley to have any sort of manners. Harley didn't let fester on the idea, though. It was clear he didn't exactly feel all warm and fuzzy about Tony, so he chalked it up to that being the case. "First things first, when were you turned?” Strange got right onto the questions, not wasting any time. He was looking at Harley with an underlying layer of what he could only describe as scrutiny, if he was a puzzle. A part of him wondered of what Tony had even told him. 

 

His own reply came swiftly, the answer had been haunting him so it was no question that he had it on hand. “A little over a month ago.” He paused before clarifying, ”The fourth of June.” Harley tried his best to keep the full memory at bay, he did not need that right now. And, despite his efforts, he could practically see the man’s crazed red eyes as he looked at Strange’s. He trained his gaze down, in turn.

 

“Okay. Do you know the name of the person who did it?” 

 

The teen started picking at his nails, simply out of nervous habit. “Uh, no. Is that necessary ?”

 

“It doesn’t need to be.” Strange answered, “But, this person went against a very defined law. It is to my understanding you didn’t ask to be turned, which is not allowed.” His voice got a tad softer, as if explaining carefully to a child. “Plus, you look like you’ve barely eaten, kid.”

 

“I have people looking into the guy.” It was Tony’s turn to speak up, having already gotten too quiet for Harley’s liking, “From what I've gathered, he's been running around the continental south since the early 2000s. I have my A.I. keeping an eye out, if he's seen again, I’ll be happy to send the info your way.” 

 

Harley didn’t know that Tony had been keeping an eye on him, but it helped with some of the tension in his shoulders. “Thank you for that. I also have people working on the matter. This was extremely out of line,” Strange doesn't outwardly explain why, but Harley could guess. Changing someone’s body like that without express consent or necessity? Didn't sound so great no matter how he put it, and it did nothing to rationalize the muddled mental question of ‘why me? ’. 

 

“Besides that, Harley, what have you figured out so far about being a Vampire?”

 

The question made his heart stop uninvoluntarily, if it was even going. He’d pretty much refused to say it, admitting it passed the first week -- back when he was still in too much shock to do anything . Saying the word made it real, and a panic attack was already seeming to fester, and he found himself too proud to do that infront of a man he'd never met sitting beside his mentor -- despite Tony being in a similar position when they’d first met.

 

Harley swallowed thickly, “Uh.” He didn't know how to start. It was hard, to say the least. He was thankful for Tony’s surprisingly encouraging presence and the comforting hand on his shoulder as he started to speak. He explained to Strange how he couldn't really seem to stomach many things anymore, starting off. He’d also timidly taken off the sunglasses he’d arrived in, showing his crimson red eyes that were once a bright green, matching his Ma. He also told him about how his skin felt… oddly firm-er in a way? And of course he’d gone over the stuff he’d explained to Tony with his tests. At that, Strange quirked a brow, asking him if he had a background with administering such tests, bloodwork and otherwise, and Harley felt the tiniest jolt of pride well in his chest when Strange seemed impressed, of all things.

 

About halfway through explaining, he’d also remembered his inhumane canines, and showed those off as well. Strange nodded when he told him, that was all he'd known so far. 

 

Strange toed the line between kind and methodical well explaining. Not unlike a parent explaining to a small child, with his tone firm but gentle. Harley understood why he did it, he was hyper aware of the situation at all times, and what the man told him made it a little more complicated.

 

He wasn't a human, but his body was still alive. His heartbeat worked slower but it was working. He could be inhumanly faster, stronger, and possess ‘different abilities’ if he trained his body -- something Strange said he could help with teaching if he was interested. He’d be ‘fine’ in the sun, it’d just make his instincts flair since originally they disliked being in full view of any light.

 

And then came the hard parts. “One small thing is: you’ll need a supply of human blood to keep you alive.” Strange started carefully, “I can tell you haven't been eating well, and it's barely enough to keep you standing.”

 

Harley froze in the second, he felt sick at the idea. He was fine, he’d been eating the things his mother made for him, and knew most of them had pork blood in them or something. It was fine. 

 

Strange went on, as if reading his thoughts. “You're young, your palate is still adjusting and while you can live off of meats and animal blood, your body is still deteriorating -- though you might not feel it at the moment, you will later.” Shifting his weight, the wizard glanced down at his desk and grabbed a book. It looked old, bound with a hard cover in mahogany coloured  leather and ornate gold appliqué, antiqued. There was an open lock on its binding and the front had words in a language Harley did not know.

 

The wizard went on without acknowledging it, yet. “Here, we have some on hand, but I can get more. You don't have to eat as often, but the more you do, the more human you’ll feel.” He started moving his hands, circling, before making a small room visible. It was kinda cool, but simultaneously startling. From the… hole? Wormhole? Magical rift? He didn't know . From It, Strange grabbed a styrofoam cup -- like a takeout cup -- and set it down on the desk. He also then stuck his hand back in and pulled it out with a single packaged straw, plastic.

 

“I’m not going to lie and tell you this isn’t human blood, even though I can see your trepidation from here.” Started the wizard, now setting the items infront of Harley. “But, I will say, it is ethically sourced, and mixed with other vitamins you might have been missing with how long you’ve gone without.”

 

Harley was, maybe, in a little bit of shock. He felt like he was a living twilight character -- Abby watched it enough to very well see the parallels of this and Breaking Dawn, and he didn’t quite know how to feel about that. He’d felt a small surge of want when Strange held the cup and he could smell when it sloshed when moved. He could feel, not for the first time, his stomach ache with hunger. It was easy to remember how he’d started getting hungrier over the last month, despite how he tried keeping it from his Ma, and from how Strange acted he probably knew that as well. Under his eyes felt fuzzy and he forcefully kept himself from making it seem like he wanted to drink the knowingly viscous liquid. All was set aside, he was supposed to be normal and he had to act that way -- he wouldn’t care if Strange or Tony said otherwise.

“Ethically sourced?” He instead questioned, ignoring how his body felt like it was shaking. From either anticipation, excitement, or fear he didn’t know. Harley squinted, skeptically ready for any reason to rear it’s head and explain to him why he couldn’t drink blood.

 

Strange nodded, gesturing mildly with his hands as if it was hard to explain. The portal closed as he did. “Yes. we have.. donors that can afford to give blood.” He said carefully, “We help a lot of people here, and sometimes they wish to help in return. Blood is an offered donation, and we have a few locations worldwide that act as a sort of food drive.”

 

Calling something like that a food drive caused Harley’s stomach to pulse with disgust, while still smelling the sweet scent of the cup’s contents. It was gnawing at him, and the conflicting feelings made his head want to spin, but his mind was having him subconsciously stare down the styrofoam.

 

“I have a book already written for you. Anything you will need to know, as well as a small sort of care package .” Strange tacked on, then set the mahogany book from before down beside the cup. “But right now you should probably drink, while I speak to Stark.” His words were final, and Harley shakily nodded, feeling the second most terrified he had in his entire life -- the first being the self explanatory, when he was turned .

 

Strange made a gesture to Tony, who slowly stood with the wizard and after walking a few short steps, Harley heard the door click shut. And, he was left alone with the blood, book, and his racing heart. It was like he could hear a little voice in his brain buzzing with glee at the idea, while the more normal parts wanted to vomit. His stomach growled in protest, joining the side of the buzzing creature.

 

Hesitantly, Harley moved his hand towards the cup, ignoring how it shook, and when he wrapped his fingers around the styrofoam a mental note of its warmth was made. Oddly his teeth ached and the fuzz around his eyes felt worse, but he knew if he’d waited any longer that he’d back out.

 

In a swift motion, quicker than he knew he should've been, the straw was broken from its paper and it was being pushed into the top lid. The smell when it went through the star shaped hole left him breathing heavily and his mind going quiet. He craved it, the first silence heard from the small buzzing voice in weeks . 

 

Harley brought the cup to his lips, and drank.

 

His senses were shot, his shoulders relaxed, and with the first sip he felt lighter than he had in a while. The flavour wasn't like how blood usually tasted, like it was when he was human -- it wasn’t the flavour he’d been accustomed to with the foods his Ma and Tony made, with the usual pig's blood taste. It was slightly tangy but rich like wine. It was surprisingly thinner than he imagined and a sweet underbelly of a honey flavour kept him wanting more. It was like a warm tea, if he could put a name to it, but he couldn't for the life of him place all the flavours. It was floral and fruity with hints of some sort of sharpness.

 

He barely noticed when the harsh slurping sound of the straw sounded, and all he was drinking in was air. The cup was empty, the buzzing calmed, his eyes no longer felt fuzzy, his teeth didn't hurt. And when struck with the realization he liked the flavour of the blood, he couldn't really bring himself to care a whole lot -- though he knew he’d probably freak later. In the moment his jumbled thoughts calmed and he seemed to be thinking clearer. He needed this to survive, and it was majorly life changing and startling, the flavour of blood wasn't unpleasant and he didn't feel like he wanted to kill a room of people like a newly dubbed Cullen .

 

Harley set the cup back down, swiping his tongue over his lips and teeth to soak in the last drops of flavour, before reaching then for the book Strange gave him. Without any preamble, he opened the cover to find a small written note, in sloppy cursive that reminded him of a doctor's note he used to take to school when he was a lot younger and a lot more accident prone. Luckily, Abby’s cursive was no better and he could understand with little difficulty.

 

‘ This is simply a small book I've done with frequently asked questions and ones I can foresee you asking. It also has some anatomy, physiology, and historical information on vampires. At the back of the book are locations you can go if you can't reach me and need blood or help with vampire related things. Otherwise, I'm at the Sanctum on most days. - S. Strange’

 

It was written in black ink, and with a quick flip through the pages, it seems the whole thing was hand written. He felt a tad comforted at the prospect.The paper was a tan colour, there were hand drawn diagrams insite, and sorta looked like a researcher's book from an old movie. 

 

Opening one of the pages at random, he’d found a section labeled ‘Jewelry’. Beside it was a drawn out pendant of a woman with her hair up, visibly wearing old greek attire. The background of the image was a blue oval with a gilded border.

 

‘ Historically, vampires gravitated towards heavy jewelry, with visible medallions of monikers indicating a more human status -- though it was more a way to identify other vampires. In 1894, a court had intricately made cameo necklaces, with engravings of the goddess Hebe, an indicator of their eternal youth. Their kardiás had similar ones, but they swapped the blue for red. Before, it was common to keep kardiás otherwise clear of jewelry until this court had popularized the idea. Most of their kardiás had been gifted with their vampire’s own bracelets and necklaces, to show they were already spoken for. Before this, all kardiá had previously been simply referred to as courtesans, rather than lovers. This idea is shown little in modern vampire media, but in some are referred to as ‘Thralls’, though depictions are far from realistic. ’

 

Below the image was a written out note, telling that one of the images above was of the one the sanctum had in its ‘relics wing’. He barely had a clue of what some used words were, but given the book’s layout, there was probably a glossary and index for that.

 

Harley thumbed a finger over the words, and he could faintly feel the raised pen ink on the paper. He knew his body now felt very different. It was odd, but he could feel the effects of the sustenance in his system. He was a lot more alert, his veins were buzzing with energy, he felt well rested -- which he probably hadn’t felt since he was in middle school. There was also a feeling, sort of calming, that relaxed him. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling that way, that in reality all of this was genuinely batshit crazy that vampires even existed and he just drank blood but he felt pretty content about all of it. Anxiety that’d been bubbling since he saw the red of a reckless man’s eyes had subsided into something more upset, nearly offending.

 

He didn’t have more time to think on the matter when he heard footsteps outside the door, and he just knew that was Tony and Strange. He straightened in his seat, and he was strangely happy that Tony was there. It didn’t really register the change, having been priorly apprehensive that the man most definitely thought different now -- thought him a monster , perhaps -- but instead filled with a more magnetized want for the mechanic. Harley barely noticed it, barely.

 

The door handle spun, and in walked Strange first. His eyes were curious and hopeful, but grew an amused smile when he saw Harley. He held the door for Tony, and when he saw the man, Harley found himself unable to look away from him. He felt relieved, and yet he couldn’t pin why. Tony, on the other hand, seemed pleasantly surprised at something.

 

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Spoke the mechanic, turning to Strange. “Did you know that would happen?”

 

Strange nodded at him. Harley turned his head slightly to the side, squinting. “What? What is it?” the kid brought a hand to his lips, maybe checking if blood had gotten around his mouth, despite using a straw. It came back with nothing, and he was met with Tony handing him his phone, camera feature open with the top of the screen extended. And, when he sees it, he's startled.

 

His eyes were green. Kind of. Well, they weren’t not green, but it was the muddy shade of army colours mixed with brown at the edges. It was darker than his eyes before, having once been a bright shade matching his little sister. Their Ma always said they had the “prettiest eyes our side of the Mississippi”.

 

At least they aren’t red anymore , His mind supplied. “Are- is this permanent?” Was the question he stuttered out, moving to hand Tony back his phone.

 

Strange shook his head, “No, its a reaction. Your body no longer has that much blood in it, so in trying to keep your body working, it puts too much in the places you need. Your eyes are one of those places, and when you get more blood in your system, it calms somewhat.” He explained, “It’ll only last around two hours or so, possibly even less since this was your first meal.”

 

Normally, his stomach would churn at the idea of referring to drinking blood as a ‘meal’, but that part of his mind was in a puddle of pliancy and didn't seem to think about it too much. But, he was still a little dejected at the wizard’s words. He wasn't a fan of the crimson colour at all, and it had a lot of compounded questions and concerns about if he’d ever be able to have sleepovers, let his guard down, if he'd have to or be able to tell a potential partner about his …condition . That was definitely anxiety inducing, and he didn't like the implications of any of it. 

 

Harley sighed. “Oh.”

 

Tony put a hand on his shoulder, having had put away his phone and looking at him with kind eyes. “It'll be alright, kid.” His other hand, Harley noticed, held a tote bag he didn't have before. He wanted to trust Tony, he really did, but even with his newly clear head, it was even more understandable why it probably wouldn't be alright .

 

“Thanks, Tony.” He ignored his own thoughts, he could tell the mechanic was already worrying about him enough.

 

They left the Sanctum soon after, Strange reiterating that any question he might have would be in the book. When he checked his phone, he saw Pepper had sent him the location for where he was supposed to meet her, and Tony dropped him off. It was near one of the new S.I. buildings, and Tony said he already had to go that way before Dr Banner and Dr Cho came in that evening.

 

He told Harley Pepper could call him a car if he wanted to drive back home after, but he was also given the option if he wanted to wander New York or go back with the C.E.O. and see the new S.I. building. Harley told him he’d decide after, and Tony left him infront of the small café.

 

Harley walked inside, sunglasses back on and a little more stiff than usual, but relaxed when he saw Pepper sitting at a table. She waved him over.

 

The cafe was nice; deep green walls with faux plants littering the ceiling and decorations. There were a few bookshelves with wood-grain designs and the floors were textured to look as if plants were growing between them. He didn't catch the name, but Pepper kind of looked like a flower among the greenery, in her lavender set.

 

“Harley, I’m glad you made it.” She smiled at him as he took a seat across from her. She had two menus placed infront of her, and her yellow cased phone downturned on the table.

 

The teen smiled, “Yeah. Tony just dropped me off.” He supplied, setting down his phone as well and giving her a polite smile.

 

“He's on his way to the marketing building, right? The department wants him to name some of the new security tech we’re putting out.” She had a sort of exasperated but fond expression as she spoke, and Harley laughed but nodded. 

 

“Yep. He's headed there now.”

 

Pepper smiled, “Thank god,” She let out a small huff, “He's been sitting on those schematics for months and we need something to put on the label.”

 

“What are they?” Harley questioned.

 

Their conversation was long winded, and Harley liked Pepper’s company. She told him about the new S.I. security devices and some stuff her and Tony have been doing the past few weeks, besides work. It was easy to talk to her, and nearly a half an hour later they finally remembered to order drinks. Harley got a flavoured iced tea, and Pepper got what he ordered.

 

Harley was pleasantly surprised when the tea tasted better than imagined. He could taste the brewed fruit flavour and sweet of the simple syrup. It tastes good , and was subsequently the first time in a month he felt like something normal wasn't dulled or rotten smelling. 

 

The tea he had the day before was dull, still sweet, but not as good as he remembered. Things had been like that at home, too, but given they didn't make him feel like he was about to vomit it was more than fine for him to deal with. This was new, sweet , and after a few sips he told Pepper as much. It was easier to talk to her now that his head was cleared, and it didn't take a genius to link all of the happenings to one key point.

 

The blood definitely helped a lot more than he first realized.

 

“I’m glad you like it, sweetie.” She told him, supporting and loving as always. “I usually stop by here after work, so if you ever want something to bring home, just ask!”

 

He didn't tell her the reason, or that he’d drank blood that morning. Pepper may have been an angel, having the patience and fire to work with Tony Stark for more years than he could count, but he didn't want to ruin her appetite or anything. He’d feel bad.

♡

Harley found himself nearly two hours later walking down 5th avenue, just past the M.E.T.

 

He’d been around New York before, with Pepper and Abby mostly, but he was now by himself. Everything was kind of a lot, huge skyscrapers he didn't think he’d ever get used to, and old buildings made of something other than red brick -- though, there were a lot of those, too. Tons of people, sitting outside on the steps to the illustrious museum, and Taxis sat out front as if there was a queue. In Rose Hill, a display like that’d probably mean there was something big going on, but with his handful of New York experience he knew it was just how things were.

 

He’d love to go in, but he knew also from experience that everything in the “Big Apple” cost nothing less of an arm and a leg, and despite having a newly minted debit card in his name handed to him by Tony, he was not going to spend nearly thirty dollars to visit the M.E.T. alone . Maybe with Pepper or something, but thirty dollars was crazy .

 

He shrugged the idea off, with a roll of his eyes, before he heard a loud noise startled him. An explosion .

 

He felt the residual force of the blast, mixed with now shrieking civilians and glass breaking, all coming from the end of the street. Harley whipped his head to the side, surveying what happened as screams echoed between the wide expanse of buildings. An unmarked construction site had debris chalked up in the air. He could barely see anything with the smog, but he heard mechanical whirring loud enough and he decided it was best to hide and call Tony.

 

This was a risk he took being in New York, which he knew. It’d happened before, having visited with his Ma, and Abby before and during Ultron, and he knew it would be no less of chaos. 

 

He raced toward the nearest corner, behind a few pillars at the entrance to the M.E.T., and fished his phone out of his pocket as he tried getting a better view of what exactly was happening. The mechanical whirring turned into something that sounded akin to a work saw, and he could vaguely see a green thing in the smoke. And, just as he thought maybe it was going to clear enough for him to make sense of the figure, another burst sounded.

 

Shit , Harley thought, finding his contacts list a tad too long in the minute. When his eyes finally fell on Tony’s, dubbed “ Mechanic ” -- having stayed the same since Tony gifted him a smartphone, along with everything else in his garage, with the man’s number already inside -- he clicked the call button at lightning speed. It was agony waiting for the man to pick up, even though it was barely over two rings.

 

When it did, Tony sounded too calm for how Harley felt. “Hey, kid, you need something?” he asked, leisure coating his tone.

 

“There's an explosion near the Met. Two in the same building, and it looks like scaffolding is about to fall.” He cut in quickly, watching as once bolted in ladders and platforms swayed,starting to lick up the sides of the building. The smog was back in full force, but the greenish figure seemed to get closer in the midst of it all. He couldn’t get the best look, but it had a sort of dark shaded torso and an oddly shaped head. It was becoming more visible as something humanoid, and dread settled in Harley’s stomach. His breath caught in his throat as he tried explaining what he could see.

 

On the other side of the phone, it was clear Tony was already jumping into action. “Okay.” he said curtly. “Run in the opposite direction and find somewhere safe to stay ‘till I call you, okay? I’m on my way now.”

 

Harley was about to respond, in the midst of failing to level his breathing, when three more explosions went off. One, the two buildings down from the first, while the other two were separately at the fountains out front. They decimated the sidewalk, throwing out rubble and water in tandem in every which way. It was only Harley’s luck that the pillar he was behind, nearly hidden thanks to a once decorative tree, was right beside the south fountain.

 

He knew he screamed, he could feel the way it burned his throat. His phone fell from his hand as he was shoved into the wall, his body feeling scorched to ash. The flash that partnered the explosion was blinding, and it bled into the bright sun that hit his eyes soon after. He didn’t know when his knees hit the floor and didn’t register how his phone had a half audible voice coming from it, calling for him. His body felt like one big bruise, and a weird warmth made him feel exposed.

 

His ears were ringing, but it accompanied the pain like fine wine and stinky cheese. It felt like something he couldn’t quite place, his thoughts were hazy. Harley knew he’d felt a pain just like this, when his skin was begging to be ripped free from it’s bones and his body ached with the ferocity of a supernova. He was burning, and freezing, and the comforting feel of warm cotton on his skin felt sparse -- plus, anywhere it made him writhe with pure affliction.

 

The part of Halrley’s mind that once was buzzing for a taste of blood had split between discomfort and anger, and he felt fuzzy as he listened. He couldn’t hear the world around him, nothing made sense, and it was the second loudest thing he could hear in the moment. 

 

A surge of emotions filled him, and the source was blurry. It felt like a flutter of spoken words in his mind, like a cacophony of ravens cawing instructions at him. They supplied themselves in his mind and he felt himself slipping as he listened. Help. Danger. Gaurdian. Please. Danger. Help. Scared. Help. Help. Please. Danger .

 

The words surrounded him, as if they were trying to go somewhere and were stopped. They filled his head with the same general idea while his ears started to wean off the ringing and sounds started seeping back in. Screams, burning kindling,  a shrill laugh, and more mechanical whirring. The sound grated on his ears and he could somewhat make out different voices, his eyes didn’t dare open.

“-him out of here! Have Friday make plans for a perimeter based on explosion size and send it through police channels.”

 

“Oh, puh-lease, you lot playing buddy-buddy doesn’t make you a team. You couldn’t save everyone if you tried.”

 

“Already on it. Underoos, bring him to Strange. Don’t linger.”

 

“Got it, Mr Stark!” There was a whooshing noise soon after, and he felt his torso burn with cold hands picking him up. It felt all wrong. He could feel himself being moved, wrapped up in cold arms and every move sent sharp pains down his spine. Harley let out a pained whimper, and the voice said something else but he couldn’t hear it. “Hey, hey. Don’t go to sleep, okay? You need to stay awake ! ”

 

His mind slipped in and out, once or twice he couldn’t really tell, but he was still in a pair of arms when he came to. Light no longer shined through his eyelids.

 

The pain started to ebb away, first on his skin and the pounding in his head followed. Harley inhaled a long breath at that, and when hearing another explosion sound, his eyes fought to open. All the words, the sounds in his head, had become a more light thrum, though annoying nonetheless. Don’t leave. Protected. Safe. Stay . He pushed it down when he blearily blinked into the land of the living.

 

It must've been a mistake, cause he nearly had a heart attack.

 

His hands moved to grip around the person holding him, as he saw the sight. The streets of Manhattan, flying through them with a definite death wish or lack of self preservation. No one seemed to be on the streets, and cars were only going in one direction -- some even left abandoned on the opposing side. Horns honking, people screaming, the sound of fast air on his ears. It was all so much, and Spider-man holding him casually in one arm and four other mechanical ones didn’t help his sanity. 

 

They were whipping through all too close buildings, three lanes in between at the most. It was like an alleyway, cast in shadow, but it was a telltale sign of midday to the seasoned New Yorker. Harley was not, in fact, a seasoned New Yorker, but he felt lighter now that the burning on his skin was now nothing more than a stinging sensation. Slowly his senses were fully coming to, and he sharply inhaled when the ground became too close for comfort, somehow tightening his hold.

 

Spider-man seemed to catch he was more conscious, not hiding surprise that Harley couldn’t place with every feeling being too much . “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” asked the masked voice. If Harley was in any other condition, he’d probably think about how the hero sounded like a teenage boy. Young and with worry coating his tone. He wasn’t, though, and didn’t catch it. 

 

“Fuck no. Put me down .” He bit, not really amusing the thought of how cool this would be otherwise, or the fact that he probably has nearly fatal injuries that should be slurring his speech and keeping him from moving. He feels the urge to go back, like he left something behind and it’ll kill him if he doesn’t. The searing feeling isn’t physical, but it's a mental screaming that is furthered by the displacement of his stomach, as they swing through the streets. Spidey, surprisingly, swings once more before diving into a side alley's alcove, hidden from view of the street.

 

Harley feels like he's gonna vomit and cry all at once. His nerves are screaming as the hero sets him slowly on the ground, propping him up on a wall and slowly pulling his hands away as if he’s delicately balanced glassware. Harley can practically feel the anxiety pouring off of him in waves. “I- do you want me to call Mr Stark? You know him, right?” The hero asks both questions in quick succession, “He told me to bring you to Dr Strange, and we’re almost there. You got hurt, bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mr Stark look that worried, well- okay, kind of. He always worries recently, but like that was a lot. Plus, like, your skin looks burnt really bad, I don’t know how you’re acting so calm. You know-” The hero rambled like his life depended on it, right until Harley cut him off.

 

“Just-” He took a breath, “Give me a second.” The blond teen closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, Spidey now eerily silent. He needs a plan. His body may feel like it just got thrown several flights of stairs mixed with stinging like boiling hot water everywhere, but it went and passed in waves. He could deal with it, when it became a rhythm. It felt like this when he was turned, he could peace together that much, and he really didn’t want to go back to the Sanctum. Some of his anxieties from the morning had sept back in, talking of the stuffy building and knowing that he didn’t want anyone to really see him. He felt on high alert and like he was missing something.

 

With a breath and a half thought out plan, that thankfully made some sort of sense in his fuzzed up brain, he then asked. “Where are we?” 

 

The dull throb of his head is going in and out, and he can feel a sticky wetness on his thigh that he doesn’t want to look at, knowing what he’ll see. He didn’t even notice it hurting anymore than the rest of his body, but now without what he assumed was adrenaline, it was much more prominent.

Spidey took a second, before speaking the words as if he was reading them. He vaguely remembers Tony mentioning he put an A.I. in the younger hero’s suit and assumes he’s pinpointing their location. “We’re right on fifty-eighth and sixth,” Then he was turning to look at Harley more questioningly. “Why?”

 

“I was at the Sanctum this morning, It’s-” The throbbing spiked for a second and he groaned, inadvertently causing him to jerk at the feeling and pain his bruised body more. If he goes to the Sanctum, he feels like it’ll be a whole thing, and he couldn’t handle the near pitying eyes Strange gave him when he’d mentioned his turning. It felt somewhat weird, coming from him, as if the expression didn’t fit his face well. But, he knew Dr Bruce Banner and Dr Helen Cho, the resident doctor for the Avengers of all people, were supposed to be coming by later. And, in his hazed mind, he assumed they’d be there pretty soon. “ Far . Do you know where Tony lives? Er- or can your AI get us there?”

 

The hero squinted at him, “Your hurt.” he said, as if it was obvious -- which, it was, but that wasn’t the point. “Plus, I don't know if Mr Stark would be okay with that. He's, like, pretty private with his house.”

 

Harley may have known that was true. He knew how Pepper felt about bringing people over related to his hero status, especially to their newest ‘estate’. Ross and Fury were strictly forbidden from entering the area, and from what he knew, while the ex-rogues weren't even given a location. It was technically Pepper’s house, since Tony had been spending half his week at the compound anyway. He knew it shouldn't have been as easy to just ask .

 

“Your suit works through Friday, right?” Harley relents, letting his eyes slip shut once more he takes a hand to rub at his eyes. His head isn't shutting up, and he really doesn't wanna deal with any of this. The repetition of words was making everything worse. “You can.. uh, give her the name ‘Harley Keener’, she’ll tell you I’m allowed.” 

 

In the distance, he could vaguely hear police and ambulance sirens. He opened his eyes once more to Spider-man staring off as if he was listening and reading, once again, and after a moment he finally shifted. White acrylic sclera met crimson red eyes. He hadn't realized up until that point that he’d lost his sunglasses in the fray. Spidey hadn't mentioned them yet.

 

“Okay.” A pause. “Okay, Harley I’m gonna need to pick you up again to bring you to Mr Stark’s.” His hands rose once more, fingers twitching like one wrong move would hurt him -- news flash, it would . “I- uhm. I’m gonna move you now. Just tell me if I’m hurting you, alright?”

 

Gently, an arm snaked beneath his knees and one behind his back. In one fluid motion, he was lifted like he weighed less than a feather. Immediately, he moved to wrap himself around the hero, despite the warning he’d startled. Spidey’s mechanical arms held him in place as he soon took both hands and checked his wrists, web shooters, Harley knew. He’d asked Tony once, kinda morbidly curious if they were biological or otherwise, and Tony sent over the details in a heart beat for the new design he was making for them. 

 

“ The kid came up with the idea and formula, ” Tony had told him over a video call. “He's just about as smart as you.”

 

Harley had laughed, something mixing cocky and joking. “As if. I'll know it when I see his designs at the next ‘Stark Industries’ catalog. ” 

 

“Shit ! ” Cursed the blond teen, staring at the ground he’d just been ever so easily lifted from.

 

That immediately startled Spidey, his body being slightly moved away from the hero, the metal arms pushing Harley but keeping him firmly secure, as white sclera scanned his body. “Are you okay ? I didn't hurt you, did I?” It was asked with such a level tone that made Harley’s bones feel like ice and the fuzzy feeling beneath his eyes started to fill.

 

He didn't answer, at first. A shaken exhale stood, but Spidey made no other move to shift. He was statue still, until Harley found it in himself to blink once, twice, before shaking his head. “No- uh. I’m good.” And then, as an afterthought, “Sorry.”

 

It was weird. It was all weird. He didn't feel the swoop feeling he should've gotten while Spider-man swung him through the streets of New York, rapidly approaching Lincoln Square. Harley couldn't focus on any of it, he felt compelled to listen to him, while also feeling torn between hunger or fear. The sounds of the city fizzled out, and he hadn't realized it until he could hear a heartbeat. Fast but steady, and he’d inadvertently copied the rhythm for his breathing.

 

He didn't know he could hear heartbeats. It sounded calming, similar to a hospital monitor thrumming rhythmically to tell you were alive. The small voice in his head, muttering to him all the jumbled words and notes had now quieted, other than humming something that sounded vaguely of listen and kind . It made his skin want to both crawl and grant endless trust simultaneously -- the former a thing Harley hadn't done since he met Tony and Pepper, and even then it took years to trust them fully. 

 

He hated it. He hated how his mind reacted, how he wanted to look at the spider hero as if he hung the moon and stars alike. He wanted to blame it on dumb vampire instincts that he probably, definitely, didn't get and he swallowed it all down as he shifted to look away. He was still hooked onto the man with a vice’s grip, but it was simply because he didn't want to fall to his death. ( Would he die?—. ) He didn't want to think.

 

They fell outside Tony’s townhouse when Spidey made a sharp turn. Tony wasn't on the corner, Spider-man just decided to fling them nearly five houses down to where he was and slow their speed with a web Harley could've sworn was a tad too late -- it wasn't, though. The hero landing was flawless, and Harley’s heart was beating out of his chest with anxiety. 

 

It didn't help when he turned his head to see Pepper waiting outside, still in her lavender two piece and her ponytail still looking completely perfect, save for the worry painting her expression. There was a woman on her heel, looking more with an assessing gaze, and on the steps was Strange, his own expression next to blank. 

 

“How is he? Harley, are you okay? ” Pepper's voice rang like bells, like always , but she sounded more than worried. The tone yelled she was terrified. Harley wasn't new to people being terrified. His own mother had been terrified after what happened to him. Abby was terrified when he told her he’d be living in New York for a while until he could restart with semblance of normalcy -- which was saying a lot, given living with Tony ‘effing Stark, the Billionaire-Avenger was far from normal. Hell, he was terrified on the flight over, just at the star while he doubted how Tony would feel about his newly forced ‘life'. He knew terrified, and Pepper’s voice was all too similar

 

Spidey rushed to the women beside Pepper, jutting his body away from his own enough to let the three adults look him over. “Karen scanned him for injuries on the way over. He has a concussion and severe bruising to the ribs. He's lost a lot of blood through a piece of shrapnel in his leg, as well, and is scarily cold. She says he probably has an X-mutation keeping him alive, but it's unstable meaning it's early stage.” 

 

Harley, feeling actually better than he did before the hero had picked him up, was shocked to hear all that. He wondered if the X-mutation was his newfound vampirism, or if it was an actual mutation. He hadn't done a lot of research on them, he was no biochemist, but he heard Tony talk about the X-men before and rant about a vigilante trying to join them before killing a shitload of  people. They had an x-mutation, and because of it made them a very new candidate for the team, but Tony said they were probably trouble because the way to ‘activate’ said mutation was astronomically bad. It was never a good sign.

 

Not to mention, but ‘Karen’ -- his AI or ‘guy in the chair?’, he didn't know -- had also found he’d lost blood and had shrapnel in his thigh. That's what the pain was, his mind offers as a passing thought, and he's slightly miffed that it took that long to notice how the leg feels heavy along with the pain. It worries him more, and in that moment he regrets telling Tony putting in scanners in his H.U.D. to use on civilians was a good idea -- one Harley only thought up because of a video game he’d been playing.

 

He's kind of surprised how Spidey seems to be handling things, given his knowledge on the hero. Tony says he's an encyclopedia of pop culture references and a tad reckless. But here, he’s all straightforward and commanding -- it must come with the job.

 

“Where do you want me to put him, Doc?” Voices the hero, looking up at the woman beside Pepper. She's shorter than Pepper, with black hair pulled into a twist at the back of her head, and she's wearing blue and white scrubs with a 70s style floral print, as well as a white coat overtop. 

 

Harley watched as her eyes seemed to mimic whatever Spidey’s suit did, and scan his body. assessing . “We’re set up in his room. Dr Strange?” She full body turned to the wizard and Harley watched as he started to move his hands in a circular motion, like this morning, and another space-time ripping portal opened.

 

Okay maybe it wasn’t exactly space-time ripping, but nothing scientific could explain it so Harley was good with calling it that. Plus, his mind was starting to grow dazed again and his hands were starting to twitch behind Spidey’s neck. 

 

“Harley.” Strange’s voice cut through his slowly obfuscating thoughts, and the teen did his best to look at him. He knew the expression couldn't have been anything short of lopsided and questioning, but no one seemed to say anything and he appreciated it. “I need you to stay awake, alright?” Something about the tone he used was a lot more gentler than before, and it made Harley realize he was, in fact, very drowsy. 

 

He nodded determinedly. He could do that. Plus, the little guy in the back of his mind liked his agreeing. 

 

The next few minutes passed in a sort of blur. Strange asked Spider-man to set him down, and he realized belatedly he was in his bed. His mind kept ping-ponging from dazed and fuzzy to coherent and in pain. He barely noticed when the spider-themed hero left through another portal -- ‘barely’ being the key word, as the hero spoke an encouraging “ Stay safe! ” as he exited the room.

 

He was atop the sheets, cream coloured ones with a stripe of jewel toned green Pepper had probably picked out. They smelt still of laundry detergent and room spray, a very obvious tell that Pepper had done-up the room since Tony had once told him about the uncanny ‘warm sugar donut’ scent it gave off. “ How did it smell like warm? ” The mechanic had asked incredulously, and all Harley could do was laugh. You’d think the guy who made a whole element would be less shocked by what could come out of a scent factory, but everyone had their moments. 

 

The smell made him sigh in contentment as he thought back to it. It wasn't hard to place, he was constantly reminded of the trivial things he and Tony spoke about over the phone while he was here in Manhattan, and it felt strangely like his mind was at the ready to supply memories like that just for the moment.

 

It did smell like warm sugar donuts and he inhaled deeply while letting his eyes slip shut again. He knew it couldn't have been real, in the last month of re-learning, he’d gotten used to the fact he couldn't smell or taste anything like that anymore. Red meat or pig’s blood hadn't a sweet taste, providing a flavour more akin to tostones or fresh salted potato skins. As if the main portion was a tasteless canvas, with a hint of sea salt sprinkled in.

 

It turns out he wasn't very good at keeping his word to Strange. Harley ended up fully passed out on the bed as Dr Strange was ready-ing EEG . wires while Dr Cho had been assessing injuries and removing shrapnel from Harley’s thigh. Unfortunately, the jean’s leg had to be cut away, but she was making quick work.

 

Strange had briefed her on what exactly Harley’s body was capable of, and regular surgery was no help. His body would hastily heal if given blood, and any pain should've been taken care of in the same vein. That of which, Strange already hooked up upon Spider-man’s exit. 

 

The teen’s breathing stuttered every so often, but it was otherwise slow. His body was patching things up, similar to a mutation and unlike how enhancements worked. Wounds were being stitched up outwardly first before moving inward, and she had to make quick work of the items lodged in his thigh. There wasn't a lot, but every so often something would get closed over before she had the chance to tong it out. 

She had been a little hesitant at first, doing something like this on the kid’s bed of all places, but Strange said it was imperative that he was here rather than a new place, for his instincts. It was all new, and she’d be beaming at the opportunity to learn things like this if it wasn't in the situation of standing beside the unmoving body of a teenage vampire of all things.

Chapter 2: You Caught Me Under False Pretenses

Summary:

Tony flashed a smile, and called for the other person to come in. He noticed fairly quickly when Harley’s eyes landed on the spider hero. To his surprise, it wasn't awe or shock, like when he met Rhodey, but rather a look of curiosity tinged with an unamused squint.

“Spider-man.” He said, tone alarmingly flat. Not particularly harsh, simply just emotionless and pretending like he was the most private person in the world.

“Mr Keener, Hi.” The voice wasn't evidently warped, but Harley’s nose scrunched up at the sound.

Peter, as much as he could express through the mask, gave a confused look. “A voice changer?” Harley sounded between taken aback and confused.

[chapter title from 'supermassive black hole' by muse]

Notes:

okay so this chapter isn't yet beta'd, but when it is i'll be updating it (and making sure to put in the notes when i do) but for now ACK chapter two!!!!!
i was going to wait till sunday but i couldn't wait, and genuinly the chapter i'm working on right now is going so well -- im so excited! anyways this chap is like 15 thousand words and has a lot of pre-building work so fun fun

enjoy!

*****note. 'karen page' 's name is spelt like 'paige' because that's how i always type it. i hope it doesn't bother any1 too bad lol

Harley was warned to take the next week slow, by Strange and the woman who he’d soon identified as Dr Cho. He was kind of displeased when he woke up to a wrap on his head holding in wires and glue -- EEG . equipment -- but it's been something he and Tony had agreed on for his meeting with Banner and Cho already, and he understood she probably wanted an early read given his condition.

 

Banner ended up not coming that evening; he'd been hurt, having been required to look at recovered technology from the newly dubbed ‘green guy’ from the explosion at the M.E.T. . Surrounding people seemed to not agree on the name, with news outlets calling them “the green, mutant, terrorist”, while less than tactful media persons called him a ‘green goblin'. Harley had decided, just in case he was a mutant, he didn't wanna be rude and call him a goblin just cause he looks like a garden gnome with his little purple outfit. 

 

Tony and him stayed home most of the time. The mechanic called for his work to be taken in his lab, so he was there for Harley while still begrudgingly getting things done. Harley, however, was sick of this very quickly. Pepper told him one morning when he complained that it was because he was just like Tony, but he simply grumbled at the prospect given the man was the main culprit to the babying he endured. She laughed, and told him it was a ‘common occurrence’ with Tony, him acting like a helicopter mom to anyone who got hurt in his vicinity. 

 

He’d gotten a small rundown of what happened that evening after he’d passed out, and didn’t realize the anxiety he felt around Spider-man being there until Pepper told him that the hero had left right after bringing Harley in. Tension slipped from his shoulders at the comment, and he tried not to think about it when the mental label of ‘I just don’t want him to know my identity’ seemed to not fit quite comfortably. Luckily, Harley had gotten used to being a master of deflection and he ignored the thought of Spidey altogether after that. He let his mind wander with some of the things Strange told him, how they gave him blood intervenus that’d speed up his healing process, and though he wouldn’t feel the pain after his body wouldn’t be fully healed for a few days. His original injuries weren't that bad when he’d gotten to the house, mostly topical bruises and shallow cuts, beside the gash in his thigh. 

 

Strange said, since he’d eaten that morning, the healing was on and off. It didn’t work well with the fact it was the first ‘real meal’ -- his words, not Harley’s -- he’d had since he got turned. The bruised ribs were attacked first by the healing, and there was evidence he’d gotten more than a few scrapes, but was healed. He was still nursing an injury on his thigh, but everything else had seemed to have healed rather well. It was right to say he didn’t feel pain, but what he did feel was weird. There was a numbness in the surrounding area, and when he asked Strange he said it was because his nerves ‘shut off’ in simple terms. 

 

Harley didn’t exactly know what to say to that, other than thinking he should really get to reading the book Strange gave him.

 

So, whenever he found himself bored of movies or T.V. shows F.R.I.D.A.Y. had kept queued for him, he took the leather bound book off his bedside table and flipped through it. It was a lot of information, some making little sense when he’d picked a random page to read, rather than in order, but the glossary helped with words to know and all. One thing he gathered pretty quickly was how complicated vampire relationships were. 

 

You had vampires, who were often only ever turned for dire reasons or in marriage -- an old, now abolished, mythics law was that Vampires or other mythics couldn't marry humans -- but that was basic and surface level. Most vampires had a ‘Kardiá’, sometimes anciently referred to as a goat, courtesan, or concubine. They weren't sex workers, though, it was simply a way to call them before the turn of the century -- the twentieth century, that was. They were used for feeding, before blood distribution was made possible by more ethical means, and ‘belonged’ to the vampire, as per their own choice. It was an intimate thing, vampires would spend two nights a week feeding from the Kardiá, while the vampire’s fangs would pump a small amount of their own blood into them -- keeping them from the brink of death. It wasn't seen as an act of love until the turn of the century, vampire customs and all, but Harley couldn't really wrap his head around anything like that being love.

 

The part of his mind that he related very obviously to his vampirism, now that he was in a clearer headspace, was nearly affronted that the rest of him didn't find it romantic, but his usual thinking process wasn't as skewed. It sounded Stockholm Syndrome -y with a touch of unhealthy. Especially as he kept reading that before Italy united all of it’s kingdoms -- many of which were, in fact, vampiric -- a lot of kardiá weren't exactly willing . Something about how they stayed because of fear, then being ‘treated well’ by their captors. It was outlined very explicitly in the book how this type of behaviour was banned soon after, but he didn't like that it happened as such at all. 

 

It also talked about how most modern vampires got turned on specific principles and their own bases. A kardiá must be chosen before they're to be turned, and they have to sign ‘magical agreements’ to keep the secret safe. You could, however, change kardiá or look for a new one after they passed, and all kardiá must be registered for their human safety.

 

The book was extensive as promised, and he even made the decision to call Abby as he read through it. She wasn't much younger than he was, and she had been a huge support -- though, he didn't exactly know if it was because he was simply her big brother who needed help, or because she still cut and styled her hair like Alice Cullen.

 

And, that's what they were currently doing. Harley was sitting in the middle of his bed, right leg under his left as the other was stretched out, and Abby was on the hologram call. She was in his garage back home, in the smaller workspace he’d sorted out for her when she wanted to join him in building, years ago. Her hair was a mess, having been flipped up the day before and now being held back by a headband, while she looked like a mad scientist wearing her glasses and holding the tiniest tweezers for the project she’d been working on. 

 

“- despite vampires being seen as undead in media, they are perfectly alive. They do not have much blood and their body only operates the bare minimum of necessary organs, they can perform exactly like a normal human in the case of a full meal .” Harley was spreading out from the book, actually interested in the technical parts.

 

Abby made a huffing sound before interrupting. “So what they're saying is you're not dead, you're just on the brink of death. Yeah, okay. That totally makes sense.” She rolled her eyes as she stood taller, no longer hunched over the small frame of wires she was working on and now staring at Harley through the hologram. “I think I’m starting to understand why Pops has a hard time with the wizard guy, he writes in riddles!” Her words were exaggerated with hand gestures and another huff of annoyance.

 

Abby had taken to calling Tony ‘Pops’ since before legal rights were even his. Tony almost cried when she first did, before Abby joked saying he was their old man. Pepper laughed similarly, before promptly crying when Abby called her their bonus mom. Harley didn't use either term out loud, but did joke about them. ( “You're basically my dad so you should let me help with your iron man armour, obviously.” )

 

Harley rolled his eyes at the dramatics, “Abs, it already explained everything in detail, how is this the part that doesn't make sense?”

 

“It goes against any media about vampires, like, ever! How could it make sense?”

 

“So does not sparkling and the lack of hypnosis.”

 

She groaned in frustration, “I'm sure you simply haven't gotten to the hypnosis bit yet, there's no way that was just made up.”

 

“Yeah. cause it's obviously a stretch to think people assumed the worst of vampires from an outside perspective.” Harley deadpanned.

 

Abby was a fresh perspective to things. He was his little sister, and after the first few waves of shock and slight fear that she’d never admit to, she was open to joke with him about the situation. She still talks about vampire media as if it's gospel truth, but does listen to him despite her verbal protests of what the books state as true. Harley has been close with her since the day she was born, and she's been nothing less of a menace, but they were always there for each other. 

 

Tony, after he was sure to have finished the whole A.I.M. fiasco, came back and visited her and his Ma. He'd introduced himself and while his Mama was starstruck, Abby asked him if he could help her with her homework, soon after Harley said he was ‘really smart’. And, Tony, having not a clue how to handle kids, helped her by explaining harmful algal blooms and how it affects surrounding wildlife. Harley had simply watched the encounter while his Mama moved to make coffee for their guest. It was the first time they’d met, and he was inexplicably happy.

 

Abby never treated Tony like he was more than some smart guy who showed up at their house one day -- save for like a month after she put two and two together, finding out Tony was Iron man -- and she was doing the same for Harley. Despite the situation, she still teased him and kept the conversation lighthearted.

 

“Does it have anything on Mutants? Like if they're related in any way?” Asked Abby, later changing the subject.

 

Harley immediately turned to the glossary, shoving a finger in the page he’d been looking at to keep it while he searched the ‘ M ’s for ‘Mutant’ . “It does! Page- uh, forty eight.” Abby lit up as he moved to search the book. 

 

“What does it say?” She asked, excitement clear in her tone.

 

Turning to the page, a small taped in, image of two men and a woman were on the page. Below it was a description. ‘James Howelett, Victor Creed, and Elizabetta Vargas. Verona, Italy. 1876.’ The picture was rudimentary at best, proving the time, and beside it, the headline reading ‘Mutants and Vampire Relations ’, he started reading from there.

 

“ Mutants started appearing in the early 1800s, one of the first we know of being James Howelett, known modernly as ‘Logan’ or ‘The Wolverine’. He had been in Italy for travel, 1874, and met Lady Elizabetta Alessandra Vargas, a vampire who’d heard of his abilities. They’d both met with a well known sorcerer, who’d directed them to The Ancient One. Vampires took mutants as one of their own, until the question of mutant blood was on the table. It was said to be savoury rather than sweet. Upon this discovery, many vampires tried kidnapping mutant children. Lady Elizabetta was a vampire who held disdain for these actions, and kept Victor and James during their stay in Italy. Lady Elizabetta and James were said to have been lovers for a time being, but Lady Elizabetta was killed in 1886 by a group of rogue vampires, and James soon after moved back to the Americas. ”

 

Harley read the words carefully, before showing the picture to Abby and voicing what the description stated. She commented how the dress was gorgeous and she loved the fashion of the time. Then, their Ma called her for dinner, and the call ended on the first day of the second week.

 

Harley slumped back in his bed, not wanting to get out but being bored out of his mind. Tony had made him a slightly modified cane to walk with, since the numbness in his thigh kept him from walking too well, but he still didn't love it. ( He’d been on a call with Abby, once again, when Tony asked if he’d rather use a cane or crutches, and both had replied with ‘cane’ for vary different reasons. ) He wasn't supposed to be bed bound anymore, but Tony was having F.R.I.D.A.Y. monitor his movements in case he’d messed something up that he couldn't feel. 

 

With a glance to the clock, he knew Tony would be in with a cup in ten minutes. Strange had stalked a small medical fridge in their kitchen, full of ‘meals’ Harley could drink. Tony had gotten him a tumbler cup for them, and he’d come in every few hours with another filled. He still made food -- things tasted a lot better when he had more blood in his system -- and sometimes sweet iced tea from the place he liked.

 

With a long drawn out breath, Harley sat back up. If he ate in his room again he feels like he’d lose it. It was isolating, and he hated it. 

 

Taking the cane, Harley shimmied to the side of the bed before slipping his feet into his slippers and pulling himself up. It was dizzying at first, and the numbness mimicked the feeling of sitting crisscrossed, so it took him a second before he found the will to move. F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s light chimed, but he didn't listen to what she had to say.

 

He made his way out of the room, and could immediately hear voices upon exiting. They sounded from downstairs, audible through the circle stairwell, and he decided to take the elevator down. He wasn't going to put himself through attempting to walk down.

 

“Friday, take me to the ground floor, please.” Harley asked kindly, and pointedly ignored the way that her agreeance sounded somewhat reluctant.

 

It wasn't a long ride, given the barely four story townhouse, so very soon the doors opened once again and he stepped out. He was immediately hit with the smell of blood, the sweet one he’d gotten used to by now, and the voices from before had gotten louder. But, the two were in different directions, he’d figured fairly quickly. 

 

Tony was visibly sitting on the couch in the sitting area, speaking to someone, while the smell seemed to come from the kitchen, a room separate to the main entrance, so he couldn't see inside. Tony seemed to be enraptured in a conversation, and the person he was talking to had looked up at him upon walking forward.

 

He had huge doe eyes and brown curls. Pale with a dark bruise on his chin. He looked around Harley's age, and Tony had turned from him to the direction of Harley when the other teen’s head snapped up. Tony’s own face contorted into something of deep worry when he was spotted.

 

“Kid, what are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be in bed.” Tony had swiftly gotten up and started walking his way, leaving the other teen on the couch. 

 

Harley didn’t exaggerate when he groaned in exasperation. “I don’t wanna be in bed.” He said, sounding absolutely like a petulant child but keeping his voice somewhat low, not really knowing about who the other person was. He didn’t really want anyone in his business. “I’m fine, Tony.” He tried.

 

The mechanic had a panicked look on his face, holding his hands out in slight as if the boy might fall. Which, Harley wouldn’t. He had his hand firmly resting on the handle of the cane, and trying not to show how much pressure he was putting on it. Doing his best, Harley plastered an ‘i’m fine’ smile onto his face, and started making his way past Tony. He didn’t know if it’d be better to sit on the couch or try getting to the dining room -- plus, he’d belatedly realized he hadn’t his glasses on and really hoped F.R.I.D.A.Y. had already been given codes to holographically colour his eyes. It was something Tony had mentioned would work well if he wanted to keep himself safe from non-essential personnel that’d see him. Tony told him neither Happy or Rhodey knew, and they were often around.

 

Tony, begrudgingly, walked forward with him, still beside as if to catch him if he was off balanced, but Harley walked to the couch visually just fine. He plopped on the loveseat, not the main couch where the other teen was, but he did look up at him when he sat down. He didn’t know who this was, but he was stupidly pretty and that's all Harley seemed to wrap his head around before Tony sat once more.

Broken then out of his stupor, “Where's Pepper?” Harley asked, turning to the mechanic.

 

“She’s getting dinner ready. Uh, Peter, here, came by last minute. He’s my personal intern.” Tony looked kind of uncomfortable as he spoke, but Harley didn’t really know why. 

 

“Hi, Peter. I’m Harley.” He greeted, plastering a kind smile and giving a short wave. He was polite, if anything his mother taught him stuck, even though he really hadn’t a clue who they were -- or why Peter was there. And then, because he knew Tony was a weak man, he added. ”Tony’s my dad.” 

 

Tony, promptly, choked on his own saliva. Peter’s eyes went wide before darting between the two. 

 

“I- What? Wait, really?” Were the first words to come out of his mouth. He looked slightly alarmed, before deciding on fully turning to Tony, waiting for an explanation.

 

His mouth fell open, nearing to ask another question but snapping it shut, full body turning to Tony as if he’d explain. Harley only smirked, being the little shit he he’d been his whole life.

 

He, however, belatedly realized he was in less-than presentable looking pajamas -- loungewear if at the very most. His sweatpants had been a gag gift from Abby, that were stupidly comfortable in the first place and Harley was not going to keep himself from comfortable sweats just cause they had the word “PINK” bedazzled on the butt. Plus, at first glance, they were fine, magenta mostly matched his wardrobe. With it, he had a black long-sleeve shirt with a Stark Industries logo, from the last merchandise release being something Tony sent both him and Abby.

 

Given his little sister had gotten him in the habit of not leaving the house without something at least semi-presentable on, his cheeks were quick to flush at the realization.

 

Tony, trying to keep his own composure, cleared his throat and threw on his aloof paparazzi-perfect smile. “Yeah, in theory . I'm a dad.” He sounded kind of unsure of himself as he said the word dad, and if Harley didn't know Tony as well as he did, his heart would've sunk at the wording. “I met him a few years ago, and he helped me with The Mandarin .”

Harley didn’t know if that was really information to be sharing with a civilian, but the fact of this kid actively sitting in Tony’s home must’ve meant he was special. 

 

“ Yeah . Then he left me on the side of the road, in the cold .” Harley dramaticized his tone, but Tony’s face faltered at the mention. He caught the look, and based on Peter’s expression after, so did the brunet.

 

“He tends to do that.” Peter jokingly agreed. Somehow, Harley didn't doubt that a similar thing happened with him, given the taken quirk of his brow and roll of his eyes.

 

Tony looked between the two of them and sighed. “I’m now realizing how similar the two of you are.” He muttered, amused. Pepper took that time to enter the room. 

 

She was still in her work clothes, a red power suit and golden pumps with red soles. Perfectly put together as always, and Harley ignored the inkling to run up quickly and change for the guest he hadn't a clue they were hosting. 

 

Pepper was holding his cup, one of the tumblers they’d gotten to ‘serve’ blood in, and seemed to be heading the way of the stairs before Tony stopped her, calling her name. She swiveled her body around immediately, keeping the cup steady. She didn't spot Harley at first, with the awkward distance and view from beside the stairwell to the living room. 

 

Harley could see through the wired stair grates how she started walking back towards them, making a hum in question. At the end of the stairwell she’d glanced over to him, and her face lit up upon eye contact with Harley.

 

“Oh! I was just heading to your room, hun. I have your drink.” Pepper, for all her perfection, let her eyes make a quick glance to Peter as she said ‘drink’, and Harley knew it was purposeful. A newfound confidence kept him from believing it was done in malice or for the sake of ‘hiding’ him. 

 

It was simply for Harley’s comfort and for his own terms, and he nodded at her in turn. He thanked her verbally, and she brought the tumbler over, setting it before him. He didn't go to drink it, feeling Peter’s eyes. He moved the conversation. “So, have you all eaten yet?” He asked; Pepper then sitting beside Harley.

 

“I have some baked pasta in the oven, actually.” Tony spoke mindlessly, “Peter, do you plan to stay for dinner? It's getting pretty late, kid.”

 

Harley watched the interaction from the sidelines, Pepper shifting to look at something on her phone while Peter thought for a second. “I'll pass tonight, but thanks Mr Stark. I think I'll be eating with Matt and Wade tonight. Gwen might be there too, she wanted to meet Matt since she's working pretty close to The Kitchen .” 

 

Tony groaned. “As long as Matt keeps you three out of too much trouble.”

 

The conversation didn't make much sense to his ears, and he really wasn't following, so he let his mind wander. He’d set his cane beside the couch, resting at the arm so he grabbed it to fiddle with the handle. It was an old style. Antiqued gold at the grip, while the base was made to look like wood. It definitely wasn't wood, given how durable and hard it felt, but when it was handed to him Tony had mentioned something about it having a few ‘safety measures’ installed. ‘Just in case’ he’d said.

 

Harley felt a little out of place when he kept glancing back at the two talking, but Pepper -- ever the kindest -- decided then to show him something on her phone. It was a meme, and he stalled for a second letting it process that the Pepper Potts had memes on her phone, but shrugged it off quickly as she showed him a few more. She looked to be scrolling Facebook, and eventually he was leaned into her side as she mindfully -- because Miss Potts was never mindless -- scrolled. Every few minutes it'd be a meme or a Tasty video. At one, making ‘mac & cheese with cauliflower, she murmured something about wanting to try that, and it was just so normal he couldn't help the slight smile on his face.

 

Sometime when he hadn't noticed, Peter had left, and when he glanced back up Tony had been walking in from the kitchen. 

 

The kitchen was in a separate room from the dining room and breakfast bar, posing a sort of “half kitchen” in the main room -- seasonal or often not used serving dishes and fine china in cupboards, a sink, and perfect marble countertops in white -- while the real kitchen was in a room to the left. It was industrial and pretty formal, and had anything a chef were to cook with. A fully stocked pantry inside, hotel pans and metal bowls, two ovens, a flat stone grill, a pizza oven, etc. Based on those facts alone, it was pretty telling that they’d had an in-house cook, and Harley didn't want to think about them being sent away for him -- ‘cause that was exactly what Tony would do.

 

The pseudo kitchen was made to let the house look more normal, and the white marble matched the white couch pillows and decor, the main couch being amber in contrast. He was sure the pallet used in the house was Pepper’s idea, and it made the whole place look homey rather than sleek modern .

 

“Sorry about not telling you Pete was over,” Tony had spoken up, setting down two plates of baked pasta on the coffee table. Both Harley and Pepper looked up from the phone. “It was sort of a surprise visit.” He looked a little sheepish.

 

Harley hadn't wanted to really think about the fact in general. It made him, selfishly, think about if they’d brought others over without telling him. Like, as if he was out of commission they didn't need to supply the information. And really they didn't, but it didn't leave him with the nicest feeling.

 

“It's fine.” He stated simply, “I mean, it's your house.” He said aloud, as if it would hide the fact the statement was for him.

 

Tony’s expression flashed to pained. Pepper spoke in turn. “Yes, but you're living here just the same. We should've told you.” Her words were clearly carefully chosen, and for all of what Harley’s IQ would tell of him, he couldn't quite tell why. His mom never really told him when she was having guests over, so he didn't really see the problem.

 

Harley eyed Tony and Pepper both and squinted. He knew this was just one of those things the two would insist was an issue and wouldn't relent, so he opted to move on. “Okay, then.” He didn't have to deal with that if he didn't want to. Maybe he should change the subject? “Oh, by the way, what school am I gonna be goin’ to? Ma said y’all already picked it out?”

 

Tony folds at the rate of changing the subject, and though he can't see it, Pepper seems a tad more reluctant on changing it. They both relent, and Tony answers him. “It's the one I went to, actually. Before college. Granted, I was a lot younger, but It's a pretty good stem- school. Private, too. In case the ‘paps overdo it. We haven't outwardly told anyone you're here, but the company is about to release the partnered electronics division with Bishop Security, and all eyes will be on our family and theirs. Bishop’s kid is already going there, and it's probably the safest school in the country.” Tony explained very matter of fact-ly, and Harley was sure he’d breathed only once during the whole explanation. It took a second to let the words process, and when they did Harley’s nose scrunched up.

 

“A private school? Do I gotta wear a uniform?” He asked. He didn't quite enjoy the idea of that, plus he didn't like the idea of wearing school issued jackets everyday of the year while hiding his arms.

 

Pepper shook her head, a laughless mirth filling her tone, “You really think Tony would attend a school with a uniform?”

 

Harley barely had to think about it, “Nevermind, you're right.” He said with a huff of laughter. A part of him distantly wonders if that was a factor they’d looked for, or if the school was thought of immediately for the sake of its prestige and security. The latter end of that question gets shoved away and the first as the small vampire part of his mind both revels in the thought of the two thinking about that for him while also detesting the idea of hiding the bite. Luckily, Harley doesn't listen to it either way, nor does he plan to.

 

After a second, he's quiet again and Pepper asks him if his drink has gotten too cold, just before she moves to grab her own plate from the coffee table. He shrugs her off, and Tony has F.R.I.D.A.Y. play a movie while they eat. Harley is apprehensive at first, but the second he takes a careful sip of liquid his body is put at ease.  All of his worries melt away in moments.

 

The movie isn't very interesting, but he doesn't really care or want to move from the seat. Pepper starts absentmindedly petting his hair when she finishes her pasta and the little vampirish voice in his brain finally seems to quiet at that. 

 

At the end of the night, Tony offers to have him meet Peter for real, cause he's apparently a really smart intern at S.I., and the settled calm in his bones accepts it, having no qualms and simply supplying that he’ll have to make a better first impression.

♡

Harley wakes up with a feeling similar to pins and needles, a buzzing numbness shot through his body. He'd come to identify this as being a mix of sore and hungry , given it was a very common feeling in the morning. 

 

Granted, he’d eaten the night before, the book said his body was eating through the blood quickly to heal him, and when he wasn’t fed, his body would start to feel the pain again. Being unfed would bring his body to a more human level. The book stated explicitly about different types of blood, namely how animal blood was the equivalent to drinking two cups of whole milk a day and nothing more, and how that had kept him alive. He assumed that was something Strange had put in specifically after ‘foreseeing' him ask, given how specific it was with small tidbits that he'd definitely tried while testing foods with his Ma.

 

There was a way of keeping him from all pain, but he’d rather have pins and needles every morning than wake up an hour earlier than usual just to drink a cup of blood and most definitely not fall back asleep after.

 

With a groan he buried his face into his pillow, feeling annoyingly how his leg was flashing like a strobe light with waves of pain and numbing. It wasn't bad, similar to a crimped muscle at worst, but it was nothing if not annoying.

 

“Fri, what time is it?” He said into his pillow, knowing that the A.I. would hear him anyway.

 

“ It is currently seven thirty-one A M . Good morning, Mr Keener. ” Her voice is chipper and Harley groans again at the sound. No one should sound that awake so early, even A.I.s. 

 

They went to bed pretty late last night, and Harley had then proceeded to stay up scrolling social media -- instagram, facebook, twitter, anything that seemed interesting. And all of a sudden it was three thirty in the morning and he had finally decided to set his phone down. His only thanks was that, thanks to what he was, his curtains weren't set to automatically open like when he was last in New York with Tony and Pepper.

 

Groaning one last time, as a sign he hated the world and all that came with it making morning a thing, he finally shuffled to the side of the bed and grabbed a cane. Tony normally brought him a drink around nine thirty, when he usually woke up, but it was not a usual morning and if he had to wait that long he’d rather throw himself into the sun.

 

Harley gripped the cane and, after a little self convincing, fixed himself to stand. He was wobbly at first, more pins shooting through his leg like a bullet, but after a few seconds of shallow breathing and a clenched fist, he willed himself to ignore the pain. And, with an unsteady foot forward, he stepped.

 

He, in fact, didn't stumble -- why would you think that ? No, Harley ever so gracefully made his way to the door and out into the hall, after grabbing his phone from the nightstand. The light was already coming in, the two chairs and bookshelf at the end of the corridor were illuminated by the window looking out. The lamp, sitting in the small table between the two chairs was off, but the colour helped catch and reflect on the space. It looked nice and warm, but the little voice in his head was screaming and he was too tired to deal with that right now.

 

So, down the elevator once more, he made his way to the kitchen and grabbed himself a small container of blood. They had two different types, Tony had gotten both for the sake of having two sizes, and Harley was currently very thankful. In the side fridge, gotten just for his blood, so there would be no confusion and to keep it at a certain temperature, held milk jugs and juice boxes. One small issue, neither were filled with their assigned drink. The containers the size of milk jugs held blood, with dates labeled on the front. The juice boxes were a tad more inconspicuous, having been custom-made by the Sanctum’s people -- whoever they were, the book said not to really ask -- with a few fake statistics and the words ‘TOMATO AND CARROT PUNCH”.

 

( When Harley looked in the book to ask why that was the flavour, it said it was less likely for someone to take your drink and also something along the lines of ‘Who the hell wants to drink tomato and carrot punch?’. Which, Harley was honestly kind of offended by, cause he loved that flavour of V8 as a kid. )

 

He grabbed one of the juice boxes, not wanting to pour a whole cup in his begrudgingly awake state, and shut the fridge with the hand he held it in while the other gripped his cane. Too tired to move to the dining room or couch, he moved to the centre metal prep-space and plopped himself down. He was decently tall, so it was pretty easy, and he let the cane rest on the metal. Harley then pulled out his phone while opening the straw wrapped with one hand.

 

With a sip of the blood, just as sweet as the first time, he opened twitter and started scrolling. It was all pretty normal stuff, some news accounts still reporting on the Avenger’s battle and the ex-rogue’s pardons, while others spoke about local vigilanties coming out of the woodwork after helping the fight with Thanos.

 

Harley hadn't known much about the whole situation. He knew Tony was in space with the Wizard and Spider-man, he knew Loki was killed before Thor returned to earth, and he knew a purple alien named Thanos tried killing half of everything. Tony didn't know a lot about what happened at the end of the battle, being on Titan, but from what the news articles said, a few Vigilanties had been brought to Wakanda and fought Thanos, and the killing blow was delivered by Wanda when he tried taking Vision’s stone.

 

It was kind of hard to follow, but a ‘for sure’ thing was that Tony was worried sick when he got back to earth. He called his Ma, nearly frantic, asking if everyone was okay. And, soon enough, Harley found himself on  a flight to New York, while his Mama and Abby stayed in Tennessee to tie off any connections. Abby was too young to be without their Ma, but Harley was nearly eighteen and in desperate need to get out of Rose Hill. He’d liked it, sort of, before he was turned. 

 

Then, after the matter, he couldn't stand it. And Tony wanted to help, he wanted to be there for him. Mama agreed to let him, and now he was here. A little over a week after his arrival and recovering from a New York classic , supervillain attack, but feeling more refreshed than he had in weeks -- minus the whole 'early morning’ thing.

 

He scrolled past one news tweet after another, and when he saw his usual timeline wasn't going to show up, he moved to scrolling his following tab.

 

At the very top is a retweet from Abby’s account, something she probably shouldn't have at her age given twitter is a cesspool on a normal day, but it's simply a post about some celebrity getting married. He has no clue who it is, but it's from Pop Base so he assumes it as only somewhat important and moves on. A few other tweets from some of his mutuals about shows like Jane the Virgin or Grey’s Anatomy , and a mutual mentioning how they simply wished for someone to end their suffering while they were in summer school. All pretty normal, to say the least.

 

As he's reading through a tweet recapping an episode for a series he hasn't watched a day in his life, Pepper walks in. She's dressed, but her usual heels are replaced with slippers and her hair is pulled haphazardly into a claw clip rather than a low ponytail.

 

When she spots him, it's because she turned to yawn, and she's startled at seeing him. He, only then, realizes what he must look like with the lights still off and sitting on the counter, hunched over. In turn, he sheepishly waves at her and waves with the hand his phone is still holding. “Hi,” He greets.

 

She looks at him and waves back, wiping away her tiredness with a hand to her eyes. “Hey, hun. How’d you sleep?”

 

“Fine,” He lies, out of habit before adding, “My leg was bothering me, again.”

 

“Oh that's no good,” She has a look of concern written in her features as she moves to an espresso machine in the corner. “Do you think it's gotten worse? I can schedule an appointment with Stephen for him to look at it?”

 

“It's not bad, I don't think It's any worse than before, I just hadn’t eaten yet.” He tells her, then raises the juice box to show her. 

 

She still has a knit brow and pursed lips, but seeming to think better of her thoughts, they get shaken off, and she gives him a warm smile. “If you’re sure, Harley. Just tell me or Tony if you need anything, okay?”

 

He nods in confirmation, and she starts to prepare her espresso. Harley goes back to scrolling his phone and sipping on his drink until she speaks up again.

 

“I think Tony is planning on bringing you shopping today.” She tells him, using a dosing needle on the ground coffee but not glancing up at him. “For school stuff, and things to decorate your room. He has a list and everything.” She speaks as though there's a smile on her face.

 

“He is?”

 

“Yep. He wants to go out around noon, then in the evening we’re gonna go see a movie. How does that sound?”

 

Harley smiles slightly as Pepper looks back at him, in confirmation he heard her, “Sure, sounds great. What movie?”

“Tony was thinking either the new Oceans or, if you wanted to see it, there's a movie he has a cameo in.” Harley tilts his head, urging her to go on. “It’s called ‘Inovastar’, Tony made a cameo in it as a science professor. It’s about a young inventor creating an A.I. android, by accident in a robotics class, and then trying to find the meaning of life.” She says the last part as if she's reciting a poster description or advertisement, and Harley kind of assumes she is.

 

Thinking about seeing his mentor ( dad ) in a movie, rather than the plot, he answers her. “That one, definitely. I had no clue Tony was in a movie.”

 

“Really? Tony’s been in tons of movies, he didn’t tell you?” Harley shakes his head, no. “Before I met him, he did movies left and right. There’s a DVD collection in storage somewhere, I’m pretty sure.”

 

His eyes widen at the news, but before he can say anything more on the matter, the man himself walks in. “The kid doesn’t need to know about everything I did before the year two thousand, Pep.”

 

Tony is already dressed as well, but a tad more put together then Pepper. He has on an all grey suit, dress shoes, and a signature pair of sunglasses. He takes a few strides towards Pepper and kisses her cheek, before turning to Harley. “You know, most people sit on a chair,” He tells him, humorous snark colouring his tone, looking down at how he’s made himself comfortable on the metal counter.

 

“Yeah, and most people don’t have an industrialized kitchen in their home -- yet, here we are.” The teen replied frankly. His tone was dripping with more sarcasm than he intended, and realized the morning haze of sleep started to ebb away, along with pins and needles.

 

Tony rolls his eyes, and Pepper grabs a mug from a metal shelf beside the espresso machine. He moves on. “So, before we go out, I actually have to meet with Rogers and the crew at-” he checks his wrist, there isn’t a watch.

 

“ Eight-thirty, boss. ” F.R.I.D.A.Y. supplies.

 

“Eight-thirty! So, I’m gonna have to be out. I couldn’t push back this meeting, though, I kinda assume you’d be sleeping in. But, Pepper doesn’t work ‘till ten, today, and I should be back around then.” He tells Harley, tone hesitant in an odd sort of way that the blond teen can’t quite make out. “Will you be okay until then? If it takes longer, I’ll have Happy drop you off with Pepper, ‘cause the meeting’s being held in the main building.”

 

Tony’s treating him like he’ll break if left alone, and though in retrospect Harley can understand why, it doesn’t make him like it anymore than he has to. He’s not fragile, he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He opts to ignore the baby-ing, for his own sake.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Harley says, “Are you leaving here soon?”

Tony nods, “I’m picking someone up on the way.”

 

He doesn’t mention a name, nickname or otherwise, and Harley doesn’t ask who. A myriad of vigilanties came out of the woodwork during and after Thanos, and with the accords amended with vigilante clauses and mutant protection lining the paper, he assumes it's one of them. Their identities are secret, for good reason, and Harley doesn’t want to put Tony in an awkward position. “Okay.” He decides on. 

 

And then, after a short goodbye, he goes back to his room and changes for the day.

 

♡

 

Tony hates meetings. They’re stuffy and boring, and the ex-rogues are talking about stuff he already knows concerning their newest ‘villain’ in New York. The room isn’t huge, just a place with enough security to keep leaks to a minimum and a long enough table for everyone they have to fit. The Avengers, along with New York vigilanties, and a few X-men. Anyone who has just enough time on their hands to help the everyday New Yorker. And Peter, who would normally be in school if it wasn’t summer.

 

“Xavier ain't got nothin’ of a read on him since the fight.” Rogue supplied. She was one of the X-men who’d joined their little group of misfit heroes. She wasn't a teacher at Xavier’s school, and had been helping out since after the battle. She was smart, conventionally pretty, with red and white curls. Plus, a sweet southern drawl that was sometimes thick enough that Tony didn't believe he understood at times -- it was much thicker than Harley’s. She wanted to help with the aftermath, giving people a sense of security that hadn't existed in a very long time. The X-men and Avengers joining forces helped that, and she was a loud advocate for mutants in the community. “But, he's having Jean do recon with Cerebro. If he doesn' show, he's probably not a mutant or mutate.”

 

“Thank you, Rogue. What about any of the material left behind, do we have anything with that?” Steve was leading the group, newly reinstated as Captain America -- Tony even gave him back the shield and everything , after a much needed and long conversation.

 

No one spoke up, but Peter rose his hand halfway, in full costume. “Yes, Spider-man?” Steve sounded only slightly exasperated, the kid was too formal.

 

“Uhm. I did a full scan of the tech when I got there. I dunno if it helps much but the base was mostly Oscorp stuff. Like, someone probably modified their stuff.” He sounded unsure of his findings, twiddling his fingers and not exactly making a lot of eye contact. Tony, beside him, put a hand on his back, encouraging him to speak up. Because he was a good mentor. “There was, like, a main difference though. It's the base of the- uh, I'm not sure what to call it. It was, like, a hoverboard kind of thing? I dunno. Well, uhm ‘sides that, it was run by a Fusion-Type arc reactor.”

 

‘I dunno if it helps much’ , as if it wasn’t a huge piece to help the puzzle. The kid was modest -- and smart. Tony knew he didn't install that type of technology in even his own suit and decided to mark the conversation topic for later. Mainly, because he didn't know that. “ Really ?”

 

Peter nodded. Even behind the mask, Peter shrunk in on himself at the attention. He really needed to get this kid into public speaking classes.

 

“So, a tech whizz. That eliminates a few people.” Natasha said from her chair, arms crossed but evidently on alert. 

 

Bruce seemed to get an idea beside her, “What about metal measurements? Maybe we can re-engineer the amount and check prices for that -- for the palladium. It's not exactly a cheap material.”

 

“It had two cores, and Karen says it was about six ounces.” A pause, “That comes to nearly two thousand dollars.”

 

“Two thousand dollars, plus Oscorp technology. That's all worth a pretty penny.” Clint spoke up.

 

Matt, sans his own costume, hummed. “Fisk has been exporting Oscorp tech for Gao. I’ve been working on the case as to why for the last few months. It could be related.”

 

 He was another new recruit. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, who’d joined on account of his ‘old methods’ being respected. Natasha liked him well enough and Tony agreed after also putting him on his own team of lawyers. His identity wasn't public knowledge, but Tony had been helpfully informed of every vigilante in the tri-state area and none of them were really good for cameras.

 

“At this rate we’ll have a second lead by sunset, I believe.” Vision unhelpfully added.

 

They've been working on this case since the week before, video calls mostly. Steve was doing a lot of groundwork, even helping with some aftermath cleanup since the M.E.T.’s front was in shambles. Nothing inside was ruined, but the outer architecture is being redone on account of the explosions.

 

A few groans from around the table at Vision’s so helpful time update helped Tony realize to check the time. The corner of his sunglasses supplied in small Impact letters: 10:53. Fuck.

 

He stood abruptly. “Rogue, send Rogers a message when Jean gets back to you. We’ll call for another meeting. Underoos, have Karen send me your tech scans. I'll look over them and see if I can find anything else.” He spoke with finality, tucking his phone into his suit pocket and once buttoning the jacket. “With Murdock’s lead, Romanoff and Barton should go through with an investigation -- Shield sleepers can probably check it out in the field. So, I think this meeting can come to a close. It was truly lovely, thanks guys..” He lied through his teeth at the last sentence, making the sarcasm evident. “ But I have somewhere to be. A prior engagement, if you will. So, toodles!.” He spoke with false cheer, a practical staple of his usual bravado.

 

Steve, to his surprise, didn't stop him, if only to prove how tired he was with the meeting as well. And Natasha only looked slightly exasperated. Peter stood and walked out with him. 

 

Once they exited the room, Tony made his way to the nearby elevator. Peter followed suit. “Whatcha need, kid?”  He asked when they were finally inside.

 

The teen was messing with the thumbs of the suit, tracing the web. “How's your son?”

 

Tony didn't stiffen, why would you think that? He simply stood straighter and was only a little caught off guard by the question. “Doing better.”

 

“Sorry for startling him yesterday, Gwen insisted I go see you before patrol.”

 

Tony huffed. “Kid, don't apologize. Gwen was right about having you see me. Harley's just…” He didn't want to say too much, but he couldn't find the right word. Fragile? Scared? Worried? Delicate? Relearning how to live? Just had his world flipped upside down? Went to New York for safety and solace just to get attacked on his first day? “He just moved here. He's going through a lot.” Not a lie, just not the whole truth.

 

Peter, after he’d been unceremoniously shoved out after dropping off Harley, had assumed he’d done something wrong. He was worried for the other teen, especially if he’d hurt him at all or if he made him uncomfortable. Apparently, while he was in and out of consciousness, Harley had been saying things that made him think his help had been unwanted. Now, Tony was sure that wasn't the case, but Harley really hadn't mentioned Spider-man once since Strange recapped everything that happened to him, and he really assumed Harley was a little more interested in the superhero circuit.

 

He’d asked about Strange, Cho, and Banner but never once Spider-man. It wasn't looking very good. But, Peter cared about his safety and was concerned. 

 

“Are you gonna go see him now?” Peter asked, after a few beats of silence and the elevator doors were once again opening.

 

Tony nodded. “Yeah. He's waiting for me downstairs in Happy’s office, actually.”

 

Peter was quiet at that. He shuffled beside Tony and the eccentric billionaire was a little out of his depth. 

 

Harley wasn't a mystery to the Avengers -- and excess company, who he should really find a name for. They were the only ones he'd explicitly told about him, besides when setting up schooling and such. He’d already planned on taking time away to spend with his kid, and the whole situation at central park was a nightmarish coincidence. He’d sounded the Avengers’ alarm the second he’d figured the emergency, and Harley was at the crux.

 

Steve, Peter, and Gwen Stacy -- the other spider kid -- were nearby. They helped with the fight and they saw Tony worry over Harley a tad more than one would for a random civilian. He’d told them during mission briefing, that Harley was staying with him for extraneous circumstances and he was helping the kid out with something. 

 

Steve asked every so often how the kid was doing, though Tony didn't know if that was out of genuine concern and curiosity or simply trying to get back into his good graces. Peter had asked once after the fight, but instead of asking again he just had a worried look on his face every time he seemed to think about it. Tony catches the expression every time they're in slightly close proximity. He knows the kid’s guilty conscience can rival his own, and so he simply puts a hand on his shoulder with a look he thinks would be comforting.

 

This time, instead of looking, he asks a question. “Would you like to talk to him? As Spider-man?”

 

“You’d let me?” The words tumble out before the kid has time to think about them, and Tony can tell by the way white sclera widen ever so slightly. He belatedly realizes how Peter is one of the few people he can really read like that.

 

The older man nodded. “Sure, yeah. I have to ask him first, but he should be fine with it. Just make sure your voice mod is on full instead of half.”

 

Peter perked up, and asked Karen to turn up his modulator. It’d been changed since the first suit, this one sounding a little more human with A.I. voice integration. It deepened his voice slightly, but more in a grown-up way rather than a deliberately hiding way. It also made his accent a tad stronger, which helped separate Spider-man’s voice from Peter Parker. Plus, it worked multilingually, which Peter was grateful for since he’d been starting to Patrol a little further than just Queens. A lot of hispanics lived in the area, and a lot of people outside of Queens didn’t really know he understood spanish, so he’d started speaking it a little more. For that, there was only a small need to heighten his accent, partly since it was already so thick.

 

When it was changed, the kid looked back up at Tony, and he smiled before telling Peter to wait outside when they reached the office. He did, and Tony went in first, being met with the sight of Harley, Happy, Karen Paige, and Franklin Nelson looking at a huge map hologram. It was coloured with four different elementary colours, and when Tony realized what he’d been looking at he found himself pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

He sort of wondered how they got Happy into playing, but he didn’t have to wonder long when he heard Paige taunting him, while none of them seemed to notice his entrance. None of them had even really met before -- other than Paige and Happy, maybe once or twice. But, Harley looked like he was having fun, laughing as yellow blitzed through Congo, North Africa, and Brazil. Nelson’s jaw dropped, the board announced that it’d taken his continent bonus on South America, and Tony couldn’t help but laugh, successfully startling the four in the room.

 

Harley’s face then morphed into a bright smile as he waved. “Hi, Tony!” The game had clearly gotten him into a sort of chipper mood.

 

“Hey, kid.” He turned his head to the three adults and gave a half hearted wave. Nelson and Paige seemed to school their expressions into something more calmed down, and Happy evidently paused the game. “So, one question, How exactly did you get interactive Risk on the currently beta -holograms?”

 

“I’m just great like that.” Harley replied immediately, with a pseudo-cocky smile and a shift of his shoulders. “ Also , Pepper told me Friday still worked in this buildin’, so it really wasn’ too hard.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Alice probably would’ve been able to do the same, if you asked.”

 

“ While I appreciate your belief, Mr Stark, I can’t say that's within my capabilities. ” Answered the building’s A.I., with her prim and proper transatlantic accent. 

 

A.L.I.C.E. was built specifically for Stark Industries -- being the Adaptive Liaison for Intelligent Central Engagement , respectively. She catered towards helping around, using a quieter tone and answering specific employee questions on smaller speakers to not disturb the general workplace. She was installed in all of Stark Industries, but any deep-dive research that his other A.I.’s could do, she couldn’t. That, along with a few other minor changes. Plus, he’d built her recently, so she wasn’t to the same level as F.R.I.D.A.Y. or T.A.D.A.S.H.I. were.

 

Tony huffed at the A.I. 's admission, and ignored how Harley’s look said ‘See ?’, eyes amused behind the semi-tinted frames. Just enough to pass his eye colour as brown, but not the ones Tony was currently working on. This was a trick of the light, while the ones he’d planned could look like regular glasses that happened to have holograms to change his eye-colour. 

 

“ Anyways .” he turned to Paige and Nelson, “Murdock’s finishing upstairs, If you’d like to go see him.” He kinda hoped it wasn’t too obvious if he implied Murdock would be in the Avengers meeting, but he assumed he could kind of shrug it off as him being a Lawyer, so he needed to be there. And he knew he was kinda just letting his mind ramble as the two nodded and left the office, while Happy started closing down the game from his laptop.

 

Harley spoke a small ‘goodbye’ as they left, cause he normally had manners despite how he acted around Tony. And, when they were fully gone, the kid turned to him. “How’d the meetin’ go?” He asked, kindly but Tony wasn’t sure if he actually cared or just asked to start conversation.

 

“Long. Tiring. If I have to spend another minute listening to someone over-explain the debrief again I might reconsider actually asking Pepper for a real-job in Stark Industries instead.” He told him, huffing out in an exhausted manner before pointing at the blond teen. “Harley, never build yourself a suit and try fighting bad guys, got it? I don't wish Avengers’ meetings on anyone.” Both ignored how Tony didn’t make the suit ‘ just because ’, but joking about his problems was definitely one of the better coping mechanisms he’d come up with.

 

Harley laughed, “Wasn't plannin' on it, but thanks for the advice, Pops.” The kid added the last part as a sort of joke, he knew that. It wasn't serious, but Tony’s insides melted at the wording, despite keeping his expression cool and calm. Years of media training helped, and he was never more grateful for Pepper insisting such things.

 

After a second or two, Tony felt like if he spoke again he wouldn't impulsively ask Harley to be his real kid and maybe call him Pops or something dad adjacent just one more time, and tried starting on his next necessary topic. “So.”

 

“Oh gosh , what's that face for? Did someone die?” He couldn't even get the words out of his mouth before Harley asked something, and he maybe realized the aforementioned ‘media training’ was not as effective as he might've hoped.

 

Tony rolled his eyes to amend. “It's nothing bad, kid.” Harley lifted a brow. “There's just someone outside wanting to talk to you, if you're up to it. They were asking after you.” 

 

The kid seemed to contemplate the thought, looking somewhat skeptical and trying to read if it was a trap or not, but ultimately said, “Okay...” Still a tad hesitant.

 

Tony flashed a smile, and called for the other person to come in. He noticed fairly quickly when Harley’s eyes landed on the spider hero. To his surprise, it wasn't awe or shock, like when he met Rhodey, but rather a look of curiosity tinged with an unamused squint.

 

“Spider-man.” He said, tone alarmingly flat. Not particularly harsh, simply just emotionless and pretending like he was the most private person in the world.

 

“Mr Keener, Hi.” The voice wasn't evidently warped, but Harley’s nose scrunched up at the sound. 

 

Peter, as much as he could express through the mask, gave a confused look. “A voice changer?” Harley sounded between taken aback and confused.

 

“Yeah. Sorry, just for safety. I work with Mr Stark sometimes out of the mask, and originally assumed you were just a passerby so I didn't use it before.” He explains a tad too much, and Tony knows he probably could've come up with something a little less truthful, but he's not too worried his kid will blab to the press so he doesn't touch it.

 

Harley cocks his head to the side and shrugs, “Okay. Makes sense.” He then goes back to his eye squint and contemplative look. “So, uh, did’jya need somethin’?”

 

“I- yeah , wanted to check on you. It all kinda worried the Captain and I -- especially since Mr Stark was, like, sorta freaking out over you. And, I, ya’know, just wanted to check up and make sure you were still doing alright. I mean, like, I know Mr Stark probably has you on top tier medical sh- crap and stuff, but you seemed kind of out of it and the burn had looked pretty bad, originally.” Tony didn't know if the whole ‘being able to go weirdly extended periods without breathing’ was because of his enhancements or just a Peter thing, cause by the time he finished speaking, the kid didn't even seem out of breath -- despite rambling.

 

Harley, at this, looked slightly uncomfortable. Not a lot, and only in the way one could tell by talking to the kid every week since he was ten, but just unknowing of exactly what to say or do. Spidey was a stranger, a stranger who’d saved him once but a stranger nonetheless. 

 

There was one vigilante in the town over from Rose Hill, and he didn't really see Tony as a hero much more than his suit being a cool piece of tech -- not anymore at least. Yeah, Iron Man was cool, but J.A.R.V.I.S. had done a lot of the original heavy lifting. He didn't know what to do when a superhero came to check on you, ask you about an injury you can't technically really feel, that's somehow gotten better weirdly quickly.

 

In a stroke of what at the moment Tony will call luck and not possibly have any bad implications later down the line, Harley had been around Tony enough to adapt his overconfidence in the face of things he didn't understand, and the kid shot Peter a thankful smile. “Thanks, Spider-man. I’m actually doing a lot better. Dr Cho said it wasn't as bad as it looked.” His words were carefully crafted, so much so his slight accent was thinner than usual. Peter didn't notice, which was thankful given that the last part was a lie.

 

“That's good.” The younger hero’s body sagged in relief, eyes oddly trained intently on Harley’s. “I don't normally swing around with people and I was worried I’d jostled your injuries.” He says honestly, moving to fiddle with his fingers, again.

 

Tony watched them as Peter stumbled over making sure Harley was okay, pointedly not glancing at the cane more than once while the other boy wasn't looking, and Harley kept awkwardly telling him ‘thanks’ and ‘I’m fine now’. The whole ordeal took less than a few minutes, and by the time Peter left the office, stiffly, Tony couldn't help but huff in amusement and pat him on the back as he left. A 'you're doing great, kid’, a second nature for Tony at this point to offer assurance.

 

Harley was decidedly not watching as Peter left, instead grabbing his phone from the edge of Happy’s desk and taking a few breaths. Something else was evidently on his mind, but Tony couldn’t place it. It was also clear that Harley didn’t want to talk about it, so he wouldn’t ask for now. Maybe he’d talk to Pepper, see what she thought. She was always good at talking to people.

 

“Okay then,” Tony started, clapping his hands together with a half forced smile. “Ready to go? I have a list of places we should probably stop, and I’m pretty sure Friday already told our driver to be outside.”

 

They needed a slightly bigger space than any of Tony’s sports cars, and he wasn't going to go into a store with a parked Rolls Royce on 5th Avenue , so a driver would be fine. Plus, Tony wouldn't be caught dead driving a B.M.W. , he didn't support them in any way. Coolant system leaks, constant electrical failures, a near-constant check-engine light -- God there was simply so much wrong with those cars and he wouldn't stand for it. ( That being said, he was sure Harley preferred the anonymity, and given the kid once called a Lincoln Town Car 'somewhat reliable’, he wasn’t at liberty to have an opinion. )

 

Harley nodded in confirmation of hearing, and the two walked out to the car. Since The Stark Industries buildings were set up between Midtown Manhattan and Hell’s Kitchen, 5th avenue wasn't too far away. They were newly built, replacing older companies that he’d taken over and had officially under Stark Industries -- the company was branching out into a ton of different networks since the weapons division was shut down -- and they were three matching skyscrapers with ‘STARK INDUSTRIES’ down the side of each. R&D and Electronics met with a bridge, while marketing was sizably taller by a few floors. It held Avengers’ related public relations department that was pretty under wraps, but when asked the height difference could be chalked up to simply having a whole call centre in the building or something.

 

On the intersection, the third building to top everything off was a bank building, pretty nondescript and inconsequential, but the bottom three floors was a STARK store, with electronics up the wazoo . Not to mention, any shops around the area were one's he’d paid to be there -- the drink place Pepper liked, an independent burger joint, and a few other favourites. It was technically just around the corner from Town Square, but the new area for his buildings had somewhat jokingly been referred to as Stark Square .

 

 If he was any less egotistical, he might've found the repetitive use of his name annoying. But, he was Tony freaking Stark .

 

Their car was, in fact, waiting outside. It was all black with slightly too-tinted windows -- which was apparently fine when no one even tried suing you for minor infractions as such -- and any usual indicators of company cars were void of the paint. He’d technically bought it for Peter’s sake. For when he’d had the kid picked up and, more recently, when he had to pick up vigilanties from the New York streets whom he was partnering with.

 

He had Harley get in first, helping him sit with Tony’s weight as the man held his cane out of the way, and Tony slipped in after. Their driver, an ex-shield employee after the fall, was already waiting for them. She was the designated driver for any non-spider-man related pick-ups, and even took over from Happy for that, on occasions he was off or working as S.I. security. She had a strikingly high level of clearance, and was in the same ranks as Clint and Coulson back in their S.H.I.E.L.D. days. And, a plus, she didn’t snark back like Happy and made pleasant conversation if warranted.

 

“Good morning, Mr Stark.” Ms Goldberg greeted, upon the door shutting. “How was your meeting?”

 

“Boring, but thanks, Goldie.” He replied simply.

 

She started maneuvering the car from the curb, and pulled into the main street lanes. She knew where to go first, and didn’t bother asking. “And, Is this Mr Keener?” She asked, despite already knowing the answer. Her tone was kind, though, and Harley nodded at her in the rear-view mirror’s reflection. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

Tony watched as Harley rose a brow, and he didn't blame him one bit. He hadn't outwardly spoken much about the kid to anyone who didn't already know vaguely of what's happened or who he was before. Plus, he never took the car.

 

“Really?” Harley had decided on asking, skepticism leaking into his words. 

 

Ms Goldberg nodded. “Yes, really. Many vigilanties I drive around find you quite intriguing, actually. Especially the Devil, he thinks you're Mr Stark’s own spurious son from his Playboy days.” The last half was spoken as if it was a secret, but a grin broke out on her face and within ending the sentence she couldn't help but let out a short laugh. “He's quite the theorist.” She said conspiratorially. 

 

Harley furrowed his brow when she mentioned ‘The Devil’, but he quickly seemed more interested as the realization seemed to dawn on him. Ms Goldberg never said real names, for sake of secret identities and all, but referred to people as a title, and Harley was a pretty smart kid for all intensive purposes. Tony was still Mr Stark since he was both her boss and his identity was known, but The Devil was less known as Matt Murdock, S.I.’s favourite lawyer and son of a famed boxer. It helped with keeping things clear and concise, and oftentimes the other Vigilanties talked about each other often enough to warrant this reference. 

 

The Devil, The Spider -- though, recently they've come to the conclusion that title would have to change, given Peter’s new spider friend --, Mr Moon, Miss Jess, Mr Power, and Mr Castle were all people Ms Goldberg found herself driving on behalf of Avengers-related business. And, vigilantes were nosy, so a system was developed.

 

“Are you gossiping about The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?” Harley asked, ever so tactfully. He seemed equal parts incredulous, and intrigued. Tony absentmindedly wondered how he knew of Murdock, given the vigilante avoided media like the plague.

 

Harley’s words seemed to catch up to himself, opening his mouth to try and rephrase in a way that sounded less rude or something Tony would assume, but Ms Goldberg just chuckled. “Me? Gossip? Never.” She lied, pausing for dramatic effect, and Tony could tell what she’d say next. It's one of the reasons he’d hired her. ” Although , I can if you’d like.” 

 

The kid’s eyes widened exponentially, mouth hanging agape while the corners of his lips tugged on a sort of smile. The rest of the ride was filled with chatter, and Tony could almost forget he was in a B.M.W. -- he was nothing, if not dramatic -- and by the time they’d arrived at their first stop, Harley looked slightly disappointed to end their conversation about if they thought The Devil could win against the Black Widow in a fight. ( Neither really had an answer, but they were weighing pros and cons, currently it was still a tie. )

 

When they stepped out, Ms Goldberg rolled down her window. “If you’ll have Miss Friday message me when you're checking out, I’ll be outside when you arrive.” She told him, flashing a genuinely kind smile before driving off. 

 

They were at 52nd and 5th, and Tony could admit the area was a little overwhelming, so he wasted no time in walking Harley into the huge clothing store on the corner. They were technically stopping at two corners here, but they’d have to first get the kid into the mindset that he could accept Tony would be spending money on him that day, before he tried getting the kid thousand dollar items. Sometimes, even if it was for his health, Harley acted a little star struck anytime they’d gone shopping in the past. Or, that one time he’d jokingly asked Tony to send him a pizza, and from the one place that delivered it in Rose Hill he’d gotten a half and half pepperoni pizza. 

 

“Alright, so,” Tony started, looking down at Harley through the kid’s sunglasses as he rose his brow to look over his own. “Pepper thought it would be nice to get you a few more outfits for school and stuff.” He huffs, turning his tone into something more flippant. “Technically, while your school doesn't have uniforms, the dress code is ‘Business Casual’ and she wants you to have a few options.” 

 

Harley doesn't let himself look much shocked, rather a tad hesitant, but slowly nods in understanding. “I should’a guessed.” He halfheartedly jokes. Tony smiles.

 

“Yeah. It's all about ‘being prepared for the future’ and all that jazz. But, luckily for you, I have spent years in nothing but business casual and am an expert.” He pauses, “Plus, I know The Little Miss has been basically in charge of your outfits for the last few years, and she had sent me a board ‘just in case’ so I know what’ll match the stuff already in your closet.”

 

See, one thing many people didn't know about Tony, is how much he valued fashion. He was a playboy billionaire who was invited to the world’s top parties, a ‘casanova’ starring as a guest in popular T.V. series and movies. Before Afghanistan, before Iron man, he wasn't just known for his weapons manufacturing. He helped the technology to produce better crops, preservatives for those in the military, advanced medical equipment that’d help both on and off the field -- he didn't just make weapons for the army, he built the regime’s technology from the ground up. 

 

He was famously popular for all of this, and was invited to many things in turn. He practically had Donatella Versace’s number favourited with how often they’d spoken fashion. Abby liked fashion as well, especially the fabrics side of things with textural congruence and how they mixed with colors. Harley saw that in her, he’d told Tony one night how he always told people who liked his clothes that his little sister picked them out -- using her full name as if she was already well known. And he knew, if anything, Harley would be a little less homesick if Abby was still picking out his clothes from Rose Hill, Tenassee.

 

The kid’s face softened at the mention of her, and Tony brought them to a section of the store with suits. It wasn't exactly a store made specifically for formal wear, but rather formal wear from a brand that wasn't so in your face. It wasn't too big of a store, but it’d been there for a little over a century and the quality was amazing.

 

“I feel like I should really stop you and Abs from conspiring as often.” Harley had joked, schooling his smile into something less genuine and more playful. It was an offer, a silent letter telling Tony ‘Yeah, that's fine ’ without losing his usual ‘ lax demeanour.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m the least of your worries; wait until she starts conspiring with Pepper.” Harley laughs, and Tony starts moving him to the different suits.

 

It's business casual, so technically suits aren't required, but he might as well get him some full sets for galas, parties, or public appearances if he ever was to join himself and Pepper for one. Plus, he tells Harley that he can pair the coloured blazers with simple slacks and a decent shirt, and it's automatically business casual. It doesn't have to be a full ensemble -- though when Tony went there, he basically lived on waistcoats and dress shirts -- but by getting the whole suit, he can mix and match. 

 

So he gets a few basics like black and blue, and while he's at it he grabs some colours. Sage green, cardinal red, maroon in corduroy, and cream in tweed. Plus, a few different coloured long sleeve button downs, silks, satins, and cottons. Harley was taken aback when he’d offered to have a shirt in each colour and doubled with the same in the separate materials, but Tony shrugged it off saying something along the lines for him to think of it like buying him school uniforms -- pretty much a half truth just to get the kid to accept he wasn’t not going to be buying him things.

 

And, okay, maybe Tony does go a little overboard. Harley asks about the total when they’re exiting, after telling the clerks who already know him well to forward the bill, and Tony pointedly says nothing. They’re quality suits, to be fair, and he doesn’t mind spending nearly thirty thousand dollars for said quality.

 

They didn’t take measurements, and they left with none of the items. Despite him being well comfortable with the staff, he knew Harley wouldn't be able to do that on account of many things. F.R.I.D.A.Y., the dear, had sent the necessary measurements in their system the second they walked in, and shooed workers away when they tried getting them. The suits would be worked on, made to order -- the ones they saw in stores where mannequins with photo cards to take and purchase -- and a driver would be sent for them. It’d be the only place that they wouldn't be taking home physical items. They still had a few other things to get. Atop of jewellery, they still needed shoes, school supplies, miscellaneous teenager things -- Tony’s not quite sure what exactly is supposed to fall into that category, but there's a Target near Harold Square F.R.I.D.A.Y. said would have anything else they need. 

 

He did a little research on how to take care of kids -- the filler word he’d used was  ‘adoptive teenagers’, actually -- and there were a few things on making the place seem more like a home rather than an extended-stay hotel. Picking out bath products rather than issuing out a standard, finding things for him to clutter general spaces with, give them space, create and respect clear boundaries, meet them where they’re at, etc. And, though he was kind of freaked out at the prospect of it all that a whole person would be relying on him, he was also decently confident. He created an element and was arguably one of the smartest men alive, he could so take care of a teenager. Accounting for the vampire aspects of his kid shouldn’t be too hard either, it should be generally the same, if Strange’s ‘vampire parenting’ book was anything to go by -- given out in the original care package for him to read.

 

It'd said young, freshly turned, vampires were kind of like teenagers in the first place. He didn’t like thinking about minor aspects about that, like how though he was already dealing with the difficulty of life and being a teen, he had to deal with double. Tony remembers being a teenager, and he knows Harley doesn’t have to deal with what he did growing up, but he didn’t have the luxury of having his whole life planned out. Now he has to deal with applying to college while attending high school, making an idea for what he wants in the future for a career, try not to out himself as a vampire while drinking a decent amount of blood, avoiding sun because it’ll make new instincts go haywire if he's not completely calm -- not to mention having the new instincts in the first place. It was rough, and he wanted the kid to feel safe.

 

He didn't know how much Harley had read so far about his instincts or what information he’d gotten from the book Strange gave him, but Tony had noticed a few things in the short time since his New York arrival.

 

 He was a lot more tactile. While he stayed in bed over the last week, only occasionally getting up and moving to sit somewhere else for a change of scenery, Tony had made it his personal goal to keep the kid at least entertained. He’d invite him into his lab, under strict supervision as long as he didn't make any sudden movements to injure himself further, and he’d talk to him. The first time Tony brought him in, he looked slightly annoyed, but he couldn't tell if it was particularly at him given he seemed to wipe it away pretty often, as if it was subconscious to be annoyed. The next time, he was more pensive, but after nearly twenty minutes he asked Tony to get him a drink.

 

When he came back, Tony opened the pseudo juice box for him as if he was a little kid, joking the whole way, and handed it over when done. And then, when it was taken, he patted him on the shoulder and Harley stilled. It was sudden, and Tony thought he’d done something wrong . But he saw the way how Harley’s eyes dilated.

 

He was eerily unmoving, and Tony could swear it was for less than ten seconds, but the kid’s face morphed through relief, curiosity, and realization, before landing on a well schooled indifference. He left nearly ten minutes later, box half drunk and sitting at the table he’d been at. When he asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. of what that could possibly be -- because of course he’d had DUM-E scan the pages for him and uploaded them to her servers -- she told him it was “ Very likely related to his instincts, boss. ”, and didn't explain without prompting.

 

If Tony had been the same man he was ten years before, just before Afghanistan, he'd have laughed at the prospect that even if vampires were real, movies getting any part of it right was unrealistic and baseless. He’d watched Star Wars more times than he would've ever chosen for himself thanks to a certain spider-kid, and nothing was particularly correct in any way.

 

But, as the book states plainly, Harley was a fledgling. Harley’s mind was being dumped with an overhaul of new biological reactions and emotions. It was almost eerie how similar vampire-related books from before the year two thousand had possibly accurate representations of vampires if told by human standards with little inside. Most horror stories, about those few and far between who’d gone against any covertness that was usually opted for. 

 

Fledgelings were quick to hunger, craved family, cherished bonds, valued appearance, couldn't handle direct light very well -- almost like a basement mouse or an alleycat --, and most importantly needed physical touch. They were like baby birds, needed a safe place to sleep, comfortable and made up of cherished items, and normally needed someone to show them the ropes. They needed a dad or mentor to help them, and it didn't need to be the person who turned them, unlike how the word they used implied from media adaptation. 

 

It was called loads of things, and normally whatever the person who turned you knew it as would be what the fledgling would originally start calling it, but a Sire was supposed to be a caretaker. It was supposed to be a familial bond, and normally covens would have a resident Sire, who’d take care of fledglings. There were tons of old rules about Sires that the book explicitly said weren't necessary after the turn of the century -- not the twenty first -- that kardiá had to be approved by a Sire and things along the lines of requiring a Sire to cook for the kardiás, but it was all dated.

 

In the book were first hand accounts of how they described their sire, and how their instincts felt. They said it was like a voice, an insistent voice. Some people liked it, it apparently told them what to do in most situations, while others who were more headstrong or regretted being turned later had been pensive about it. They didn't like it, and often wouldn't elaborate.

 

It didn't take a genius for him to realize that, after extensive reading, Harley started to see him like that. ( Or maybe it did take a genius, given Tony spent more time than he was willing to admit, hunched over his desk while reading and rereading the digitized copy of the book. )

 

He was flattered, really. He knew Abby saw him as her dad, she said she couldn't care less about their real one and that she barely even remembered him. Harley was a little different. He remembered, and Tony wasn't a stranger to not wanting to put hope in something that could be lost just as quickly.

 

He’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try and be the best sire there was.

 

Empty handed so far, Tony and Harley waited for the light to turn, to walk across the street. The jewelry store was on the other side. He at first hadn’t known how he should go about getting things for his kid, so he talked to Pepper about it. She told him to do what he was doing with everything else, shop for a baseline with him -- get a feel for what things he likes and things he stays away from -- then he’ll know what to buy later. So far he’d done that with the suits. Harley liked the dimmed colours and long ended jackets, which was more likely than not to be something that was a part of his ‘god given style’ -- more accurately, given to him by one, Abigail Keener. 

 

Pepper also said he had no clue what styles Harley would like best for jewelry, so he’d have to figure it out at some point.

 

The book said giving gifts was like a chemically controlled dose of oxytocin and serotonin, or something in between. Like whatever your love language was had been immediately swapped out upon turning and further laced with instincts. Tony was good at gift giving -- or, he tried to be. He liked buying things for people, but was never usually quite sure what most liked. Even with Pepper it was difficult, and eventually he just gave her an AmEx card, and smiled whenever he’d gotten a notification stating something had been bought with it. He wanted to do more for Harley, though. He wanted to help the kid feel as comfortable as possible, and despite his own five minute attention span, he’d damn do his hardest. He had a list, he had taken the day from most meetings, paperwork, and activities, and he was determined to get the kid something that’d help him. Even if he didn’t know it by hand, the book said instincts were hard to shake, and something like this would make it better.

 

“Why here? I thought we were just gettin’ school stuff,”

 

Harley’s voice cut through his thoughts, just as they were less than ten feet from the front doors. The looming baroque building stood in stark contrast to the more modern skyscrapers surrounding it. Harley was at him questioningly, evidently having not come to the same conclusions Tony had.

Tony sighed, this probably wasn’t a conversation to have on the sidewalk, in one of the busiest New York districts, but he never claimed to be completely mindful. He relaxed his shoulders and turned to the kid, a small and hopefully reassuring smile on his face. In turn, he seemed more confused but slowly moved as well to face Tony.  “Stephen gave me a book, like yours, when we saw him.” Harley raised a brow, in lieu of telling him to proceed.

 

“I’ve been doing some research with it, and apparently getting you some jewelry would help with your instincts.” Tony kept an eye on Harley’s expression the whole time, “Pepper thought it was a good idea, too.” he added secondly.

 

Harley, for his credit, had looked between unimpressed and like he wanted to shut down Tony's thoughts before they started -- despite this being a long thought out plan. 

 

“I have jewellery.” He tried stressing the words, not wanting to directly turn it down for manners sake, but also being completely taken aback by the daunting building beside them. Tony’s expression didn't seem to waiver, and Harley, being the master manipulator he was, decided to change tactics. “What's wrong with what I have?” He challenged, a lilt of amusement lacing his tone.

 

If someone could catch the moment in time when Tony went stark still, Harley would consider loving them forever. He was wide eyed and surprise was written on his face, in a pen the colour of guilt. But, just as soon as the moment came, it went. Tony knew him pretty well, which means he also knew that Harley was bullshitting and mostly confused about the situation and not questioning why he thought the earrings Abby got him just after he self pierced his ears weren't good enough.

 

“Now, kid, you know that isn't what I meant.” Tony gives him a flat look before sighing. “This is just a little more permanent than what you have right now.” 

 

He tries a half truth. He doesn't know what Harley knows about the situation at hand, and he doesn't want to scare him off. It is a permanent solution, and Tony knows as a fact that Harley’s only real jewellery are a pair of sterling silver earrings that he got when he first pierced his ears, Ms Keener told him a whole lot about the situation when it happened. She was halfway from affronted to hurt, since Harley had done it behind her back and mostly illegally. He’d been sold sterling silver studs to put on, keeping the holes open.

 

Harley, much to his chagrin, gave a perturbed look at the mere prospect. So much for not scaring him off. “Tony. This is Cartier .” He said, as if it meant something, while his hands gestured to the old building.

 

“Yes, and …? ” If using your billionaire status as a scapegoat for pretending you're ignorant to the monetary value of something was wrong, then Tony was glad to take that title. He wasn’t stupid, but it was possibly the only way to get the kid to accept his terms. 

 

Harley looked starstruck at the prospect, but Tony was glad to report maybe he was still a good actor when times called for it. The kid sighed before his expression resigned into something of reluctance. Tony smiled at that, and put an arm around his kid, pulling him into the store.

 

“While we’re here, we should get Pepper something as well. She’s had to deal with our international branch over the last week.” Tony told him, just as an associate in a neat suit starts to walk over. Harley nods shortly, and after a greeting they’re shown some of the collections.

Notes:

i hope yall liked the chapter! i am simply so obsessed with these characters and can't wait for you all to see the next chapter (harley meets a few friends ;D ) and if you want to talk about it or ask about anything, my tumblr is th3sungod i love yapping about parkner sm so !!!!!

anyways a few things abt this chapter (easter eggs? kinda?)
- when i originally did the math for how much tony would spend on all he bought from the formalwear store, it was inf act 30k dollars (give or take a thousand)
- the necklace harley has is real!
the story behind it is also very old and interesting ^^
- pepper mentions 'oceans 8' in this chapter, and i actually had no clue it only came out in summer of 2018 (which is when this fic takes place)

anyways that is all!!! i will probably post next sunday so be prepared!!!!! its a very plot relevant chapter!!!

Chapter 3: Displaying Cravings With Open Eyes For Something Mind-Expanding

Summary:

Despite not really needing to eat real food anymore, Tony and Pepper brought him to restaurants that served steak blue so he could eat with them out, and they’d talk like a normal family over dinner.

It only quarterly shattered when Pepper told him the week’s plan.

“We need to get ahead of the press.” She’d said, with her green eyes looking almost sympathetic. “Teenagers gossip, and speculation can get messy really quick.”

Notes:

this chapter is once again unbeta-ed, but will be updated when it is. i have had nearly no time at all this week so i've barely opened ao3 at all, but i will get back to replying + beta-ing as soon as i can. next week's chapter might be a little late since it has a lot more editing to do, but nonetheless here this is!

chapter title from Privately Owned Spiral Galaxy by crywank

The day ended in a blur, after they left the Cartier mansion. Harley picked out school supplies, things for his room, overpriced toiletries -- the shampoo was nearly fifteen dollars, alone -- and it ended with only a slight humming of anxiety. He didn’t give much thought to the jewelry he picked out, and he figured early on that Tony was purposely keeping the prices from him for specific items, which he did his best not to think about.

 

He felt both uncomfortable at the prospect of spending so much on him, while the little voice in his head preened under it all. 

 

When he got something at cartier, under the pretense of it ‘helping with his instincts’ -- Tony’s words -- he at first didn’t think it’d matter too much. He was kind of hoping at first that they’d walk in, pick something for Pepper, and leave with Harley saying how ‘nothing really spoke to him’ or something to keep it all reasonable. Instincts made it sound animalistic and like he was only humanoid and not actually human. Granted, he wasn’t, but he didn’t like the reminder.

 

They were shown multiple floors, with custom and mass pieces alike. They got Pepper the new LOVE collection in gold, which was equal parts elegant and dainty. Harley passively wondered if all of her jewelry was designer like that, as Tony debated on getting a ‘wedding day set’, previously owned by a Moroccan monarch that Cartier had. Why it was in their possession was a mystery to him, and Tony had decided if it was untouched when they inevitably went back to wedding planning, he’d gladly purchase it. 

 

In the same room as the set is where Harley’s instincts went haywire, to say the very least. There was a necklace, something similar to vintage pieces he knew Abby would fawn over, with pearls and silver stars, with a pear shaped pearl in the same position as a cross on a rosary. It had a red gemstone and what could only be tens of diamonds. It looked expensive, and the human part of Halrey’s brain thought it gaudy, while the other part was more intrigued. The little voice seemed to trill at the idea, if Harley could best describe the sound, while going on about how that one was just perfect and how he absolutely needed it.

 

In what seemed like a blink, he was leaving the store with the necklace.

 

Since they ended up getting home pretty late, he’d called his little sister the following day and told her about it, showing her the necklace. She, being strangely well informed about everything about fashion from the last thousand years for some odd reason, knew of the necklace already and took a minute to freak out before telling him all about it.

 

The spark notes version of it, during a call that subsequently lasted nearly four hours, were as follows. It's called La Peregrina Pearl . It’s hundreds of years old and was a part of the Spanish crown jewels at some point and owned by a famous actor, before being sold a few years ago to what was supposed to be a ‘private buyer’. It was one of a kind, and allegedly cursed  -- which he didn’t believe the latter part for a second. 

 

He didn’t tell her the whole story on the 'instincts part’, and only that Tony assumed he had them. He moved on from the mention before Abby could ask if he actually had instincts. For all the odd shot confidence blood gave him, it was evident there was a line.

 

The first time he wore the necklace out was the following Friday, with a loose fitting button down, brown bomber jacket, and ripped jeans. He didn’t think to wear it at first, it wouldn’t exactly match in his eyes and he didn’t think of it. But then, just when he was about to put on a pair of earrings for the sake of ‘juxtaposition’ and to add a level of daint, he caught it from the corner of his eye. The necklace’s box, on his desk where he’d put it, in a velvet carry case.

 

And it was like the voice trilled, and he didn’t really think in the moment as he opened the case without any preamble and carefully put it on. And, when he looked in the mirror, he thought maybe he could finally understand what Abby meant by ‘adding a touch of femininity to your look’.

 

The ruby matched his eyes, with a glint he never noticed before. 

 

Like the diamonds and pearls beside the ruby, his skin opposed the red of his eyes. The olive undertone made the red contrast starkly, yet complementing in the same breath. It was like a black and white filter. The dark jacket, dark jeans, light shirt, light skin, light necklace, dark gemstone, dark eyes. He brought a hand up to touch the ruby, delicately tracing the vertices. It was so pretty; his eyes were starting to buzz behind the whites--

 

“ Mr Keener, Boss wants me to tell you he and Miss Potts are ready downstairs. The reservation is set for approximately twenty minutes from now. It takes approximately fourteen to get there with current traffic. ” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chirped informatively, breaking whatever moment he’d caught himself in. Harley blinked twice, and the colours didn’t contrast any less, but they seemed like it.

He swallowed thickly, ignoring what had just transpired -- despite really not knowing what it was in the first place. “Thanks, Fri.”

 

He wore it the Sunday after then, and on Wednesday, Friday, and so on. It was everytime he went out, and each time was the same. He was happy when he had the necklace on, as elementary as it sounded. It made his mind quieter and he really couldn’t explain it.

It was Monday again, the thirtieth of the month, and barely a week before school was supposed to start back up. Harley was in a car, wearing the necklace, and Pepper was beside him. She had the day off, and Tony was doing Avengers business, so she was going with him to the open house for his new school. 

 

He had gotten a bit more information about it over the last few days, and he was honestly a little excited about it, if you ignored the usual anxiety over everything else. ‘ Socrates’ was a school based in S.T.E.M. academics, but provided hyper-advanced business classes as a minor program on the side. It was the best S.T.E.M. school in New York, and was the priciest by a large margin, according to the internet. They had a long term rivalry with a school on Long Island, ‘Midtown: Science and Technology’, and had a long list of notable alumni.

 

Open houses weren’t typically for older students, but he was new, and Pepper insisted they meet his teachers beforehand.

 

When they arrived, Harley dawned his newly patented regular-looking glasses that projected holograms over his eyes-- thank you, Stark Tech --, while Pepper politely took her sunglasses off. He was, at first, worried people would make a fuss of her being there -- since she was actively one of the most influential people on the planet at the moment. But, she assured him before they left the car that ‘Rich people don’t make a big fuss of other rich people’ she’d put in simple terms, and since she wasn’t directly Iron Man, not many would even try bothering them. Somehow, despite her not saying anything further, he could almost hear the ‘ Or they shouldn’t ’, that carried.

 

The place was huge, built like a mix between The Pantheon and Hagia Sophia , wrapped into a school and sitting on the Hudson. It wasn’t actually sitting on the water, and it wasn’t that big, but the water was distant in the scenery behind it and the architecture made it stand out amongst the normal buildings. It was near of 62nd and Freedom, still technically in Lincoln Square. Walking distance from his new home, in theory, but unfortunately Pepper and Tony had already assigned him a driver.

 

The two made their way to the front desk and were directed to the auditorium. There, they were given a schedule at one of four tables while a speaker droned along on stage. Something about being glad to have new students and how ‘you are now representatives of our school’ -- the normal spiel. 

 

They got in the line for K , and at the front Harley was met with a girl who looked about his age, who was probably the most interesting he’d met in real life -- if a few exchanged words could be counted as a real meeting. She had white platinum hair that dipped into pink ends, with a zebra stripe on the side of her fringe, while the opposite end was much shorter and mostly the pink colour. She looked like a Lisa Frank book and ‘Misery Business’ was dumped into a emo style from 2007, with minor enough modern touches to inform you that time has in fact passed since the year. Beside her was a boy who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, though with a much more simple look in semi-formal wear. The sheer dichotomy between them could've been written in a thousand books, and with how close they were sitting, clearly comfortable with one another, their friendship was evident.

 

“Hi! Name?” The girl asked, getting right to the point, with a stack of papers already in her hands. 

 

“Harley Keener.”

 

She nodded in hearing and after a glance down at her papers, she promptly set them down and took another stack off the table. She was muttering his last name as she looked for it, using a concentrate of expression while the teen beside her looked at Harley up-and-down before becoming amused.

 

He picked up a different stack that was much smaller, before the girl piped up again.

 

“Keener-- uh, Harry I don't see ‘Kenner’ anywhere in the K ’s, have you seen it?” She asked, perplexed, not bothering to look up as she started at the front of the stack once again.

 

The teen, Harry, smiled. “Yep.” He handed Harley the paper, and the girl looked up, puzzled before some sort of realization seemed to dawn.

 

“Oh, you're a senior . I didn't even realize.” The girl smacked her forehead, not unlike a cartoon character, before setting the pile down and smiling at Harley. “Hi, I’m Gwen, I’m a senior too, so if there's anything you need, feel free to come back to this table and ask. We’re also gonna be in the same homeroom, so don't worry if you forget to ask.” She recited, then grabbing him a small pamphlet from the end of the table, “This is information about senior photos and class rings, all that jazz, you know? Oh, and this is Harry, he can help you too!” Gwen pointed at the teen beside her, who gave a polite nod.

 

The way she spoke made it clear it was something they had to tell all senior students, so Harley was nonplussed about being all but shooed away at the end of a pretty one sided, conversation. She seemed nice though.

 

Pepper took the pamphlet, thumbing through it, while Harley looked at his times table. It was a A/B block schedule, alternating Fridays with homeroom after the first period and only four classes a day. He didn't really know what to expect, since he didn't pick any of them, but after a glance he could tell Tony had probably selected it for him. He had both metalworking and robotics on his B schedule, while A had programming and forensic science. He’d heard of those types of classes online, and had gushed one day about how cool it was for high school students to be doing forensic science. Or how he’d tell Tony he wished he could just stay in his workshop all day, building and rebuilding different things. There were also normal things like spanish four, since he was already on course for getting a biliteracy seal, and D.E. Calculus for his last math credit. Tony just thought ahead, and he appreciated it.

 

Pepper suggested they meet his teachers by each floor, the senior building went four up, and the classes were heavily separated it seemed. The main building was sectioned for their non-S.T.E.M. subjects, with the cafeteria, auditorium, media centre and library there as well. The other four buildings were done up with grade separated classes. The other buildings split off from the main, though were outerly connected; Southern with for freshmen, West for sophomores, east juniors, and north for seniors. The entrance was through the south side, all according to the map on the back of his schedule. 

 

They went from classroom to classroom, meeting teachers -- half genuine while the other half acting like they could be paid off at the drop of a hat. Pepper seemed to notice it too, when his teacher for English 4 seemed more enamoured by the fact she was C.E.O. of Stark Industries and barely looked at her actual student. When they left that room, Pepper didn’t suppress the roll of her eyes and Harley couldn’t help but laugh. 

 

The A.P.-U.S. Government teacher was no better. She engaged with Harley, but after the ‘So are you excited for the new year?’ question, all talk following was of Pepper, the company, and very friendly questions that seemed a little out of place. Too kind and too shallow, it was clear she didn't care about the answers, and after every question she’d insert herself as if trying to pitch an idea to Shark Tank . Pepper, being the perfectly posed and fearsome woman she was, managed to get them out of there like an art form.

 

This time, they waited until they were back downstairs until Pepper huffed at the ridiculousness. “At least you know she’ll probably respect you.” She said in a mix of jovial exasperation. “I don’t think I’ve seen someone suck up like that since two-thousand and ten.”

 

“ Pepper ,” Harley’s jaw dropped at her words, in a half joking manner. “Aren't you supposed to, ya’know, tell me to not use status as a pillar of respect- or something like that?” He raised a brow.

 

She scrunched her nose. “Yeah, probably. But, as a great warrior once said, ‘Benefit from your enemies' weaknesses’,” She waved the idea away with a hand, “Or something like that.”

 

“Oh really?” He asked skeptically, ”And who said that?”

 

“Sun Tzu, probably. Or Tony- it was very possibly something he said to me once while trying to get out of paperwork now that I’m thinking about it.” She seemed to ponder the idea, “Still a great warrior, nonetheless.”

 

Harley groaned. “You’re starting to sound too much like him. I don’t think I can handle two Tony’s.”

 

“You’re being dramatic. Trust me, I don’t think anyone can truly mimic Tony Stark.” She told him, just as the two walked past the auditorium.

 

There were still people inside, but the person monologuing on stage had since left. The two seniors he’d met earlier were sitting at the table, talking while the girl -- Gwen -- was absentmindedly throwing a pen in the air and catching it, each time getting higher and higher. Harry was using one hand to gesture on whatever he was talking about, and he kind of hoped he’d get to talk to them more. They seemed nice enough.

 

.

 

The next week was both too long and too short. Strange came by to clear him, saying the cane was no longer necessary, but to keep it in case. (Of what, he didn’t ask.)

 

He was still left at the house for the most part, Tony having to work with Avengers-related business while Pepper had a company to run. He still went out with them in the evening, like the day he first wore his new necklace, to art shows and New York ‘High Life’ scenes. Despite not really needing to eat real food anymore, Tony and Pepper brought him to restaurants that served steak blue so he could eat with them out, and they’d talk like a normal family over dinner.

 

It only quarterly shattered when Pepper told him the week’s plan.

 

“We need to get ahead of the press.” She’d said, with her green eyes looking almost sympathetic. “Teenagers gossip, and speculation can get messy really quick.”

 

They’d have to announce Harley, or something. Make a public post about him, while keeping it vague enough to allow for privacy. Not a press conference, but just enough publication for outlets to look at Iron Man with a random teenager and be shrugged off cause that was just Harley.

 

The conversation was out of love, he could tell Pepper was doing this for his own good, so he tried warming up to the idea. This was so he didn't get immediately kidnapped for secret Avengers information with a sprig of ‘I have friends in high places’. It was a carefully crafted song and dance, which Harley could appreciate, so the second he knew this was a ‘nonnegotiable’, he slumped his shoulders and asked what he had to do.

 

It was a loaded question; it started with a masquerade ball.

 

To announce the new Avengers to the world, reintroducing rogues, and setting a formal appearance for Wakanda’s royalty -- the ball was many things. It’d also serve as Harley’s debut. If people tried asking who Harley was, Tony would simply reply with ‘his kid’, with such aloofness that they wouldn't even try questioning the statement until after.

 

Pepper assured him, as long as he was there, all else would be taken care of. He thanked her, took the stairs to his room, and called Abby. The ball would be on the fifth of August, a Sunday, and the eighth was his first day of school. 

 

The specifics about the ball were simple, and it had already been planned by the time Harley landed in New York. It wasn’t just for him, but Pepper was using it to her advantage. Apparently, Tony was supposed to tell him sooner, but he forgot. So, the next week was Pepper briefing him on attendees and minor P.R. training over dinner. 

 

Pepper presented him a few different mask options, telling him that one of the suits Tony got him would do just fine for the occasion, before asking if there was anything else he wanted done before he met the masses. He smiled at that, when Pepper offered to get him an appointment with the best hair or nail techs in Manhattan, but he declined for the moment, only half joking when he said he needed to ask Abby about it.

 

And, Abby was helpful. He’d shown her the suits that’d arrived nearly a week after purchase, in black garment bags. All the shirts had been folded and set neatly into his too-big closet, and he even found a few dress shoes that Harley didn’t remember picking. In that department, he quite vividly remembered how Tony looked at his shoes and proceeded to ask if he liked ‘those shoes’, before grabbing most of the colours the store had on their shelves. 

 

Abby told him to wear the corduroy suit in maroon, with a cream-coloured chiffon button down, and swap the corduroy waistcoat for a satin black one. Then, she proceeded to speak cryptically how she was sending an itemized list of other things he’d need, not before telling him that the black satin domino mask would then go well with his outfit. She ended the call soon after, saying she had to give Pepper a few more details.

 

He shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was to be brought for a nail appointment. Fitted with almond shaped black nails with a quilted pattern on a few fingers in silver lines, each divot holding an off white pearl. Accents with cream scalloped edges atop a maroon base. When he sent a message of ‘Really?’ to Abby, he got the suppliance of ‘it's a masquerade ball.’ and nothing else. He normally didn't care if people looked at his painted nails, bigots will be bigots and there was nothing to change the fact, but given he had school very soon, the nails might draw unwanted attention. He really didn't want to be too bold right out the door. 

 

He also couldn't imagine saying ‘No’ to Abby, which is why he, with bad grace, kept a polite smile while his nails were buffed and set with acrylic.

 

When he arrived home that evening, a shopping bag was on his bed, with different boxes. One with pearl cufflinks and earrings in pear-shapes, presumably to match his necklace. A silver wristwatch with an oblong rectangular face, and crystals embedded on the outer ring. Lastly in the box was a simple note, written in pen with semi-sloppy cursive -- Abby’s penmanship.

 

‘Silver rings. Second piercings get silver studs. Love Ya.’ With a heart beside the words.

 

He sighed, smiled, and set the items on his desk for Saturday. 

 

In a very short time, the day rolled around and he was standing in the Rainbow Room of Rockefeller Centre, having been rented out for the evening with none other than Mrs Bishop’s company as security along with some ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. The room was filled to the brim with Heroes, government persons and affiliates, the Chief of police, different county department heads, and trusted journalists to report on the night. 

 

He thought he’d stand out, with how gaudy his whole outfit was, but he was far from the most eccentric. Some high end officials and their dates were wearing some top-notch masquerade masks, with ostrich feathers and huge, probably swarovski, crystals. The heroes were almost no different, but kept the outfits matching their costumes if they weren't outright wearing them. Harley could easily spot some of the newer Avengers-adjacent vigilanties, newly heroes. Deadpool had seemingly worn his hero costume beneath an all black suit and Phantom of The Opera mask above his usual one. Daredevil wearing his cowl and a matching red suit, looking somehow like he’d be anywhere but there even with a mask covering his eyes completely. Spider-man in just his iron-suit, beside another hero with a similar spider-esque costume. 

 

There were other Avengers and X-men around, some in normal garb while others not, but having many homages to their name on their person. The Black Widow in a red and black colour-blocked dress, with a web-patterned mask on lace and two spiders on the corner in silver. Captain America in a navy suit with a white shirt and red pocket square, blue domino mask and shield on his back. Tony in a pretty similar style, with a basic red and gold themed suit, but with just the faceplate of his armour as an obvious indicator -- he really didn’t know how it was being held up, but Harley’s leading theory was nanobots.

 

Pepper was with him, matching him with a similar red colour as Tony’s, on a square-neck sheath dress, minimal golden accessories, and a hand held porcelain mask with red lips and gold details. She didn’t hold it up the whole time, and especially as she laughed at something Tony was telling Rhodey about, her hands making a playful, ‘ oh hush ’ gesture, while Rhodey’s face was still behind a silver plate.

 

Harley was still sitting in the corner, mask on and sipping on water. He was kind of bored, having already said hello to those he did know, while really meeting people would be after everyones pretty much arrived. In the meantime, Harley slipped from Tony’s side and sat at a stool at the open bar. Usually, in situations like this, he would go on his phone and message Abby, but this specific time she’d simply tell him to ‘ go meet people ’, as this was ‘ the party of the century ’ according to her. So he sat, observing the party in his all too dolled up attire as superheroes tried acting like functioning members of society who don’t cause international problems whenever they have a disagreement.

 

He watched as Hawkeye, the man indicative with a bow on his back, stood pretty still and uncomfortably in the corner until Black Widow dragged him to a small group with the other ex-rogues. As The Falcon seemed to be telling a story to Ant Man and Captain America, while Wanda Maximoff -- hero name, pending -- was looking around the party beside them. When he accidentally met her eyes, he looked away.

 

“I’ll have a Benedictine, on the rocks. Thanks.” A voice beside him said, and Harley glanced over.

 

Daredevil, who was no longer standing with the ex-vigilanties, with someone who he couldn't quite place in a long blue dress with a dropped waist and simple black domino mask. 

 

“I'll have a whiskey,” She said beside him, and Harley made sure to look anywhere else lest he was noticed staring at the vigilanties. He set his glass down, and moved to use his phone -- maybe some mindless social media could fill the time? -- and just as the latter half of vigilanties seems to make their way over to the bar. Harley ignored them and opened twitter.

 

He overheard as Deadpool ordered something, and while Spider-man -- the original, he guessed, since there were clearly two now -- tried ordering, he was spoken over by Deadpool to get a Shirley Temple . Spider-man groaned but didn't otherwise protest, while the other Spider themed vigilante doubled that order. All the while Harley was pointedly not paying any attention to them, totally. He was busy reading through some sort of callout thread on twitter about people he didn't know for all hell. 

 

It was actually pretty interesting, someone named Kalle had apparently been impersonating a celebrity in a discord server and no one noticed, before using that to scam people out of hundreds. It was crazy, actually, and the worst part is how many people fell for it. After looking at some of the screenshots, he really couldn’t understand how someone would get sucked into the stupid one line starter they had, but if he was honest it seemed kind of sad for reasons far past the scamming.

 

He took another sip of his water, glancing up as he did so, when he caught the sight of a pair of dramatized white eyes.

 

The other spider hero from the group of vigilantes, with a white suit with pink and black accents. The eyes looked wide, and Harley had half the mind to ask if their suit was made with the same material as Spider-man’s, since his looked more like spandex and wires, while theirs looked like kevlar. Abby would ask if they saw the difference, but Harley opted to offer a polite smile -- the one you give to people who you accidentally made eye contact with from across the street -- and look back down at his phone.

 

They weren't even too close, he was like four seats away from the gaggle of vigilantes and wasn't keen on talking to them if he was honest. Deadpool and Daredevil had been pretty known to operate far outside the law, besides things that would've been considered heroic if they were an Avenger. And, while Spider-man had been put in the ‘looks like a cinnamon roll; is a cinnamon roll’ in online alignment charts, somehow Harley is sure that's untrue given he was the first to really publicly team up with Deadpool and Daredevil in the first place. 

 

He tries looking at the next thing, going back to mindless scrolling, but a tap on his shoulder begrudges him to look up. He knows what he'll see, he saw them out of the corner of his eye, and so he puts on a pseudo friendly smile -- force of habit, really -- and turns to face the spider vigilante.

 

“Hi!” She chirped, “You seem lonely, but I wanted to say ‘ hi’ ‘cause your outfits, like, sick as fuck.” Wow, okay, right to the point. Her movements seem animated and from the few words she’d said, he could tell she was the type of person who’d gesture wildly with every word. “What's your name?”

 

“Uh,” He coughed, a smile creeping up on his face at the sheer forwardness.”Harley. And you’re--? Sorry, I just moved to town, I don’t recognise you.” He says the last part in earnest, and the spider themed vigilante dips her head slightly, embarrassed.

 

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m new. I’m Ghost-spider-- well, okay, The Daily Bugle likes to push ‘Spider-woman’ but Ghost-Spider sounds so much cooler, doesn’t it?”

 

“It does,” Harley agrees, only slightly taken aback at her forwardness, but he decided to roll with it. She smiles and it somehow is evident through her mask. 

 

“Exactly. Mr Oh-gee says ‘It's better not to fight with the press on the whole ‘name’ thing’, but in the case there's another girl-spider, I’m not taking away her naming opportunity-- And this isn’t like Batgirl and Batwoman.” She leveled him with a stare, as if saying ‘ you know what I mean? ’, and Harley hummed in understanding. “Now that I’m thinking about it, actually, Orircal would’ve been a sick name.”

 

“I think Ghost is nice, if it’s any consolation.” He offers. She squints, and the whites of her eyes replicate an eyeroll -- he’s definitely going to ask if Tony knows how the eyes work -- and goes to move on before a voice cuts through.

 

“Pinkie, you better not be giving away trade secrets to the Bon-Jovi circa ‘85 replica in the corner.” Harley turns his head to the sing-song voice to see Deadpool, and somehow he never expected when packing for New York. He should’ve, really , given this was the first of many similar nights.

 

Ghost-spider rolls her eyes again, somehow more dramatic and directed at Deadpool. “I thought we were done with the colour themed names after... ya 'know.”

 

“Double ‘Dee is a liar and whatever he told you is wrong.” Deadpool says, accused.

 

The spider vigilante laughs. “Yeah, okay. You’re both over-dramatic.”

 

There's a distant scoff from a few seats down, where Daredevil is speaking with the woman in blue, and while Deadpool looks affronted and doesn’t acknowledge it, Ghost-spider sends a glance toward the two talking before turning back to their conversation. He also notyices Spider-man is no longer in the area, but he doesn’t really question it. “Anyways, I was just telling my new friend here, about Me being the cool new spider on the streets, protecting Midtown Manhattan from petty crime.” She dramatizes, despite her earlier statement, causing her hands to paint the sky like a theatrical idea. 

 

“She's very enthusiastic.” Deadpool stage whispers to him, and Harley can’t hold back a small laugh. It's the prospect of the situation, he’s sitting here with two New York vigilantes barely a month after moving and Deadpool, of all people, is calling someone enthusiastic. He’s heard Tony talk about the ex-mercenary, and enthusiastic doesn’t even seem to cover his antics.

 

Ghost-spider pays their words no mind, but she does shift her attention to behind Harley, and on instinct he glances back. 

 

“I see you made some friends.” Tony says, a picture-ready smile on his face. “Guess I don’t need to introduce you to this crew,” He looks up at Ghost, “I’m glad you could make this, by the way. Underoos said you were indisposed .”

 

Her suit’s eyes widen, but it's almost like she shrinks back. “Yeah, I had a run-in with that Goblin-guy that's been all over the papers. I debriefed with Friday when I got to central and Karen sent over all related footage. Luckily, Mrs Parker was at Central , so I was all fixed up in no time.” She smiled through the mask, but Harley had already stiffened beside Tony, subconsciously and at the mention of the ‘Goblin’. He knew what the media was saying and knew who that referred to.

 

A phantom pain started up in his leg and he pretended not to feel it. Tony put a hand on his shoulder. “May was there?” Tony asks, in lieu of moving the conversation.

 

“Yeah. I’m not sure why, though. I thought she was normally on call, but I didn’t see anyone else.”

 

Harley doesn’t see the expression on Tony’s face, but given how his grip twitches back for a second or two, there's definitely something he's missing. He doesn’t question it, though. He really doesn’t want to hear anymore Avengers business if it's any similar to what he's seen in the paper. “Well okay,” He says in finality, “I’m gonna steal Harley from you,” Harley glances to where Deadpool was, to find him missing. “But I hope you enjoy the party, Casper.”

 

Ghost groaned. “I think that's the worst one yet, actually. I definitely preferred Scream Queen .”

 

“That's the fun thing about nicknames, Fantasma, they’re not normally made by the user. They’re gifted.” There was a smile in Tony’s voice, but before anything more could be said, Harley was being walked away by the older hero. 

 

He hadn’t noticed before, but the party was in full swing. The music went from casual lobby jazz to something vaguely akin to Mozart, all live of course. When he flicked his gaze backward, Tony still had his mask fixated onto his face. They walked through crowds of people, talking and laughing as if catching up, and given the groups in attendance that probably wasn’t far from the truth. It was loud, but Harley chose not to focus on that for the time being, instead onto the music. 

 

“So, in ten minutes or so, they’re going to address the crowd, saying the ball is now in full swing. But, before that, Rogers’, his merry men, and King T’challa want to meet you.” He doesn’t sound too fond about the idea. “They’ll be the first of the night, but it's all just formality, and not the full team. Rhodey, Pepper, Vision, and the Spiderling will be there too.”

 

Tony leads him across the room and into a side door, into what looked more like a regency sitting room if Sense and Sensibility was anything to go by. The aforementioned were already inside, though on the three couches, only Spider-man and Rhodey were sitting. Pepper was beside them, behind the couch, and everyone else was in a mix of talking and waiting around. There was a table at the back with a few snacks, with chairs and couches around. All of it fit into a specific gold-coloured aesthetic, with dark wooden accents and a wallpaper of flowers stemming from gold with a pale blue background. Ruffled curtains not used for windows, rather above a studio piano and each of the doors. The dark wooden trim gave way unto an ornate ceiling with golden metal accents and a similarly golden chandelier. 

 

Everyone seemed to stop when Harley entered the room, like a scene from some sort of movie, but he should’ve guessed it’d happen given Tony said they were waiting for him .

 

The Black Widow was the first to straighten, turning her whole body to look at him and giving a polite smile. She looked kind enough, but Harley knew he was being analyzed. She took a few strides forward, before stopping in front of him and bringing up her hand. “You must be Harley; Tony’s told us about you. My name is Natasha,”

After a second, he shook her hand back. “Nice to meet you, Miss Natasha.”

 

Something about her smile changed and he couldn’t quite tell what it was, but the corners of her eyes subtly creased as well and she replied. “It's nice to meet you too.”

She was the first, but not far after the rest of the room introduced themselves. Steve, Clint, Sam, Scott, Wanda, and King T’challa. Sergeant Barnes wasn't there, but the news had been saying he was currently in New York after the Rogue’s pardon. Harley didn't ask about it. But, he’d probably later ask where Bruce is, since he and Thor are the only people gone from the small group. He’d met Bruce once in passing while he was out of commission, but that was for a retrieval of vitals and labs, he hasn't heard back since.

 

Spider-man gave him a half wave, with a small “ We met, but hi. ”, and Rhodey hugged him, having not seen him for the time after he was out of commission. And, when introductions were over, he stood beside Pepper, her arm around his shoulder as if to ground them both. 

 

“It's nice to put a face to the name. Tony used to talk about you a lot after the whole Mandarin thing.” Natasha says, tilting her head with the weird sort of smile still on her face. “You're really smart.”

 

Harley’s face feels like it heats up at the complement, and he doesn't know if it actually does, but Tony is the one to speak up. “His name is already on a few patents for Stark Tech.” he brags, “And he's going to Socrates this year.”

 

The school’s name seems to register for Natasha, as she raises an impressed brow, but he can't see past the other’s masks to gauge their reaction.”So he's that kind of smart.” She says, not elaborating while Tony hums in agreement. He knows Natasha was on Tony’s side for most of the fighting in Germany, and she had nothing to do with what happened after -- though he doesn’t know much about that in the first place, other than Steve, Tony, and Sargent Barnes getting into another fight.

 

“Tony’s exaggerating, I just like working on cars and he thinks it's somethin’.” Harley shrugs off, because the facts are true to him. He isn’t anything special, he's sure if any kid took the time to read the same library books he did and look at an engine for an hour, they’d be able to figure the same things out. 

 

“He rebuilt a V8 engine with Arc-reactor technology and added a modified supercharger for a 1996 Corvette. That was the year after I met him.” Tony brags, and Harley rolls his eyes like the teenager he is. Tony had basically walked him through building the reactor with a small piece of Badassium he’d sent, and the engine was sort of primitive — not that he’d ever say that in front of Tony, given his love for the things. Adding the supercharger was easy, so easy in fact he could probably find a tutorial online with 2014 branded montage music. 

 

That being said, Captain America’s mouth dropped and the Falcon huffed in amusement. “Tony, where do you keep finding these kids?” Sam asked jovially. “You and Webs are, like, borderline genius.”

 

“He broke into my garage.” Harley smiled, knowing Tony enough to know he was grimacing simultaneously. He didn’t exactly like being reminded of breaking and entering, but it was kind of funny.

 

“You know, I can’t say I’m surprised.” Spidey said from in front of him.

 

“Oh hush, Underoos.”

 

Pepper’s grip tightened marginally as Steve took a cautious step forward. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “I’m- you seem to be feeling better, I saw you during the attack a few weeks ago.” 

 

He sounds somewhat sheepish, but concerned, genuine, and thoughtful at the same time. Harley didn't know how to feel about it; the small voice in the back of his head was timid, he didn't share a similar sentiment. But, as a passing thought, he wondered if he should be playing up his injuries since he's supposed to be human. “It wasn't too bad to begin with, I’m lucky.” He decides on saying.

 

Steve smiled softly, so much so Harley almost thought it out of place until Pepper’s hand loosened and he could hear the sound of relinquished tension in a let out sigh. “I’m glad.” A pause, then his expression turned into something more teasing as he glanced towards Tony, who took a seat beside Spider-man. “A lot of the team was worried about you,”

 

There's a joke that he can't quite read, but he sees the side of Tony’s face pull up into a smile and a few people around the room seem somewhat amused. He doesn't know what it means, he doesn't ask for the sake of being polite in front of these very powerful people. 

 

Luckily, there's a knock on  the door, and without another moment, in walks a woman with long brown hair and a floor-length dress in purple silk. It has a slit on the side and off the shoulder sleeves, and a single black gemstone to turn the neckline sweetheart. She's not wearing a mask, but an asymmetrical swan mask in black metal is attached to a wooden rod she's holding. She immediately looks to Pepper.

 

Harley can feel her gaze, it's intense, but Pepper doesn't shrink back.

 

“I hope I’m not interrupting too much,” She says with sincere curtness, “But Mr Rogers, King T’challa, and Tony need to be on stage when the welcome announcement is made -- and Secretary Kingston is getting a little antsy.” She seems apologetic enough, and those in question move without preamble. Pepper says in a hushed tone how she’ll ‘see Tony out there’, while Steve says something along the lines of ‘It was nice meeting you’ towards Harley.

 

Not before long, everyone is cleared out, save for Rhodey and Pepper, Spider-man being the last to leave, and Pepper turns to hug him tight and kisses his hair -- she's wearing heels and is only just barely his height, so she has to pull his head down first. “I will never envy Tony for having to deal with them. The tension is palpable.”

 

Rhodey laughs as he stands from the couch, and agrees with her. “Yeah. I'm lucky to be in the capital during debrief.”

 

It's a moment that he can't quite place. Pepper is a constant of cold hard C.E.O. around most people, and he hadn’t often been around her and Rhodey much ever since he's normally busy with work. But Rhodey being here and Pepper being herself makes a warmth bubble and pop in his chest is like hot tar, and it's engulfing all the same. It's the same feeling when he and Abby are talking about stupid shit in the dining room, while their Ma makes dinner in the adjoining kitchen -- visible through the kitchen hole. The little voice in the back of his head is preening in contentment, and he feels a small jolt of energy.

 

“We should go,” Harley says, not moving from Pepper’s side. “Party’s gonna start. Tony says we gotta meet diplomats ‘nd shit.”

 

Rhodey laughs at his wording, while Pepper smiles and agrees. They leave the room, Harley still at her side, and Rhodey right with them. They meet back with Tony not long after the announcement is made, and they start on meeting the near-hundred people wanting to see ‘Stark’s new protege’. There are actually only two diplomats, by definition, and both are Wakandan. Everyone else they talk to is either a United States government official, people so rich that a single wave of their hand would have an effect on the economy, and other random heroes that didn’t meet him in the room. Susan Storm and Reed Richards, some political candidate Harley couldn’t care less about, Jessica Jones and the Iron Fist -- Miss Jones apparently being the woman in blue from before -- and so many others who, after a while, their faces started blending together. 

 

When he mentioned that last part to Pepper, she just laughed and said ‘ You’ll get used to it .’

 

He only found a few meetings remotely interesting, Mrs Bishop and her daughter seemed interesting enough -- Kate was his age and immediately asked him if he wore ‘cowboy boots’ in Rose Hill, and he blanched while trying to figure out how she knew was from Rose Hill. Johnny Storm, who asked for his number with his arm already wrapped around what was probably a model, if last few months’ tabloids were anything to go by. Re-meeting Miss Paige and Mr Nelson, who were apparently some of S.I.’s finest outsources. Miss Paige was a writer and if they wanted to get the best information out about their press conferences or for some good-old Public Relations articles, she wrote for them. Mr Nelson was a lawyer who had worked with her once, and he ran a firm with another person, Mr Murdock, who couldn’t make it to the ball.

 

Tony, ever tactfully, added on how they worked on Avengers-related cases mostly, and were the ones to help write the Vigilante clauses for the new hero laws. Those had been worked on for the last few months, before the return of the rogues and after the Fantastic Four made their debut. They’d only just gone public after the battle with Thanos, and congressional voters were more likely to agree after said Vigilantes helped in the fight. 

 

From what he knew, the United Nations was still mulling over agreements, but for now the United States had laws to protect most vigilantes as long as they’re not breaking other laws -- and a hero vouched for them.

 

Mr Nelson was bashful while insisting his business partner did most of the work, and through that conversation Daredevil and The Punisher weasled their way in, as if they’d been there the whole time. Punisher was wearing an all black suit, though his body language sort of indicated he didn’t like that he was, and a small skull pin on his lapel. He didn’t have a mask on.

 

He was so ready to geek out some of The Punisher’s technology, since according to Tony, the man modifies it to work ever so better, but the man makes a joke about how Miss Paige’s article for the night is looking and he stands in attention. Only Pepper and Daredevil notice, if the reappearance of Pepper’s hand on his shoulder and the vigilante’s nearly inaudible amused huff is anything to go by.

 

“All good so far,” Miss Paige gestures to the venue and people, “This is probably the party of the year, if not the whole decade. Better that the announcements will all happen here than at a stuffy conference.” The way she speaks is almost as if she's distant, mentally figuring out what she’ll write, maybe. “Plus, this will give a great cushion for both Stark Industries’ tech release and the field introduction of The United Avengers .”

 

Halrey, logically, knows he’ll be mentioned in the article, and meeting Miss Paige in this setting is a formality -- it's what he thought when Tony brought up the article -- but another thing happily clouds those thoughts.

 

“ ‘ United Avengers ’ ? That's the name you chose?” He turns to Tony as he asks, though he can't see his full expression, he knows the man well enough to identify the hints of rightfully scrutinized defence in his tone. 

 

“It's the only name we could agree on.” Tony tries, not unlike a wet cat’s poor excuse of reasoning. “It was either that, or a general ‘World’s Mightiest Heroes’, but the Cap said that was ‘too pretentious’.” He scoffs, then under his breath says, “Coming from the guy named ‘Captain America’ .”

 

Harley inappropriately laughs at that, given he's sure he's the only one who could hear the comment with how softly it was spoken, but Daredevil cracks a smile as well. “It is kind of pretentious.” The Devil concedes, putting a hand up in an agreeing gesture. “But, most of New York’s Best are, as well, so it would even out.”

 

The way he talks is somewhat diplomatic and based on words alone, he half wonders if The Devil is even from New York. That, or he's a Reporter or something. Harley almost laughs at the prospect of Daredevil as a normal person, Clark Kent style.

 

“ See ! Even the damn Devil agrees!” Tony scoffs, nearly turning to find Steve then and there and then, but Pepper grabs his wrist and keeps him planted to the spot.

 

Conversations go in and out. Strange greets them, asks how Harley's doing, and it goes like one would expect. There's the Secretary of State who, not so subtly, implies that Harley has nefarious motives for moving in with Tony -- like becoming another Iron man or using his knowledge for leverage -- and Pepper is the one who just about chews him out for his comments. There's other dignitaries, Princess Shuri of Wakanda and her equerry, Charles Xavier and Rogue of the X-men, another reporter or two, and it goes on.

 

It feels like agony waiting for dinner, but eventually it's called and guests are brought to tables and Harley gets to sit down with Pepper and Tony with a perfectly made blue steak with a room set aside so that Harley could drink somewhere more private if the food wasn't enough.

 

They end up sharing a table with Mrs Bishop, her daughter, and Norman Osborn. Beside him is an empty seat, and one of the waiters asks where the younger Mr Osborn is. He doesn't really pay attention, but Tony looks amused at the fact Mr Osborn is sitting with them. He knows they used to work together, biotechnology, before Stark Industries was reworked from the ground up. 

 

Harley would half assume they were rivals, enemies, but Tony has the same look in his eye as when he's working on a project or finding out information he didn't already know -- something very rare for the egotistical billionaire. 

 

“Norman, it is lovely to see you again.” Tony says with a grin, offering his hand to the man beside him, over the empty chair that supposedly belongs to Osborn’s kid. 

 

Meanwhile Pepper slips easily into a conversation with Mrs Bishop, who is beside Norman. Kate and Harley are next to each other, while Pepper is on his left and sitting beside Tony on her right. 

 

Harley eats his food, mostly silent, puts Kate beside him tells him a story of something that happened in her Martial Arts Camp she just got out of, and he politely comments on it every few seconds. He's not really talkative at the moment, but she seems kind enough to not mention it and speeds through her rant. She's kind, and when she asks for his number to chat more, after the party and if he needs any help for school, he gives it to her. 

 

“You should look into their clubs when you can. They’re, like, a great way of getting to know people-- networking and all that.” Kate says, explaining with enthusiasm, but with a tone as if she's known him for years. “I’m in Archery, Around the World, and Chess club. Actually, Harry is in a few clubs with me-”

 

Someone sits down at the table as she speaks, the aforementioned Osborn kid. He had light brown hair, similar to Harley’s own, done up in styled curls, with a frowning thespian mask in gold obstructing his face. With that, a satin gold waistcoat over a black button down and slacks. He gives a small wave when he sits, and signals a waiter -- presumably for his meal. Harley, politely, looks away.

 

But, Kate is looking at him too, a smile on the unobstructed part of her face. “And speak of the devil- Hey, Harry! How’ve you been?”

 

Through the eye holes in the mask, exasperated, Harley can see Harry roll his eyes. He brings a hand up to his face and starts to remove his mask as he speaks. “Gwen has decided she wants me as an unofficial consultant for homecoming this year,” He says in lieu of answering.

 

The mask is taken off to reveal a resigned face, playfully painted, but something is familiar about him. Although he realizes only seconds later why , it's embarrassing to say he’d forgotten in the first place. He knew Kate goes to the school too, but he didn't really expect her to know the juxtaposed duo he’d met at the open house. 

 

“Really?” Kate seems genuinely shocked at that, and Harley can't say he knows either of them well enough to know why.  “You have, like, no creative bone in your body, compared to her.” 

 

Harry looks at her, deadpanned. “Thanks.”

 

“I mean-” Kate at least sounds a little apologetic, “It's Gwen . She’s, like, the Scene version of Elle Woods.” Then she says it as if both stagely to Harley and simply adding to the conversation.

 

Harry laughs, his expression dissipating. “She would love that comparison, I think.”

 

There's a small lull in the conversation, with the end being evident, but Kate quickly perks up again and taps her hand on the table a few times to get Harry’s attention. It does, but mostly because he's still looking at her. He raises a brow, and Kate puts a hand on Harley’s shoulder. 

 

“This is Harley, by the way. He's going to Socrates this year. He's staying with Mr Stark and Ms Potts, but he's from Tenassee,” Harley isn't sure he told her where she was from, but he ignores it for the time being.

 

He sees Harry’s eyes flash with recognition, and he gives a polite wave. Harley waves back. Kate seems happy that they met in the first place. “We’ve met, actually. But, I didn't know you knew Katie.”

 

From the corner of his eye, Kate grimaces at the nickname while Harry just smirks. “Tony introduced us.” He says. “He knew Mrs Bishop had a daughter and I’m new to the city.”

 

In the back of his mind, he doesn't really know how much he's allowed to say about the collab launch, but he isn't too keen on testing anything in front of Osborn’s kid. Tony may be somewhat friends with Mr Osborn, but Pepper always says talking to other companies is almost as bad as talking to the press. 

 

“Of course. Well, if you ever want more company, Katie can give you my number. Gwen probably won't mind either- she was the girl sitting beside me at the open house. Actually-” He turns to Kate, “He could totally be added to our group chat. The study one- If you wanna introduce him to our friends.”

 

Kate nearly cuts Harry off with how short the time between his sentence ended and hers started was. “It's, like, not actually for studying, tee-be-ayche , it's just memes and stuff. But, we do sometimes meet for study groups when midterms come up.”

 

“Uh, okay.” Harley awkwardly agrees. It was all very forward. He takes out his phone and goes to open messages, before Kate cuts in.

 

“It's on messenger, I kinda just assumed you had it. Do you?” She waves her phone slightly, showing the screen to be what he assumes to be the aforementioned despite the blurry shaking. 

 

Harley nods. 

 

They exchange contact information, friending via facebook and her adding Harley to the chat, while Harry says he’ll tell the others he's joining. Absent-mindedly, he wonders who the ‘others’ are. When he’s added, he decides to look at the person list, and when all he's met with is nicknames, he resolves to ask. “So, who all is in this?”

 

The list says badtz-maru , nerdiest , MJ , kuromi , Heath Burns , real cicada 3301 , hawkshot , and himself. To say he was confused would be an understatement.

 

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Gwen made up most of the names.” Harry said apologetically, “I’m Badtz-maru and Katie is Oliver Queen.”

 

Kate perked up, “Actually, I’m ‘Hawkshot’ now. Gwen told me she didn’t like The Arrow after reading the comics or something, so…!” 

 

The rest of the night was pretty blurry after that. Not in the face of mentality but rather the fact that Harley kept alongside Kate, and by extension Harry. Dinner was fine, being pulled away a few times to meet more people was exhausting, but every so often he’d open the group chat he’d been added into. A few members had introduced themselves to him and he could say fully that the group seemed fun, if not a few members a little overexcitable. Fun , though.

 

When he was smiling at his phone in the car, on their way back home, Tony made to him a passing comment about being glad he already found some friends his age.

 

♡

 

When Tony got home, he was a little tired. He didn’t really do parties like that anymore, so it was all a bit taxing. Pepper was kind enough to get Harley a drink and help him when they got back, while Tony asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to close down his workshop while he moved to sit on the workbench before his supposed standing desk. 

 

He removed his tie, set it aside, and tapped his chest twice to callback the helmet pieces. He didn’t take off the reactor, sitting just beneath his clothes.

 

The night brought up his feelings around Thanos and the entire situation. Not to mention, the fear of something possibly happening during or right after the party -- because it's all happened before. He could never forgive himself for Ultron, despite being a little too prideful to admit it to anyone but Pepper.

 

And then there was Harley, tangled with a  new sort of fear. 

 

When he heard about what happened, he was rightfully worried, and that was only extended by Thanos’ attack. He wanted to help this kid he saw as a son, and so he promised Ms Keener he’d help him. The boy looked five seconds from dilapidated and all too pale when he arrived, so he brought him to Strange and got him all the help he could ask for. Accommodated foods and had a fridge stocked with blood, just for the kid to get badly injured while walking past Central Park.

 

Tony’s guilt was unparalleled. “Friday, bring up Mark forty-seven one.”

 

“ Right away, Boss .”

 

Mark 47.1 , silver replacing gold, with an adamantium alloy and vibranium guards -- the latter metal gifted by the King of Wakanda, himself. The red was less hot rod and more carmine. More red stripes around the body, outlining different plates. An Arc Reactor in the middle, hidden behind a stained glass design of a rose, with lab grown coloured sapphire in place of glass to up durability.

 

It was intricate, something he’d spent a lot of time on. It was one of the few armors he kept at the new house. Extras of his own, if not already blown to pieces from fighting A.I.M., were kept at the Avengers Compound upstate. He usually had three of his own in house, his most recent project, his latest working model, and one Iron Legion sentry. But, that wasn’t all of them. 

 

He had a few extra suits, not particularly his but ones he made for his loved ones. The rescue armour, blue painted with full adamantium. Gold accents and nanobots that are programmed far beyond what his own suit can do. It was for Pepper, though he hoped she’d never use it. She knows about it, he showed it to her soon after they got engaged. 

 

But, a newer addition to the set was Mark 47.1 , made for Harley. It was similar to the original Mark47 design, with the addition of Iron Legon control, a personal A.I., both security measures and offensive measures. All on the off chance Harley would need to be protected, and wanted to fight back. Harley isn’t like Pepper. Pepper would rather not fight at all, she’d rather them live in a nice cabin upstate and stay away from all the hero work, but Harley was.

 

Harley had asked him about making a suit, when the kid was fourteen and had just finished making a small robot dog for Abby, out of a roomba he found at a thrift store. He said it might be fun to make something like it.

 

Except that was barely a few weeks after being stuck in the serbian cold, and he shut the idea down immediately. Just like he did with Peter.

 

He realized that things are far more complicated than they ever start with, and bringing Peter into the mess was a stupid idea. He imagined Harley doing what Peter was, going out every night, fighting until he was all banged up or being stuck in the cold while his body was going into shock-- don’t think of the alps -- he panicked. 

 

Taking away Peter’s suit was checked on a list of Tony’s greatest mistakes. And he was never one to make the same mistake twice.

So, Mark 47.1 . He knew teenagers- he knew Harley. He and Peter acted eerily similar when it came to that strong willed overconfidence and hardheadedness. If Harley wanted to fight, he wasn’t going to keep him from it. He’d make sure his kid was most protected while he did so, and train him if he asked. It's an inadvertent promise he intends to keep.

Notes:

okay so like i didn't add the feminization tag cause im pretty sure its mostly used for kink and not just casual clothes, plus its harley's style rather than just something abby insists he wear -- kinda like androgynous models? if that makes sense? -- but harley doesn't keep to specifically masculine clothing. trust its plot relevant lol.
also, i realized i put the necklace in the chapter before and when i get a chance will put it on this one- oops.

aNYWAYS. some of my favourite characters are in this chapter and im so happy to post it. if anyone has any questions about the fic, please feel free to ask me on tumblr!! @th3sungod

Chapter 4: I Broke All My Bones That Day I Found You

Summary:

There's no doubt she noticed the blood beneath the blazer, with how she's hesitant while looking directly at Harley, but she doesn’t glance down. She plasters an assuring expression, handing Tony the coats, and cupping his face as if to search for injuries. “Are you okay? Tony walked out so quickly and barely said anything.”

Worry laces her tone, and his head clears when he takes a breath in. The smell is less potent away from the puddle. “I’m fine. It's not my blood.”

Notes:

i did forewarn about this chapter being late, but i /didn't/ anticipate getting a concussion a few days ago, so i've barely been able to look at a screen. that being said, this is definitely the last chapter that has a set relese date ( even if it fell thru ), and the updates will be slowing down since it'll be whatever time it takes me to write. i hope yall enjoy this chapter!

TWs: blood, injury, disassociation

The first day of school was fine . 

 

It wasn’t extraordinary, but it wasn’t completely awful. Kate met with him outside the front entrance and they walked in together. She introduced him to everyone she knew, offered to walk him to the dining hall -- though he politely declined, saying he’d already eaten --, and helped him find his seat in Homeroom before she had to leave to her own. 

 

Since he didn’t eat with others, he was one of very few students in the room otherwise, so he’d messaged Abby a discrete photo of the classroom, wishing them both well, and opted to scroll on his phone until class started. He didn’t need a pen and paper out, like he’d need back home on your first day, since his teachers had apparently sent out a preliminary list that Tony had made sure he picked his items for. Everything was a shade of yellow that honestly reminded Harley of a CAT construction vehicle, he didn’t quite mind it though, since it paired well with black -- his backpack was black, which is all that really mattered. 

 

The homeroom teacher he’d met at the Open House was sitting behind his desk, setting something up on the projector screen while not paying attention to the students shuffling in and out. His classroom seemed cool, based on looks alone he’d assume the guy was an advanced science teacher. The extent of decorations was fake greenery hanging from the ceiling’s edges, real potted plants, and flexible seating besides the main twenty-something desks. It was a pretty big classroom.

 

Gwen and Harry walked in closer to the time of the bell, both sitting not too far away from Harley, but he didn’t pay much mind to them. When the bell rang, Harley looked up from his phone and the teacher looked up from his desk before standing, addressing the room. 

 

“Good morning, Students. Glad to see you all in, this early, but luckily we have an extra-long homeroom, so that should at least give you a breather before the day starts.” He kind of spoke the way most teachers did when trying to connect with people twenty years younger than them, a little stagnant and slightly disconnected. He shifted his round glasses on his face and gave a smile, “My name is Doctor Octavious. I know some of you had me last year, but for those who don’t know me, I teach Biomechanics and Introduction to Particle Physics -- and my classroom is open for Lunch A, for tutoring.”

 

The front board proves his words. He kind of drones on, explaining how the day isn’t like most, and how tomorrow they’ll do the same in the sense of scheduling, before applying their regular homeroom timeslot. He takes attendance -- when he calls Harley’s name, Gwen and Harry look up at him and wave -- before talking about allotted club periods and open after school activities. 

 

About halfway through the period, he waves and says that as long as they're quiet, they can have the rest of the time free and he stalks over to his desk. Harley didn't seem to notice before, but there's a glass tank beside him with more greenery inside. He can't see what's in it, though.

 

Just as everyone is given free time, Harley moves to open his phone -- he sees a few other student's have theirs out, so he doesn't think it's disallowed -- but before he can even unlock it, there's a figure beside his desk.

 

“Oh my god, I love your nails!” Gwen’s voice gushes. He glances up and sees her standing beside Harry, smiling. Her hair is styled similarly to how it was at the open house, but drawn back in a more tamed ponytail and black bow. She's wearing mostly black, a short princess-sleeve button down in silk, with a purple and black plaid maxi skirt. Its paired alongside old-looking mary janes, white socks, mesh stockings, and two wristbands that look like simple silver cuffs. “I know we’ve sort of met before-- and you’re now in the study group chat-- but I’m Gwen.” 

 

She holds out a hand, and Harley shakes it. “Harley,” He responds politely. “And, Thanks. My sister picked out the style.” 

 

“They’re really nice; Did you get them done for the Masquerade?” she pauses, then almost rushes in saying, “The pictures were all over social media.”

 

He doesn’t question the quick addition, replying anyway. “Yeah, I did. Were you there?” He asks earnestly, despite not knowing if that’d be impolite or not. He knew the party was for the generalized ‘elite’, but with how close she seems to Harry, he kind of assumes she’d be apart of that.

 

“Oh, yeah, no .” She laughs, with a backing of something Harley can’t quite pin, “I- ah , stayed in.” Her smile seemed a little sheepish. “I heard it was pretty fun, though! A ton of vigilanties were there, which is super cool, isn’t it?”

 

“It is.” He agreed easily, “I got to talk to The Daredevil and I swear he just acts like a weirdly normal guy -- kinda talks like a reporter, though. Journalist or something, definitely.” Harley spoke to life his thoughts from the night before, indulging in more awed conversation. He couldn’t imagine speaking about superheroes to Tony or Pepper, and Abby didn’t seem to understand how odd it was. Like, yeah, superheroes definitely had real lives before, the whole, being superheroes--but less than a year ago, Daredevil was known in most online communities as a cryptid vigilante that might have not actually existed. 

 

Gwen laughed, “Really? The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen being a reporter? Thats a half crazy thought, but funny as fuck.”

 

“Miss Stacy keep the language to a minimum , please.” Dr Octavious said from the front of the classroom. Gwen turned around and turned sheepish once more, muttering a sorry before turning back. The teacher didn’t seem all too upset, though. More exasperated.

 

“Wow, first day of the new year and you’re already getting told off? That’s gotta have been a new record, Gwendolyn.” Harry’s tone was even, but there was a smile on his face and amusement plastered like a tell. 

 

Gwen, promptly, elbowed him in the stomach, playfully of course. “Ignore him,” She told Harley, next to conspiratorially, “He thinks it's funny that I get told off for cursing more than he does -- even though he's arguably worse than I am.” She acted somewhat exasperated by the whole ordeal, but the undercurrent of amusement didn’t go unfound. 

 

Harry put a hand to his chest, still with a more level tone. Dry humour was clearly his better forte. “I’m hurt, truly.”

 

By some means of serendipitous luck, Harry and Gwen made quick friends with him. Gwen was kind of like a pomeranian, happy all the time but snapped at some jackass in the hallway who made a distasteful ‘joke’ about her style, while Harry was a silent sort of friend. His jokes were laced with pure sarcasm, but he was judicious and polite when it came to speaking with teachers and such. He was mostly quiet while Gwen was definitely more outgoing, and they seemed to come as a pair.

 

They both attended his first period with him, A.P. United States Government, but he was alone in Forensic Science. At lunch, he found Kate again, and she introduced him to some of her archery friends. After that was Spanish 4, alone, and programming with Gwen in his class. 

 

Before he knew it, the day was over. Gwen walked out with him, having been explaining the club fair happening the following week and how she was in ‘Around the World’ with Kate and another girl that Harry was close with -- “She's, like, totally into him and he likes her too, I’m pretty sure. So they’re basically just dancing around each other for the minute.”  Gwen had gossiped as she explained She wanted Harley to attend a pre-club fair meeting for Around the World, which was apparently just a club to learn about different cultures and eat different foods according to her, with the addition of an optional international trip. They were going to be having a ‘back to school’ party, which consisted of food, drinks, generalized hanging out, and watching unblocked eurovision performances on youtube. She pitched it as a great way to meet people, and was so overexcited about it that Harley found himself having said yes by the time he shuffled into the back of a sleek black B.M.W.

 

♡

 

The dinner after his first day was quaint, for the most part. When Harley had arrived home, he ended up drinking more than he anticipated, the buzzing behind his eyes having grown to a steady thrum despite drinking two cartons while at school. He knew he would be hungry, but he didn’t expect to have a meal-sized serving, especially since he ate before he left. 

 

He decided, then, that he’d start writing things down. He did have a mental list -- and half assed things in his notes app -- but he wasn’t exactly eager to divulge his blood drinking habits to Tony or Pepper, and the book from Strange had no would-be specifics. He had a small planner with a decently sized note section Tony had gotten him for school, but with F.R.I.D.A.Y. integrated into his phone and laptop, he didn’t really need it for such. So, he pulled it out, along with one of his smooth writing EnerGel pens, and wrote down whatever he could think of. The outcomes of his original tests -- the ones to make sure this wasn’t just some sick prank, and rather confirming this was more of a cosmic joke --, how different non-blood items tasted from best to worst, things he couldn’t stomach, things he weirdly could , and any small addition that could make his life easier. 

 

It wasn’t like the book Strange gave him. It didn’t have definitives and yes or no’s, it had the ‘things they don’t tell you’ side, or things he might’ve figured further than old vampires. It was a longshot, but Harley’s IQ rivaled Tony’s on the best days, and he was great at problem solving on any scale. By the time he was done with majority notes, he penned in the exact dates of everything to keep track of minute changes. Every moment mattered.

 

Harley set the notebook on his desk, faux leather bound and with a smaller weight lifted from his chest, before distracting himself with his phone before Pepper got home for dinner. 

 

Later, the restaurant was nice. You never really know what you’re missing before it's gone, and real food was something that Harley missed. His Ma made best with pig blood from the butcher, since he couldn’t seem to keep regular pork down. While they weren’t drowning, fresh red meat was a hot commodity and cost a pretty penny. Plus, nowhere in Rosehill had a nice enough restaurant to serve Blue-cooked steak, and if they did, somehow he could imagine ordering two with no sides would get around the rumour mill in the worst way. His mind flashes with the nicknames and jokes some folk would never let go. They weren’t trying to be mean at all, but he could go without the reputation. 

 

No one cared in New York. Carnivore diets and meat lovers were a big enough name to make his habits no cause for concern or correlation. Granted, the food wasn’t much filling and tasted wholly different to how it used to be, it was at the very least something he liked. It wasn’t like the blood he’d had, sweet and thick like the texture of mango juice, with the flavour of fresh honey or hibiscus nectar. No, steak still tasted somewhat like normal, but the addition of flavour seemed to enhance it. It was tangy like a citron fruit, with the usual meaty body and cooked flavour. Unlike how things were before, seasoning was a dampener, since the meat already tasted like it’d been smoking over citrus wood with an underbelly of brown sugar and pepper. 

 

Tony had ordered for Harley and Pepper and the waiter didn’t even blink at the order, which Harley was ever grateful for, before leaving to put in their orders. When she left, Harley sipped on his sweet tea, while Pepper was thoughtfully looking out the balcony window to their left, and Tony decided to break the silence.

 

“So, Harley, how was school today?” He asked, a little awkwardly Harley might add. His finger is tapping the side of his glass, a water and not his usual whiskey, and he doesn't seem to notice he's doing it. 

 

Harley doesn't think about the answer, giving up the automatic one he's taken to for years. “School was fine.” He shrugs and sips his tea again. When he looks up to meet Tony’s eyes, he realizes he should probably give a little more than that. “Uh, good, I mean. I think I joined a club, kind of , and Kate Bishop showed me around some.” He added, looking back down towards his drink and using the straw to mindlessly stir it. 

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like telling Tony how his day went, it's just that his Ma never did. She was too busy caring for their household or helping some of the older neighbours with whatever they needed. She was kind and the town liked her plenty, and Harley would be blind if he hadn’t noticed how they always seemed to look at Her, himself, and Abby with some sort of pitied expression. Rose Hill was only half a community, with sympathetic and pseudo offers of help and condolence. Whispers after Sunday church consisted of hot gossip and false niceties, while most children were none the wiser, with a powdered donut and cup of orange juice. 

 

They pitied Ma, but given those were the people she’d spent her life being told to respect and admire, she spent a lot of time trying to get back in their good graces. So, she wasn’t really home a whole lot. Sundays, of course, but for the last few years Harley had been the one to pick up Abby, ask the questions, and make sure she got her schoolwork done before their Ma came home exhausted but with dinner. 

 

He didn’t want to discredit his Ma’s abilities or anything, but it kind of scared him to think about how Abby was doing. She’d be making her own breakfast and packing her own lunch. She’d probably be the one sent to the grocery store with the only semblance of a ‘list’ to restock what she thought was missing from their cabinets. If she wanted to drive to Nashville for a day trip, which they normally managed once every month or so, she’d have to go with a friend or take the bus -- or simply stay in. The house would be quiet with no idle chatter or playful bickering.

 

Now, with Tony and Pepper acting like parents right out of an everyday movie, who offered more care than he knew what to do with, it left him with not knowing what to do, really. He sipped his tea again. 

 

“What do you mean ‘ kind of ’? What club?” Pepper asked, almost amused as if he wasn’t being clear -- which, granted he wasn’t, so it was completely understandable. Harley shrugged, if they wanted a story, he’ll oblige with complicated teenage life. Which, he knows for a fact Tony will get lost at least once during.

 

“So, basically, Harry -- Mr Osborn’s son from the ball -- and Kate are friends with this girl named Gwen -- or Gwendolyn, I dunno -- who’s apart of a culture's club. She’s in, like, some of my classes and durin’ last period when the teacher brought up how there's gonna be a club fair, she invited me to her club’s back to school party. Which, ain’t really for people not already in the club, but she’s one of the people in charge so she said I could come -- oh, that's afterschool thursday, by the way. Actually, Pep, you’ve seen her before. She and Harry where the ones handing out papers at the Open House, and she kind of looks like if Hot Topic was goin’ through a two-thousand eleven scene phase, but like in a good way and with a lot of purple and pink.” He explains with dramatic effects, noting how Pepper looks amused and Tony is actually hanging on every word he says. Tony looks genuinely happy to listen, and Harley doesn't exactly know why it makes his gut settle with something sick. His head, all the while, is filled with happy sort of sound coming from the little voice he tries to ignore most days.

 

“Oh I remember Gwen,” Pepper tells him, additionally. “I believe I know her father, and she's very particular in her style. She reminds me a lot of your sister, actually.”

 

Harley cocks his head, “You know her dad? From what?”

 

“He's the Police Captain at the ninth precinct. It's just beside ours, but the company buildings are zoned for it, so he's been on my contact list for a while.” She says with a smile, “We’d have introduced you at the ball, but he was busy that night. He's a good asset to have.” She doesn't expand on the word asset, and the feeling in his gut churns uncomfortably. Tony, thankfully, cuts in.

 

He grimaces. “I’m pretty sure the only reason he wasn't there is because he hates the old vigilanties with a passion. Spiderling and prince of darkness, especially.”

 

Was Harley being irrational when his first thought was, Does Gwen hate Spider-man too? He was less inclined to speak his thoughts, however, since his inner voice had a hint of concern and he was not about to be concerned about a literal superhero -- besides Tony. Affectionately, Tony was kind of a mess. He opted for a different question, “Prince of Darkness? Isn't that supposed to be Batman?”

 

Tony sighed dramatically. “You’d think . But, with how the man runs around in dramatics, I wouldn't be surprised if he called himself ‘the night’.” 

 

“He’s talking about Daredevil.” Pepper answered his question, a smile playing on her features with Tony’s antics. 

 

Harley hummed, slowly nodding at the information to show his understanding, while Tony waved the air -- as if to say, ‘ same thing ’. The waiter came back soon after with buttered bread, and reported their food was ‘on it’s way’, and the two adults politely thanked her before lapsing into conversation once more. Harley, however, was busy trying to reel in his expressions.

 

The warm butter smell was only an undercurrent, but something stunk up the area with a mix of chlorine and rot, assaulting his nose and making him want to gag. He felt like he was going to be sick, it was so strong. But, no one else seemed phased. The smell percolated the air, growing stronger as the buttered bread’s heat pushed it further. The small voice in the back of his mind made a sound not unlike a scoff, and somehow he knew in the moment this was undoubtedly related to what he was. The putrid smell made his nostrils flair and eyes water, it was dizzying.

He swallowed thickly, and without another thought, civilly excused himself for the restroom. He very nearly ran from the table.

 

Harley burst into the restroom, not noticing at first it’s emptiness and took in a long, gasping, breath. He pushed himself up against the door and slid down, hand going for his neck. It stopped at the necklace. 

 

The human part of his mind screamed to get it off, that he’ll breathe better after and threatened to reduce the nausea that clawed up his body. While the vampire side, and he just knew it was the vampire side, screeched loud enough for him to halt all actions. It was like a banshee’s battlecry, pounding in his head, and without thinking he brought his hand up to the door’s pseudo handle and locked it. The voice chittered in warning, mentally curling around the metalwork and diamonds, and it took him too long to realize he was also making that noise.

 

It was low, coming from the back of his throat and grounding him enough for him to breath away the smell clinging to his nostrils. He was still heaving, breaths coming in quick pants, but he could physically hear his heartbeat start to slow -- he hadn’t realized how fast it was -- and that started to ground him as well. The chittering was growing softer, calmer, and in a few short minutes he could finally breathe without his airways constricting. 

 

He shut his eyes tight, and tried to focus on breathing. His eyes glanced over the bathroom. Stalls along one side, urinals in a small secluded room that was visibly empty, and four sinks separated by an open false balcony. The night was visible through the open area, pocket doors open with a gate barely a foot past and keeping it mostly as decoration rather than a real balcony. 

 

Harley had never seen anything like it, which wasn’t saying a lot since New York was almost always showing him new things, but this was extra and definitely just a fancy restaurant type thing. The prospect of it was jarring enough to distract him out of his thoughts. Plus, the air seemed fresher in that direction, and eventually he found himself feeling somewhat better.

 

He moved onto his hands and stood, unlocking the door subconsciously when he was halfway up -- he didn’t need to be causing a commotion when people couldn’t open the door -- and curiously made his way to the balcony. The building wasn’t a skyscraper, but it was taller than the building beside it so Harley could look past and onto the street. It was on the side of a high rise, but from there he could see the three Stark Industries buildings in the distance in the way of the sun as it set. He took a calm, final breath, feeling a lot better than he did before. He didn’t know what happened, he didn’t know why he reacted so badly to the food’s smell, but when he contentedly hung his head, Harley caught another scent.

 

Familiar and sweet, but not very strong. It felt comforting, for a moment -- almost nostalgic in a way he couldn’t explain. Like a baked good, and at first he really didn’t think about it at first. It was like a baked good, almost, but something in it he couldn’t quite place.

With another breath, Harley wen’t stockstill when a familiar undercurrent of honey accompanied it at second inhale.

It was just enough to snap him out of his thoughts, and look around wildly at the area before him. The smell got stronger when he directed his attention down, and it didn’t take long to realize it was emanating off of something in the alley below. Someone . Red clad and very obviously bleeding out. Red and blue, specifically, and unmoving.

 

What the fuck?

 

Before he even realized what he was doing, Harley was out of the bathroom in a moment and back to the elevator that’d eject him at the bottom of the multi-use building. Through the lobby, a clothing store, and out a set of double doors, he went to the left and ducked into the alley. He didn’t exactly feel sick about being faced with blood and gore, but a worried pang shot through his chest and he grabbed his phone as he approached the figure,

 

The smell clogged his nose, not acrid, but like the overpowering smell of cookies and pastries in a bakery. It was still unpleasant in the thought that it was coming from a person, the sweet scent that overwhelmed him. The suit, different from before and looking more like the original he saw online, was this time covered in a lot more splotchy dark liquid that Harley really didn’t spend time thinking about the implications of. He needed medical attention. There was a knife sticking out of his hip and cuts along his leg and stomach, but after a moment of fully stilling himself he found the man was breathing. He called Tony, and it picked up after two rings. 

 

“ Hey kid- -” 

 

Harley cut him off before he could finish his sentence. If he had a second to think, definit swirling thought would have him wondering if calling Tony in times of distress like this, would end up being a common occurrence. He doesn’t have a moment, though, and the idea is left alongside his dinner that’s definitely waiting upstairs. Both, evidently, are forgotten.

 

“Spider-man needs medical attention, I found him outside in the alley next to the restaurant. I’m- I’m with him right now, but I don’t know what to do. He’s lost a lot of blood.” There's a pool just beneath Spidey’s hip wound, and it's glaringly huge. Somehow, Harley just knows he's probably bleeding from his backside as well, and without a knife to plug it.

 

He’s buzzing throughout the call, adrenaline crawling up his veins without his blood to mediate it, and he knows he sounds a little frantic. When he tries touching the hero’s wrist for a pulse, picking up his hand to do so, he notices how cold they are -- and that something is covering them so he moves to Spidey’s neck. It's about eighty degrees out, and so Harley’s core temperature is only a little below that. Spider-man feels worse than that. It scares him.

 

Moving to check his neck’s pulse, something slow and abnormal, he stares at the hero and the whites of his mask are opening. Spidey, ever the hero, looks up at Harley and blinks for a slow second. Harley is mostly clean of blood, beside the wrist of his white long sleeve, and his glasses are on so he knows he looks pretty normal. But then, the hero looks to himself, pulls the knife out of his hip as he slurs his words, “We should really stop meeting like this; ah you’re kinda like an angel . ” 

 

Harley doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or sob, it's all a lot right now. He does neither. Spidey sounds half delusional and Harley thinks he can hear his heart rate dropping rapidly. The idea that a half-dead man is in his grasp is terrifying, but the surrounding is like baked cherries for a pie filling, like the ones his Ma serves at the diner and it's too comforting. He tries not to breathe, that was something he thought was a thing, right? But everything is going downhill. Blood started to gush out of the wound the second the knife was out, and Spider-man was about to throw his head back onto the pavement -- from pain or exhaustion he didn't know -- and Harley moved as quick as he could to the hero’s upper half, kneeling as he cracked his shoulders with his hands as the head landed on his lap. He knew it must've been quicker than humanly possible, but Spidey didn’t seem to mind or notice. 

 

Spider-man whimpered, low in the back of his throat, but dropped the knife and pushed down on his injury. Harley soothingly shushed him, forcibly keeping his voice from wavering. “It's okay. Tony’s goin’ be here real soon.”

 

Harley had been good at comforting his little sister when she watched Tony on T.V. growing up. He was pretty good with littles, being one of the older kids in their small community back in Rose Hill and having been around for babysitting most of them from time to time. This wasn’t the same, the particles of smell clung to his nostrils and despite it being a sweet smelling thing, he knew humanly that too much blood loss normally meant death . But, with half his brain eerily tranquill -- something he understood only barely as an issue -- he could at least help keep Spider-man awake, aware, and try calming him down. He didn’t look at the pooling blood or focus on the skin that was colder than his own. Tony was coming downstairs, Tony would save him.

 

The hero groaned at verbal mention of the mechanic, and in any other situation Harley would quirk a brow and ask why. He was a charmer and once good with people; so much has changed. Either way, he didn’t have to wait and ask, Spidey using his other hand to rest across his suit’s eyes with a slight hiss before he spoke up.  “Mr Stark ‘s never g’na let me live this down.” 

 

He's conscious enough to talk, which was a good thing. Granted, calling that talking would be a little generous compared to very usual standards but this was not a usual situation. The words slurred together and said slow enough that the joking annoyance only slipped through with a half-pained breath he let out. Maybe he should keep him talking. 

 

“Do you get stabbed a lot?” He asked, almost trying for an amused incredulousness to lighten the air. The air that smelled something like the time he and Abby mashed the mysterious berries at the end of their property line, little round things that burst magenta and made her hands swell for a day -- that their Ma said weren’t elderberries. It might've been the wrong thing to ask, especially since he already half knew the answer to that. Tony always let stressed ramblings spill free while they tinkere over hologram calls in their own workshops.

 

“I try not to, it jus’ happens.” He sounds offended, yet with a petulant undertone. Then he seems to have a thought, moving his hand out of his eyes to squint at Harley. “Huh, ya’know, I thought you had red--”

 

“What the hell happened?” Tony’s hissing voice breaks through before Spidey can finish his sentence, and both heads snap up at the sight. He's rounded the corner and his suit is already forming on his figure, two Iron Legion drones landing behind him and walking together in stride. It's clear when he's gotten a good view of everything, blood seeped into Harley where he's been holding the web-slinger, every point of contact holding some sort of red. Spider-man’s own suit is battered and splotchy with the stuff, while an all too huge amount of blood pools around them. The younger hero has a hand on his hip, and it looks a little odd with how he's horizontally laying, but the white knuckled grip proves it to be another injury. 

 

Honestly the question causes Harley to realize he probably should have asked that question as well, but in his mind it was kind of an obvious ambiguousness. Spider-man got hurt while Spider-manning. He feels a weird sense of embarrassment, something he can’t exactly place the root of, when the idea flashes through his mind. He blames it on should’a, could’a, would’a ’s and tries shrugging it off. Spider-man speaks before he does. 

 

“A lead on that green guy.” He wines miserably, more as if he was annoyed and not bleeding out, and definitely not like he was unconscious minutes before. He shifts and hisses in pain. Tony is beside him in an instant, the two Iron Legion drones forming a sort of stretcher while one visibly scans him for injuries. “God, I hate birds.”

 

Harley doesn’t particularly know what that means, but it's possible Spidey suffered a head wound, so he doesn’t question it. His own mind is a bit slow in the moment, though. Cloudy, so there might just be something in the air physically, and he has to keep himself grounded. Thats, unfortunately, the wet stickiness of the blood on his hands and how he cradles Spidey’s head in his lap. He feels a little floaty, and he can almost see himself from a different perspective from the left, just observing the situation as a bystander as Tony goes to give him another instruction.

 

“Harley, can you lift his head up? I need to put him on the stretcher.”

 

He does as told, and Tony straps Spider-man in. He didn’t know the Iron Legion worked as field medics like this. A case forms around the hero’s still groaning form, glass on top but metal cording around the body -- kinda like Snow White’s glass coffin in Once . He has the thought, but pushes it out a moment later, Spider-man isn’t going to die or fall into a coma. He's okay, he's a hero. 

 

Tony stays behind a moment after, gaze following the cradle until it disappears behind a building. When it's gone, he looks at Harley, who in the moment seems to realize how he must look. There's blood on him, it's not his. His face is mostly expressionless and he feels more than pale, despite him knowing his complexion definitely hasn’t changed. The head of Tony’s armor melts away -- he didn’t realize before, but it is nanotech. It's a note that he mentally attaches his thoughts to, as if it’ll wipe everything else away.

Tony looks like he's studying Harley’s face for a moment, and Harley really doesn’t know why. His head is really starting to hurt though, and the air smells thickly of mashed berries and sweet citrus. “Are you okay?” Tony asks, unsure.

 

He thinks he is, besides the headache, but he doesn’t see how that’d be related. “Yeah.” It's close enough, but he still asks, “Why?”

It's not about the bloody scene, Harley’s seen that before. He’s fine, and the smell in the air he swears is grounding as he looks on from above himself. He’s known Tony for a long time, and Rose Hill became acquainted with gore early on. Civilian casualties after the water tower fell, broke the town for weeks, Tony paid for everything to be fixed but Harley went to every funeral. He saw Tony after missions and lived through his own hell less than a few months ago. Something flashes across Tony’s face, and even with years of familiarity Harley can’t make out what it is. Either way, it's gone in a moment. 

 

“Just making sure. You’re covered in blood, kid.” It's grim as he says it. 

 

Covered is a strong word, but Harley doesn’t correct him. Somehow, he doesn’t think that's the point.

 

His headache grows when he glances towards himself, the smell wafting, but he gives Tony a sheepish look. His clothes are definitely ruined, the white silk button down has blood stains closer to the bottom, where Spidey was, and his navy slacks have dark splotches all over. He didn’t even think about the staining before he moved to help. “Sorry,”

 

That doesn’t seem like the correct response; Tony’s face contorts into something confused again before he visibly moves on. “It’s fine. We should get going, though. Pepper’s probably having them pack up our food as we speak.” Harley blinks twice, remembering then about the food. It's not like he forgot, but his mind was elsewhere. He doesn’t know where. He should probably find out whatever it was that had the rancid smell, any changes would be something to keep note of. Plus, he’d never smelled something like that when he was human . Tony, unbeknownst to his thoughts, goes on, “The car should be here soon.”

 

Harley nods in understanding, and Tony seems to look at him for a moment longer before the rest of the suit melts away. The nanites merge with his belt, and in a few short strides he's beside Harley -- stepping over the drying blood. The older man shrugs off his own suit jacket and drapes it over Harley’s shoulders. The berry-like smell isn’t dampened, but Tony’s too expensive cologne almost shoos it away. It’s whiskey, vanilla, and tobacco scented and his nose screws up just a little. He doesn’t question how he can smell vanilla, since he knows it's one of the things he can't taste. But, either way, his headache starts to dull and he mutters a thanks to Tony, who leads him toward the alley’s entrance.

 

Like assured, Pepper is standing beside Happy’s Alfa Romeo Gulia -- newest model, in all black with too tinted windows -- while someone who looks like a maitre’d holding packaged food. Pepper is holding what seems to be her and Harley’s coats. When she sees them, her eyes go wide. Behind her, Happy steps out of the car and takes the boxes from the maitre’d. Pepper hurries her way over to the pair. 

 

There's no doubt she noticed the blood beneath the blazer, with how she's hesitant while looking directly at Harley, but she doesn’t glance down. She plasters an assuring expression, handing Tony the coats, and cupping his face as if to search for injuries. “Are you okay? Tony walked out so quickly and barely said anything.”

 

Worry laces her tone, and his head clears when he takes a breath in. The smell is less potent away from the puddle. “I’m fine. It's not my blood.”

 

Her face falls for a second, and Harley can’t reason why, but Tony cuts in. “He found the Spider-kid in the alley, hurt.” There's something he’s missing, but he can’t press a finger to it, yet, but Tony turns to him, brows furrowed. “Actually, why were you outside- how’d you know he needed help?” He seems genuinely curious.

 

“There's a balcony in the bathroom. I- uh,” Smelled something? That doesn’t exactly sound normal. “I thought I heard something and saw him.”

 

Tony thankfully takes that answer, and Pepper goes on to ask about Spider-man’s condition. The hero says he's being taken care of and will be fine. Between one blink and the next, Pepper had usurped them both into the car and Happy drove them home. When there, the two adults suggest he shower before they eat, and they'll set out the food in the dining room. 

 

When Harley’s underneath the hot water, his shoulders ease from tension and the smell gets burned away. He's thankful, cause it was starting to bother him. The overwhelming sweetness started to sour, he didn't know why, but it was grating.

 

It was nothing like the smell of the blood he’d got from Strange’s people, and he didn't know if that intrigued him or not. With his head clearer, he knew that wasn't exactly a socially acceptable thing to say. With a jolt, the small voice in the back of his head -- that’d been strangely quiet for a while -- sounded like it scoffed. Scoffed , as if being something akin to a disembodied voice wasn't enough.

 

After all the blood warped with water into the drain, Harley stepped out of the shower and made quick work of drying himself off and slinking into more comfortable clothes. He left the bloodied ones on his bathroom’s countertop, he didn't want to look at them. They still smelled like a fucked up cherry pie, and Harley didn't want to deal with that. If he sprayed himself with something to block the scent which clung to his nostrils, that was between him and god.

 

Harley walked down the stairs in soft flannel pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt that said ‘Every nite is emo nite’. When he sat, Tony made a joke about Harley going through a ‘teenage rebellious stage’ while Pepper had handed him his food, plated and warmed with a glass of sweet tea.

 

It was a little hard getting to bed that night, but after sneaking back down to the kitchen half past midnight for a snack, sleep took him laughably quick.

 

♡

 

Gwen pulling him into the French classroom the second the bell rang would've been alarming if he didn't already know where he was going.

 

“You're gonna love it!” She gushed, pushing passed the pool of students, holding Harley's hand with a vice-like grip. “Some of the away students are here-- we have, like, a joint school program if i didn't already mention -- and I haven't seen some of them all summer!”

 

The sound of so many people being in the club half amused Harley while simultaneously giving him momentary anxiety. His facially visible emotions, however, only seemed to elate Gwen further, but she did try to sound helpfully sympathetic as she spoke. “It's okay. it's some of the people from the group chat and some of their close friends, they're all good company, don't worry!”

 

Ah the group chat. Funnily enough, he’d gotten no more names out of the other occupants while in the time he messaged, and in turn had received random corny science memes from nerdiest at thee sun the morning, or morning messages from MJ about an ongoing tiger heist…? He didn't know, and when he asked Gwen, she smiled and said in the somberest tone he’d heard from her yet, “You really don't wanna know about The Tiger.”

 

Harley, smartly, dropped it.

 

When the door was shoved open, Harley was a little surprised when the room wasn't filled with party decorations or anything. Granted, school just got out and obviously it hadn't been set out yet, but he somehow assumed it would be. 

 

That being said, several people he assumed to be students were holding and shuffling through Party City bags and a ridiculously excessive cake was sitting on the front teacher’s desk. It was three tiered, a miniature version of an iconic wedding cake in looks; and said teacher was sitting behind it. 

 

It was actually sort of obvious which students weren't from Socrates. While everyone was pretty put together, but some kids looked much more casual in sneakers and jeans. It was quite the contrast to those looking like they just walked out of Sunday church, with high heels and loafers. 

 

A few people turned to stare at him when he entered, a girl with long brown curls and Harry who was standing beside her and Kate. Gwen, ever helpful, stood on her tiptoes to whisper in Harley’s ear, pointing at the girl with brown curls. “That's MJ, from the study group.”

 

MJ was still looking at them, so Harley waved politely and Gwen dragged him towards the small group. Harry had two confetti cannons in his hands, Kate had a bag of party favours, and MJ looked to be sketching. 

 

“Harley! Glad you could make it.” Harry greeted kindly, waving a hand with a confetti cannon. Gwen, silently, perked up at seeing it, and once Harry caught her eye, he handed them to her. 

 

Once again the two juxtaposed each other, but similarly complemented the other persons’ outfits. Harry, in a simple black suit and white shirt, with a silver necklace chain replacing a tie, a darkened magenta pocket square, and matching coloured loafers loafers; and Gwen in a black princess-sleeved blazer, magenta babydoll dress, with purple and magenta striped stockings -- it reminded Harley of the cheshire cat, if he were honest. But, it matched Harry, nonetheless. Did they plan that? “Oh course.” Harley replied. “Gwen was very convincing.”

 

Harry's eyes widened slightly, “She didn't threaten you, did she?”

 

MJ snorted, Harley rose a brow. “No..? Does she.. do that often?”

 

Gwen let out an annoyed huff, and MJ laughed more. Harry simply leveled him with a look, before the girl in question waved the conversation away with a hand. “That's besides the point. I’m an angel and would never do anything wrong.” She lied with a smile, while someone behind them scoffed. When Harley swiveled around to get a look at the new voice, he was a little shocked to see it was someone he recognized.

“Tell that to Betty- you know, I think she's still scared after what you did to Flash, last year.”

 

Tony’s personal intern; Peter, was it?. The kid with brown loose curls and huge ass doe eyes . He had a light, teasing expression painted on his features and was holding a sizably large globe with push pins in it. When his eyes landed on Harley, his eyes brightened. “Oh, hey, Harley!” 

 

He’d taken a hand away from the globe to wave, but it grew off balance and he fumbled. It didn’t end up dropping, though. Harley couldn’t help but let out a laugh when he waved back. Peter was kinda dorky, but seemed sweet. He kind of felt bad for not talking to him more when he’d come over -- though then again, he didn’t come over for him. 

 

“Oh, you two’ve met?” Kate asked, he hadn’t noticed but she must have walked away at one point. She was no longer holding the party favours and a quick glance around the classroom showed they were set up in different places. 

 

Harley nodded, while Peter answered the question. Suddenly, he sounded sheepish. “Uh- yeah.  I had something for Mr Stark and went over to his place to drop it off,” He explained, “Harley is, like, his kid and I’d met him when I was there.”

 

Harley turned back to the small group, and Gwen was looking on as if she was trying to remember something while the others had understanding plastered on their expressions. MJ, thank her soul, changed the conversation, having been rightfully done with the last. “So, Harley, where are you from?”

 

“Tenassee,” He answered, “A real small town called Rose Hill.” He flashes a smile, sweet southern charm drilled into him like an unreasonably long screw. He lets his accent coat his words, thicker than usual though they don’t have to know that, and the twang doesn't go unnoticed.

 

MJ raises her eyebrows, something challenging. “Ah, a southerner. So, what, you like Luke Bryan ?”

 

“I prefer Miranda Lambert , actually.” Harley admits, not untruthfully. Though, he can’t lie in saying he knows some songs by the former. But, something flashes over her expression and turns into amusement -- as if it was a test he’d passed. 

 

She hummed, “You joining the club, then?”

 

To be completely honest, Harley hadn’t put too much thought on it. He’d spent the last few days more on the fact he saw a bleeding hero and wondering on the guy’s condition -- and with school as a distraction he’d been able to at least keep his mind racing. Thinking of lots of things so he didn’t stop, nothing that mattered, but lots nonetheless. Just at the minute reminder, he tried not to envision the blood on his pant legs and the cherry smelling blood. He especially tried not to wonder about how that train of thought ended up reminding him to drink the little carton of blood in his bag, just as soon as he was able. He swallowed saliva, despite that not being much of a normal thing anymore, for him.

 

“Yeah,” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, might as well- this seems like the place to be, ain’ it?”

 

Gwen looked like she was about to respond, a devious smile playing on her features, before two other students appeared from behind her and started dragging her away, all in good fun, while speaking something about the party plans. She’d originally jolted when they clapped their hands on her shoulders, but groaned and sighed as she was literally pulled into a different conversation about the party. It seemed like everyone realized then they were just standing around, and started to shuffle around with the items they had in hand. 

 

Harley didn’t exactly know what to do, standing there alone now that Gwen was otherwise occupied. Shrugging off his backpack to the side, he pulled out the last juice box from his insulated lunch bag. Equally, he zipped it all back up and set his backpack to the side where others were. 

 

He stood there for a moment, out of place despite his earlier sentiment, and sipping on a false juice box. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander, in the moment with nothing to do while drinking. A gnawing unease accompanied as his mind, admittedly, thought back to the smells of that night. He’d told Tony about the original weird smell coming from the food, something he’d never experienced before, but had kept the latter scent from him -- besides the simple fact he could smell it in the first place. But it was so different than everything else. Cherry was the best descriptor of the smell, but it was so much more than that.

It was like berries with underlying citrus, like a fresh baked pie with a hint of lemon. Maybe sweet like tomatoes, mixed with something floral he couldn’t place. It still had the honey and nectar scent, but coupled in with everything else.  

 

What would it tas- -

 

“Harley! Would you mind helping Peter?” Harry’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, “He’s going to get a few drinks from downstairs but probably won’t have hands free to open any doors.” The teen spoke, faux exasperation poking through, as if it was a slight against him that Peter needed help. 

 

Harley, being the person he was, nodded in understanding. “Of course.” 

 

Peter was beside Harry, both having walked over, and the latter smiled, patting Peter’s back before going back to whatever he was doing. Harley, nonplussed about being asked for help, turned to Peter with his body language open and asking what to do. Peter seemed nice enough, and somehow Harley could half guess him as one of the group chat members. If he had any ideas as to what half the names meant, he could try his hand at guessing, but it would be a slow and assumably tedious process of understanding all the references. 

 

He’d messaged in it, sure, but names weren’t often used and Kate nor Harry had originally told him who the members were. Gwen had told him earlier in the day he’d be getting one soon, in a slightly terrifying way and all Harley could do was nod dumbly. It sounded kind of cult-y but he wasn’t about to complain to these lovely people who adopted him into their group so willingly.

 

“Follow me,” Peter jerked his head towards the door. The blond nodded and followed when he started walking, “It's all in the multipurpose room- we had stayed in there for a few minutes before school ended.” He spoke in lieu of explanation.

Taking a sip from the juice box, Harley hummed in understanding, amusing polite conversation. “Does your school end earlier, then?” 

“By, like, thirty minutes- yeah. It’s a charter school in Queens, ‘has the best acadec team in the country.” Peter said with a smirk, throwing a glance back to Harley as they descended the stairs. And, Harley wasn’t an idiot, competition was definitely lacing the other boy’s tone, and the glance was playful if anything. He knew, immediately, that this topic was definitely arguable at best. 

 

He raised a brow, “Oh really? I ’ave an odd feeling that ain’t true.” 

 

See, one thing to know about Harley Keener was that his loyalties could most definitely be swayed with sweet words and/or spite, at any given moment. He may have not been at Socrates for long, and he barely knew anything about whatever ‘acadec’ was, but this was a set up for competition and Harley was nothing if not a winner. If Peter wanted to set him up with an opposing set of loyalties -- inadvertently or otherwise -- how could Harley refuse?

 

“I’m always truthful. Basically Aletheia with how truthful I am--” His smile goes a little more genuine, still laced with amused playfulness to prove he's lying through his teeth, “Listen, you're new to Socrates, and you’ve probably heard so much from the others already, and I’m just trying to give you a different -- but still honest! -- perspective.”

 

“Oh really? Like what?” Harley indulges, interested in what he’d possibly come up with. 

 

Peter splays his hands out as a sort of ‘ and get this! ’ motion, palms out and fingers spread. “ Like , we didn’t lose a single tournament last year, while this school lost three -- which is a lot more than zero.” He says matter-of-fact-ly. “And, our team is sponsored by the best tech companies in New York -- or in the United States, for that matter.”

 

It takes Harley a second for him to realize what company that could be; and when he does, he throws his head back and laughs, once. “If I had a penny for everytime Tony sponsored something to do with young ‘innovative’ minds, I'd be as rich as he is.” Harley tells him honestly, before clinging to another piece of his words. He’s never really been good at staying on the same subject for too long. “So is that how you met him?”

 

Something in Peter's body language shifts, as the two finally reach the multipurpose room. It’s a simple modern classroom with flexible seating and miss-matched chairs. There’s a projector on the far end of the room and no main desk. That being said, a few reusable grocery bags sit on one of the tables. “Kind of.” He picks up the bags after peaking once inside each. Harley makes sure he’s fine holding them himself, before helping him out, back down the hall and up the stairs. “I signed up for a grant without realizing and he showed up at my home, telling me I’d gotten in. ‘Said he liked my polymer and couldn’t seem to make it himself, so he was interested I guess.” 

 

Peter shrugs, and his voice is carefully distant as if he’s leaving out information. Harley doesn’t particularly push, given he doesn’t know Peter that well and he does know the strength and fear that comes with signing a Stark Industries NDA . For one thing otherwise, Harley can practically hear Peter’s trepidation, whether about Tony or the Grant overall. He tries to remedy it. “Well Tony seems to like you, he talked ya’ up all night after you left, and he doesn’t really talk about anyone like that but, like, The Spider-man and The Iron Patriot.” 

 

His voice is joking, but it's completely true. After the night they’d met, Tony would mention, in passing, little things about his intern. Things he liked, as a reference for teenagers overall, and had made time for him like he did with Abby and him. “Something for the internship,” He’d said, getting into his own car instead of a driver’s . That wasn’t common, and kind of meant Peter was in the small group of people Tony let actually see beneath the exterior walls of his personality.

 

Peter cocks his head to the side, not looking at Harley but there's a hint of hesitation that draws through his words. “He talks about Spider-man?” A pause, then. “I didn’t think they were that close.”

 

Which… doesn’t really make sense to Harley. Tony brags about his friends and avenging coworkers most chances he gets -- or, if you’re Steve Rogers, it's a tossup between a too-positive comment on his physique or simply making fun of the man out of time. Peter not hearing about Tony’s little tidbits about the arachnid hero makes him want to scrunch his nose, at the possibilities as to way. “Really?”

Either, Harley is probably not supposed to be airing out the conversations he has with Tony all willy-nilly -- especially not the superhero related ones -- or he misjudged Tony’s opinion on Peter and shouldn’t have made assumptions. It’s not like Harley had any classified information normally, but from experience Tony would talk to anyone who’d listen about how he’s mentoring the excessively smart spiderling. Huh. He decides, fairly quickly, he might as well clue Peter in. 

 

“Yeah, no. Tony’s, like, obsessed with the guy’s smarts. Wicked-high IQ and crazy strength.” Harley explains, trying not to think about how the guy looked the other night. It haunts him when he closes his eyes, and only party because of fear. He pushes through, despite an inexplicable fuzz growing behind his eyes. “I hear he’s always out, savin’ the city, he’s based in Queens, or something, though. It's a little ways-away.”

 

They’re at the stairs soon enough, and Peter shifts the bags to look down while he walks. Harley offers to walk behind him so he won't fall. Their conversation continues. “Midtown’s in Queens, actually.” Peter informs. “I’ve met him once or twice.” He then adds, a little more hesitantly. 

 

A fleeting flash of Peter in Harley’s place scorched his mind, and he blinked it away as fast as it came. If Harley hadn’t been there to help, who knows what kind of civilians could have found the hero. Traumatized civilians -- possible tourists or kids -- or even someone who’d unthinkably unmask Spidey. Mr Stark assured him, after the matter, that Spider-man had been healed fairly quickly which he was grateful to hear, but stressful nonetheless. No civilian would get that assurance and he couldn’t really count him as much of a civilian anymore, after helping Tony. He knew a lot of the ins and outs when it came to Avengers business; it was better that it had been him rather than a random bystander on the street.

 

Honestly, it shouldn't have been affecting him this much. He was basically an adult, his eighteenth birthday was in the next few months and he had been quite knowledgeable about what really happens behind the pretense of heroism since he was eleven. He wasn’t weak .

 

He swallowed. “What’s he like in person?”

 

Harley hadn’t much time to talk interests in his three -- two and a half, it felt like -- times meeting Spidey. He could assume. Someone righteous, strong willed, but nothing he knew was concrete. Plus, Tony wasn’t always the most accurate source since half of his descriptors either were movie references or vaguely insulting nicknames. Peter was like a fresh set of eyes, untainted by Tony’s ‘proud mentor’ ramblings, as it’d been proven.

 

“Uhm.” Peter coughed, and when Harley glanced at the brunet he looked to be thinking about the question. “He’s pretty cool. Sticks up for the little guy, and all that. He tries his best, I think, to talk to normal people on the street so people aren't scared of him. Like, despite what the Bugle says about him, I think he’s pretty well-liked.” He doesn’t sound confident when talking, and Harley momentarily feels bad for putting him on the spot for describing his in-person opinion of a  superhero. If he’s honest, Harley was still reeling for weeks after he met Tony.

 

They get to the door as the conversation patters off, and they enter without another word. Inspired, Harley now wants to meet the original webbed hero. Maybe something when the two aren't in near-death situations.

 

The party is pretty well set up by the time they get back, though he’s sure they were barely gone for a few minutes. The strangely huge cake is now adorned with heaps of blotchy luster dust, looking not unlike lab grown bismuth, in the weirdest way possible. He was fine with this, and assumed it was very probably Gwen’s doing. Very quickly he was starting to understand the general vibe of the friend group he’d somehow found himself in. 

 

Everything was going great.

Notes:

i hope you all enjoyed! i still havent been able to get to comments but i get notifs everytime yall leave one and it makes me so happy yall are enjoying it !! if you have any questions, my tumblr is open to asks ! @th3sungod

FINALLY some peter and harley interaction! i love these two and i think their dynamic would be so rivals-core :3c

only note for this chapter is peter mentioning Aletheia, the greek goddess of truth. while writing this, i sorta forgot the mcu already had a character named aletheia, so just clearing it up hes not mentioning blind al lol

Chapter 5: Can't Sleep 'Cause My Bed's On Fire

Summary:

“I can get Coulson to write up a dossier on the events, if you and Gwen are willing to sit through questioning,” She says to Peter, looking directly his way. “We’d be able to look over similarities and differences, find out more.” Maria explains further. Paperwork like that is grueling on both ends and she’s been working for ‘S.H.I.E.L.D.’ -- turned United Avengers -- for almost twenty years, she knows.

“I’m fine with that.” Peter says, shrugging as if it was no skin off his back. “I’m sure Gwen is, as well-- Actually, I have the spider in a jar still, if you wanna give it a look. It's, like, really radioactive though, still, so you might need protective gear or something to hold it.”

Tony thinks that, just maybe, everytime Peter opens his mouth he might get another grey hair.

chapter title from 'psycho killer' by talking heads

Notes:

SORRY FOR THE CHAPTER DELAY BUT ITS HERE NOW

tw for blood, violence, disassociation mentions, etc. also harley doesnt have a lot of tact in this chapter so be warned lol

Everything was a disaster and the world was ending.

 

Mrs Reid was out to get him -- he was sure of it -- and if he had to make one more note on how messed up the United States government was in terms of power holding and capitalistic pandering, he’d probably lose it. Because while she was saying some things, positives about their current system, Harley could very well think of examples where they simply weren't the case. Hypocrisy at its finest, some may say.

 

Was he being dramatic? Maybe, but his hand was cramping from holding a pen for what felt like hours, and as each second ticked by he wondered why the hell notes would be graded .  It was hell on earth, surely. 

 

Within the last two weeks, he’d already filled around twenty notebook pages in U.S.-Government . Each section was themed for whatever colour he was feeling for the day, and he assumes his subconscious associates annoyance with red, given how different hues take up multiple pages. He’d been resigned to be a walking, talking, pinterest board while writing about the structure of each United branch in a perfect Graphite Light ATT font , and red pen or highlighters for the important parts.

 

He hasn't even covered that many pages in Spanish 4, and he still takes time to write down each cognate with care and precision, despite half of them now being things he definitely already knew. 

 

When he told Abby about it, she tells him that it was god’s punishment for being ‘smart as shit’ and doesn't hold any sympathy for him. He hung up, caring more for someone to mope with him -- his hand hurt from writing so many homework notes and if he looks at any more doodle ideas on pinterest for the margins of his page, his brain will for sure implode

 

He’d been sitting in his room for the last few hours, taking notes. Simple, Cornell, notes by all definition with coloured pens and highlighters. Doodles he didn’t think up himself in the margin, because he was not good at drawing but liked the look. He never claimed them to be his, but no one ever really questioned it since the pages didn’t look real half the time. It was completely and utterly perfect, legible -- which left a visible dent in his ring finger, where his pen rested while writing. The windows were closed, like usual, but the artificial light was a little grating. 

 

In a fit of being annoyed at his own pliancy, he decides he needs to go for a drive, pens and notebooks still strewn on his bed.

 

A drive would be nice, it’d calm him, he knew as a fact. Tony was gone, away with another Avenger meeting, and Pepper said she’d be getting off late, and Harley just so happened to know where the keys to the Electra were. No power steering wasn’t a problem for him. Plus, he’s sure he could stop for power steering fluid if he really needed it.

 

Sending a quick message saying he was going out, to a group chat with Pepper and Tony, he threw on a pair of shoes. He grabbed the keys from the kitchen’s junk drawer when he got downstairs. He also took the garage clicker and added them both to his own carabiner. The car had a tag, and surprisingly it was renewed within the last year, so he didn’t find a problem taking it down 59th and into the thick of New York City. He liked driving, it was peaceful despite how often he found New York drivers somehow worse than he imagined. They all acted like they’d never seen a turn signal, and after he got cut off for the second time, he decided maybe driving away from time square was for the best.

 

Somehow, cruising down 7th, there wasn’t a single Auto Shop. Neither on 6th or 5th, and he should’ve realized that’d be the case but somehow the idea was still jarring. He looked it up, and the closest Part and Auto shop was in Queens. That seemed just a little far, and he was already weirdly invested in either buying just the fluid or even going all out and getting the piece to fix it. He was good with cars, and Tony had a few jacks in the garage he could use. 

 

He didn’t exactly know if Tony would want that, and it was overall pretty weird that he hadn’t already gotten it repaired, or done it himself for that matter, so Harley deduced calling him would be the best course of action -- only after he drove onto the Queensboro bridge. The Electra’s top was down -- it wasn’t a perfectly sunny day, with clouds littering the sky--, and Harley had his hair pulled back into a claw clip at the back of his head to keep it out of his eyes. He was only going 30 on the 35, hoping that’d lessen the wind sound.

Tony picked up after three rings. “ What's up? ” There was the sound of slight chatter on the other side but he couldn’t pick it up over the wind. Cars were honking as well, and the ride was far from the new models that had bluetooth connectivity.

“Hey, Tony. So, I dunno if you saw my text but I just wanted to let you know I’m on my way to Queens.” Harley informed, watching the traffic up ahead and slowing to follow. With one hand on the wheel, he had to shove the phone between his ear and shoulder to switch gears, keeping with the flow of cars.

 

There was a pause of Tony not answering for a second, before a slow, “ Did Goldberg drive you? ”

 

“I assumed she was busy.” He said, in lieu of answering, feigning as if it was the most obvious thing, despite having not really taken time to think about it. “Plus, what's the harm in a little power steerin’ problem?” Harley asked rhetorically, “I messaged you beforehand, anyway.”

He knew Tony wouldn’t necessarily have an issue with him taking the car, but it was clear there was some sort of problem he hadn’t forethought. It made his hands buzz with nerves, keeping an eye on the cars infront of him. There was another pause, Tony’s voice coming out just a little more exasperated, and with a little more feeling than he normally allowed. “ I really don't like the thought of you around New York without an escort with all that's happening. ” He said honestly. 

 

There was the sound of a door shutting on Tony’s end, and Harley admittedly felt a little bad. The admission put pictures in Harley’s head of Spider-man laying bloody and a phantom feel of pain shot through his leg, almost jerking the clutch. He didn't, though.  “I.. didn't really think about that.” He swallowed uncomfortably.

 

Tony sighs, resigned. “ Where’d you say you were headed? Queens, right? ”

 

Harley hums in acknowledgement, his mind wanting to apologize but not quite knowing how to say it without sounding small. Guilt starts to gnaw at his gut, and the little voice in his mind never really makes sense on a good day is amplifying the sentiment in jumbled words. He really didn’t want to be reprimanded by Tony, but his mother would’ve easily taken the moment to tell him how illogical he was being. The image of Tony calling him illogical of all things made his chest tighten.

 

“ Alright .” He inhaled, as if thinking about twenty different ideas at once and scanning for the best possible thing. He didn’t want to have Harley feel trapped, but he didn’t want him alone with New York’s current problems. There was another click of a door, but Tony paid it no mind as he went on. ” I’ll see if I can find someone to meet you, but if I can’t, I want you to come straight home after, no detours. ”

 

He wasn’t saying something, and Harley caught it, despite not knowing what that may be. “Got it,” His mouth felt somewhat dry, but he found his voice and it didn’t waver. He even feigned a lighter tone. “I’m headed to a parts store and I’m using Friday for GPS, so you can get the exact address off her . ”

 

“ Thanks, kid. I’ll call you if I don’t find someone .” Harley was relieved to hear a small, fond, smile in Tony’s voice. He smiled back, instinctively. “ I have to go though, Rogers needs me back inside. Cya, kid. ” 

 

Something about the mere thought of Tony being disappointed in him made his skin crawl. He didn’t outwardly try to disappoint him -- not that he even said he was disappointed in the first place -- but it was indescribably juvenile, the way he shrunk in on himself.

 

“Thanks. Bye, Tony.” Just as the call ended, he was finally able to merge off the bridge, the guilt still at the back of his mind. It’s all too quiet after the line goes dead, and Harley flicks the radio on.

 

♡

 

Tony sighed as he clicked off the call, putting his head in his hands. He knew Rogers was watching him, having followed him out of the conference room while Maria had been taking the lead. Major Ex-Shield agents normally worked at the compound, but she was one of their new colleagues. She didn’t do field work like Romanoff or Barton, but she organized a lot of their collected data and provided information from their still active government associates.

“Was that your son?” Steve asked, looking at him with curious sympathy. He didn’t correct the man’s wording, and just nodded. “Is he alright?”

 

Tony huffed through his nose, wanting to answer a firm no . Harley had a penchant for finding himself in the middle of dangerous situations, almost worse than Peter -- with the only difference being Harley never outwardly looked for them, to which the man was eternally greatful. “He’s fine- as fine as you can be heading to Queens, apparently. And without a bodyguard.” And then under his breath, “My god, he’s gonna give me grey hairs.”

 

He moved to opening his phone and scrolling through contacts. Inadvertently, Harley was right about Goldberg being busy, but he’d just assumed Harley would stay home. But, Tony really should've known better. Harley is a few months from eighteen and used to driving himself anywhere he can think of. He's used to casual freedom and people to talk to, and Tony really should've known he’d have left the house sooner or later. It's not like Tony had said anything against it, and Harley would know he’d be lying if he said it was a problem with him using the car. No, it's just the fact that Tony hasn't felt this scared since Spider-man took down the Vulture, and that was nearly three years ago at this point. Thanos sent damn near irreversible fear down his spine and he hasn't felt the same since, and now they're dealing with nothing less of an enhanced genius running around New York.

 

So he's scared, but Tony doesn't outwardly say that. Either way, Steve looks sympathetic, as if he can read his mind. Like over three years didn't take away his ability to. Tony wants to hate him for it, but he can't. 

 

“You set him up with Agent Goldberg, didn't you?” Steve asks earnestly, furrowing his brow as if trying to figure something out.

 

Tony nods. “She's at the compound today, running errands- Which, he didn't know either way, and decided to go driving.” He exhales, “He's been cooped up in that house all month I'm surprised he didn't leave sooner.”, Tony adds honestly, “But today of all days I can't think of a single employee, Avenger or Stark Industries, that's not busy and who I know can make sure my kid is safe.”

 

Steve gets a contemplative look, thinking about the problem alongside Tony, and he just might enjoy how it's like slipping back into old ways. He knows his mind and feelings are a jumbled mess with Steve being a very wide neural-pathway for a whole lot of it, but there's a part of him who wants to lean on Steve. The other part, the angry one, wants to never see him again -- lock him up and throw away the key. 

 

Steve stiffens minutely, more as if he's thought of something he shouldn't have, but when Tony looks at him he knows somehow the idea is one of those ‘stupid enough it just might work’ types. He sighs, knowing with the expression alone that he won't like the answer Steve will give, and even more that if it's the only plan Captain America can think of it just might be the only option. He’s had time to think things through, and given the timeframe he knows not a lot could've changed to make things better. At the time, he just assumed he could separate Captain America and Steve Rogers, one a friend and the other an opponent. 

 

He braces himself, “Whaddya got, Cap?”

 

♡

 

A ping from Harley’s phone alerts him that Tony found someone, and that they'll meet him there. He doesn't provide a name, but tags on in a separate, following, text that he's a friend of a friend, and can be trusted. The wording is clunky and weird, but Harley doesn't question it. He assumes by this, whoever Tony’s sending is awkward and standoffish, He has a fleeting thought about it being a hero. 

 

It isn't. 

 

When he gets to the auto shop, he's met with an all-too familiar face. He wouldn't recognize them normally, being in casual clothes and all, but he looks strangely normal like this. 

 

Harley observes when the guy notices Harley, and he stands in something mimicking parade rest, almost. With hands shoved in pockets instead but chin up and feet a shoulder width apart, standing just outside the establishment. The man’s expression is blank before seeing him, but turns into something careful and tinged with sadness. It's such a quick change, Harley almost doesn’t think he saw the first look. 

 

Harley pulls the car into a parking space, passing the man who’s waiting by the doors, and shuts off the car easily after. He takes his keys from the ignition and doesn’t glance over towards the storefront as he sets the car top back up. He steals himself by making sure his sleeves are pulled all the way down and his glasses are set straight. He knows his hair is kind of a mess from driving, but with a quick look into his phone camera he doesn’t mind the wisps falling into his face.

 

He breathes in and starts walking towards the Winter Soldier. 

 

He looks different in person, but it's unmistakably him. Having taken A.P.U.S.H. last year, and with the whole Winter Soldier fiasco a few years back, his face is very familiar. James Barnes of the 107th, died for his country while fighting alongside Captain America and is the reason for the Captain’s active role in the military. It's one of those things in your history book that seems personal and like the person in question wouldn’t want that information out there for the world to see, as important as it was. But it was taught as something with the same gravity of Franz Ferdinand ’s death, The Bullet Heard Around The World , and The Battles of Saratoga . Turning points in United States history that the schools taught like a mantra. 

 

When he approaches the storefront, Sergeant Barnes comes towards him, slow and hesitant but trying to portray confidence. Harley briefly wonders how this man could be the Winter Soldier with a barely visible poker face, but stamps down the thought immediately with guilt. His hair is cut and looking more like the pictures plastered in his history book, but he’s wearing normal looking clothes.

 

Barnes speaks first. “Stark- Tony asked me to accompany you.” He says, matter of fact, smoothing the uncertainty from his face and obviously trying to smooth it into neutrality. It only half works, but his eyes still speak a mile a minute. He holds a hand out, his right. Both are, however, covered in dark leather gloves -- Harley remembers one of them is metal underneath, but can't remember which side. “I’m James.” He introduces himself, and Harley gives a small smile in kind while shaking his hand.

“Harley.” And makes sure to confirm, for the sake of them both going into this with an understanding, he asks, “You’re Steve’s friend, right?” It comes out hesitant and unsure, as if Barnes will ask him why he’s trying to be covert or something similarly awkward. 

 

It's in a way to not draw attention, but also to inadvertently tell Barnes he knows who he is. He doesn’t want to spook him, or anything, and in eight or so years he’s learned to not catch heavily traumatized fighters off guard. Barnes seems to understand what he's doing, and pulls up a different front. He smiles, “Yeah, Steve’s friend.” he confirms. 

 

He was a little overwhelmed at the thought of having Sargent Barnes accompany him, despite knowing logically that Tony would want him to be safe. He didn't once think about how he 'didn't need a babysitter’ or anything like that, because he was honestly a little worried now that Tony put the thought in his head. The utter helplessness he felt when the Green Guy attacked for the first time overpowered any qualms. But James Barnes? He was a hero and Captain America’s right hand in anything and had been the world’s best assassin for years. This somehow seemed like a little much, if Tony’s first thoughts was him. Harley's had security details before, for one reason or the next while in New York with Tony, but they were usually just private security. 

 

“I’m just here for, like, two things.” Harley explained, nodding his head in the direction of the doors, a signal to follow. Barnes did, and hummed in acknowledgement. 

 

It was quiet for a few moments, which Harley was used to when it came to a security detail, so he didn't expect when Barnes spoke up. “So, do you know a lot about cars?”

 

It gave Harley a little pause that he was asking, but his life was far from usual or uniform and it definitely didn't seem like it’d start now. “Uh, yeah. I guess. Back where I used to live, I worked on mine and my Ma’s.” He said, plainly and truthful. He doesn't look over to see if Barnes absorbed that information, because he could practically feel his eyes on him. Not in a bad way, but in this moment the little thing in his head that he realizes might be very much connected to his ‘vampire instincts’, is pushing ‘ careful. careful. unknown .’ into his mind and he can't seem to shake it. It's never made sense before, really, so he doesn't expect it to now, but it does give him pause before trying to move on. 

 

He needs the fluid and to see if they have a pump for that car -- and the price. It shouldn't be too much, but he knows it won't be any less than $50. But, manual labor would be over ten times that, and it’d be easier and more efficient this way. He knows Tony wouldn’t bat an eye at the expenses, so it shouldn’t matter either way, but if he already has the skill set and extra time. If he could do something and doesn’t, it makes him feel at fault for anything that happens after. In this case, the extra spent. Or, if Pepper or Tony for some reason needed to drive to work on their own and take the car, what if the wheel doesn’t turn on time? What if they can’t drive it well? The ideas of the possible negatives is high, and given the abilities Harley can prevent that all from happening.

 

“ Huh , I guess that must run in the family, then; Any flying cars yet?” Barnes a joking lilt in his tone, and it took Harley a second to figure what he’d been talking about. It was less than a moment, but he remembered some of J.A.R.V.I.S.’s files on the technology and he count help but light up. It was so interesting.

 

“Well…” There was a brief moment where Harley thought he shouldn't be telling anyone about the possibly fatal information -- for the company, that was -- but he shrugged it off easily knowing this was a man who’s at least heard about the prototype so many years ago, and Harley was way too interested in the topic to not share. He glanced at Barnes as he started speaking, smiling with barely concealed interest. “In nineteen forty seven, the first Hovercar was operational.” He recited, just like the file had started with. “It only hovered off the road, and we're far from public use, but Tony made upgrades to the technology when he became Iron man.” Harley said proudly, as the two turned down an isle, where the fluid should be if the overhead labeled were to be believed.

 

He didn't see how Barnes made a slight face at him saying Tony’s name, but shrugged it off either way. “He use that on his armor?”

 

Harley shook his head, “It's too unstable for that kind of flight. Revidic reversion tech is repelling gravity itself by vibrating atomic strings, while the repulsors are miniature particle accelerators powered by the Arc Reactor. The big difference is if that the reversion tech will cap out your speed--which, we don't really know why, but Tony hasn't gone back to it.” 

 

When Harley looks back again, Barnes’ eyes are wide, taking in the information and nodding slowly as if he didn't quite understand but pretended to. Harley almost winced remembering that Barnes was not from this time, and decided to revise his statement. “Basically the car works for hovering but the suit is too fast for the same tech.”

 

Barnes blinked twice more before jerking his head once in another nod, more final, and Harley decided to leave the conversation there. Luckily, he’d just gotten to the different steering fluids and started to look through them, ending by picking one up he’d used in Rose Hill. Old reliable, he might say.

 

“This is it! Now I gotta go upfront and ask about the pump.” He told Barnes, gesturing to the Parts desk. 

 

Barnes followed wordlessly, acting more like how Happy or one of Tony’s other employees would around Harley. There was no trouble at the desk, the attendant was an older man who raised a brow at Harley being the one to ask, but seemed to humour him by bringing it out. The man was looking at him up and down as they checked out all the same, staring more than once at his hair, necklace, and nails -- the latter still done from the ball, albeit slightly grown out -- but Harley paid it no mind.

 

He didn't hear Barnes click his tongue at the scene, and they left the store with both items in hand. Harley started speaking again, it was still sunlight out since they’d taken less than thirty minutes inside.

 

 “You didn't bring your car, right? ‘Cause I got mine and it's pretty hard to tail someone in New York, surprisingly. I mean, as long as you don't mind me driving? I’ll be puttin’ in the stuff but it'll still be pretty hard to drive.” He rambled, walking towards the parked car. Unlocking it, he sets the pump in the backseat and grabs the asymmetrical bottle, moving to pop the hood. 

 

“No, Steve let me know you had a car.” Barnes says simply, not yet getting in and watching the kid.

 

Harley props up the car hood with it’s stand, opens up the pump. There's not a drop of fluid inside, meaning it's got a leak, but luckily the fluid is just to get it home -- or to last however long he needs to drive it. With moderate driving, it'll take a few days to clear since he doesn't think it's that bad, but he wants to get it fixed later for sure. Unscrewing the lid, he pours it in simply, making care to avoid getting it on his clothes. 

 

It didn’t fill the pump, by far, but he really didn’t want it full when he fixed it, so when the container emptied he’d gone to the storefront and dumped the bottle. Wordlessly, Barnes watched him as he walked away, but upon coming back the man had already gotten into the passenger seat. Harley doesn’t put the top back down after taking down the prop rod and slamming the hood closed -- a necessity with how old the car is -- and he slides into the front seat when he's done. Barnes is checking his phone upon entry, but sets it down just as the door shuts, before speaking up. “Is there anything else you wanna do? It’s a quarter ‘till six, now.” 

 

Harley hums, thinking about it as he turns on the car. For a second it sounds like it wont start, but she does with a roar and the radio comes to life with it. He knows the song immediately, ‘Paint It, Black’ by The Rolling Stones -- briefly he wonders what Barnes thinks about more modern music, despite it being ‘Classic Rock ’. He mentally waves it off and goes back to the aforemed question, just as soon as the unaligned question comes to. He didn’t necessarily need anything immediately, but thinking about it, he remembered a project planned for the end of that month for his Forensic Science class and that he vaguely remembers outlined on his syllabus. He has… nothing for that at Tony’s place. 

 

“Yeah…” He says, finally, pulling out his phone. “An office supply store, mainly, but that should be it. I gotta GPS it, though.” Harley sounds a little sheepish as he speaks the rest, opening a sidebar of F.R.I.D.A.Y. and typing the request in. It’s not standard for Stark-made phones, so it just looks like a borderless app to type commands with a grey background and light blue MonoLisa text. The reply is instantaneous, with two different places closest to him and an offer to open his Map app.

“Sounds like a plan, boss.” Harley doesn’t comment on the fact that Barnes’ New York accent is much more pronounced with the words, but it’s almost enough to remind him that he’s driving around with a hundred-year-old supersoldier from 1945. Only almost, though, since he’s basically a professional at meeting people with atypical backgrounds like his. He, like, just met Captain America over a week ago and had a semi-conversation with Deadpool on the same day. 

 

F.R.I.D.A.Y. goes ahead with the G.P.S. and Harley does his best to prop his phone up on the jaunty dash -- it barely has any place for a phone to rest, but he makes due and hopes there aren't many sudden movements that send his screen flying to the floor. He pulls out of the parking lot with ease, the steering marginally better, and lets the A.I. direction to the nearest main road. Subconsciously, he speaks while he drives, the music switching to a song he can't quite name.

 

“So… uh, how are you liking the twenty-first century, James?” He asks conversationally, hoping for something lighthearted. It was the first question to come out, but he knows from simple history class this has been a wack-ass start comparatively. 

 

Barnes shifts but he doesn't seem uncomfortable -- but Harley can't particularly look at his face with his own eyes on the road. “There's a ‘lotta good changes, I mean- this thing is a pretty nice ride compared to what I had. My folks got me an old station wagon, from thirty-one. It was made out of wood, and looked like one of those Jeep cars.” He seems to let out a laugh at the memory, but his voice is daringly distant. 

 

Harley tries to think back on his knowledge of old cars like that, but he can’t think of a wooden station wagon. Out of curiosity, he’ll have to look it up when he gets home “This is one of Tony’s old cars, a nineteen sixty-eight Buick Electra. It’s been sitting in his garage for years and he hasn’t fixed it yet, so I thought ‘might as well’, ya’know?”

 

Barnes agreed to his logic and the conversation flowed pretty easily. Every so often his words would flip from stilted to dripping with the Old New York accent Harley had heard before. But, he wasn't painfully out of the loop like he heard Rogers was. Barnes seemed to understand the references Harley inadvertently peppered into their conversation -- all of which he picked up from Tony -- and ones he didn't get were asked about. He was nice, and it was clear he knew a lot about the modern century.

 

If you had no clue about his history, he’d pass pretty well as your average millennial -- a bit hipster but that was alright. 

 

Almost too quickly, they’re at the nearest office supply store and Harley is looking through the different paint pens they have. It's honestly a sad collection, they don’t even have POSCA , but with the small outline for the project he found on Canvas pulled up, he’ll be needing something. Pens on posterboard is like asking for death, and he’s confident enough in his perfect penmanship that everything will be legible. Looking at the single colour packets they do have, his eyes flash towards the pastels and his mind supplies the mental image of pastel pink and yellow outlining the fact of a hypothetical crime scene, with an artificial lace border and so many bows. 

 

Somehow, that makes him want to ask Gwen if she has Forensic Science. She doesn’t wear pastels, per say, but it's to the same effect. 

 

He decides on red, blue, and white with a light grey poster board. Its a slightly smaller version of the ones that open and prop themselves up, so its not obtrusive as they walk around the store. Bucky toes around him for the most part, and Harley dutifully ignores how he’s taking everything in like its all new. It probably is, in some ways, but he’s clearly not saying anything about it and Harley knows Tony well enough to leave moments like that be. 

 

“I think I might get a few things while we’re here,” Barnes mentions, looking forlornly at a set of ‘professional’ coloured pencils. They’re beside coloured washi-tape which Harley intends to use for boarders, and if you look further it leads to the sketching paper and charcoals. 

 

That somewhat intrigues Harley to wonder if The Winter Soldier draws, but opts for nonchalance in his tone. He hums, “What are you looking for?”

 

Barnes takes a breath, as if it's been years incoming, and somehow that's just something Harley knows might be true. Some sort of tension draws from his shoulders as he exhales, and he smiles with his words. “Maybe some oil paints if they have it, maybe watercolours. Or- if there's a better kind…?” He directed the latter question to Harley, for confirmation.

 

Harley nodded. “Acrylic is pretty popular from what I know.” And then, chancing a question, “Back then it wasn't?”

 

Barnes’ eyes crinkled at the corners, looking to the distance, as if he was living a quite humorous memory that Harley wasn’t privy to. “It was, but it wasn't used for pictures. It was wall paint.” A small smile formed on his lips, tainted with something sad. “My- uh Steve , he actually got his hands on some once and swore up and down it could be used on canvas. He spent a whole dollar on a gallon of white and made his own colours.” He turned to Harley, letting him in on the information. “He liked a ton of these european artist he’d learned about from class, and basically made these pieces that you could only see if you stepped away. It barely even mattered that he couldn't really see the colours.”

 

Harley had never taken any art class, but he could think of a painting or two like the ones Barnes was talking about. There was a painting in the front office of his old middle school, with flowers coming out of a vase, except when you actually looked there were no definitive lines. It was a trick of the light, almost. Its different to other popular things he’s seen online -- the one with a woman coming out of a clam or the two hands almost touching -- but its a close enough comparison that Harley mentions it aloud. His limited art knowledge, limited in the facts of being simply a passerby, surprisingly get him far when Barnes tells him more about that style. He says it's all things he learned from Steve -- though he calls him ‘Stevie’ a time or two -- and Harley realizes he knows nothing about this man.

 

Neither news reals nor history books capture how he carries himself. The only thing even hinting at the Winter Soldier was how he kept glancing at exits and isle ends, but that seemed all subconscious. Harley doesn’t ask, and therefore doesn’t get an answer. It isn’t really his place to want one, especially when it came to the happenings of the longest prisoner of war in history, who’s both a year over a hundred and yet not a day over thirty. 

 

Some things he just had to accept and move on. That was the world they lived in, now.

 

He tries not to think about the things he’s been suppressing, the other things he needs to accept and move on from, but he still doesn’t seem to understand that pushing things down will do him no help. They move through the store fairly easily. Harley finishes getting the items he needs, while after they get some art supplies for Steve. If you told ten year old Harley he’d be out shopping for art supplies with James Barnes for Captain America, after having moved in with Tony Stark in New York, he might’ve exploded from all the excitement. It was all so surreal. It made it easy to ignore things weighing on his consciousness.

 

Like Tony being worried, because there was a green man attacking New York with no luck of finding him after nearly two months. Or how he still didn’t really understand being a new species of creature, and how there’s a small voice in his head that says unintelligible sentences. He doesn’t think about seeing Spider-man in a pool of his own blood or how it smelled nothing like it should -- he doesn’t think about why he knows what it should smell like.

 

They pay at the counter, separately despite Harley offering to put Barnes’ things on Tony’s card -- a thank you for having to look after him -- and soon enough they’re back in the car. Barnes tells him Tony said to go to the Stark Towers when they’re done, and so Harley turns on G.P.S. and heads in that direction.

 

 It takes barely ten minutes for something to go wrong.

 

They’re on the Queensborough bridge, having about to pass over Roosevelt Island, when they see rather than hear an upper level on a high rise burst into flames. It looks like a line of fire, the windows definitely gave out. Smoke is starting to settle overhead and just barely can Harley see something small start whirring past. Others seem to notice just as Harley does, and suddenly a number of cars are merging off onto the middle island. Harley looks to Barnes, who is squinting at the destruction as if it’ll tell him more.

 

When he meets Harley’s eyes, his face is almost terrifyingly blank and none of the jovial man from before remains, his accent is just around neutral. “Don’t merge. The building looks like central midtown, and more people will be getting off here rather than there. You’ll go through Lenox and until 65th until you get to Central Park West and from there, we’ll get you home.”

 

Another thing Harley doesn’t question is how a handful of Superheros know Tony’s address, since he once boasted about no Avengers even being allowed in the area. He said it was to split his work/life experiences. Somehow, he doesn’t think that's true.

 

Like Barnes said, the road opens up pretty quickly, and the whole time he has a hand holding a small button with the bottom glowing blue as if using Arc Reactor technology. It's definitely Stark Tech, though, just nothing he's never seen before. Barnes directs him around Lenox Hill and to 65th street, which cuts through Central Park, and finally he's in familiar territory. It's three streets until he can even see the brownstone, but the familiar of it all helps calm him. He doesn't really know when he got so anxious, but he can guess it's the fact he'd once been at the mercy of the attacks. But, he doesn’t really like to think about that.

Harley uses a clicker to open the gate, and it closes behind him. He moves to get out of the car, and out of the corner of his eye sees Barnes hesitate before following suit. It somehow doesn’t confuse him that his first thought as to why consists of him only having known the location, never having been. Tony doesn’t like avengers-adjacent anyone in his home, he was definitely right about that, but this also seems like extenuating circumstances. Plus, Tony at least trusted him enough to guard him all afternoon, and Harley can’t imagine giving that role to anyone he didn't trust. So, out of all of them, Barnes must be something.

 

A part of Harley’s heart warms at the idea. After The Mandarin, he felt like Tony didn’t really get along with the people in his line of work -- the gala nearly confirmed that with Tony and Rhodey’s reaction -- but knowing he had someone on his side was nice. It made him feel a little better about the closest thing he had to a dad working as a superhero, that they’d have his back.

 

Harley directs him to the few steps up into the central house, opening out right beside the fake kitchen and open-concept main living room. Luckily, his Ma taught him how to be a good host and he can let this part distract him. “Would you like something to drink?” Harley asks, gesturing for Barnes to sit anywhere on the couches. “We have tea, iced and hot, water, coffee…” He trails.

 

Barnes meets his eyes for a tick, and Harley can see how they’re still mostly lifeless. He politely shakes his head. “No, thank you.” He says it with no trace amounts of emotion, but the thanks sounds in due part to something engraved . Harley’s heard a time or two about disassociation, and he assumes his reacting to the aforemed situation brought him back to whatever Hydra kept him for. He hadn’t heard much about the files, Tony once said they were too gory, and Harley was barely fourteen at the time. That didn’t mean he didn’t know a few things from what the paper said. Something, over two hundred confirmed kills since the fifties, Captain America’s dead best friend, trained soviet spy and Hydra at different times, and someone even speculated he killed Kennedy -- but Harley had no idea what of that was real versus what was run of the mill Yellow Journalism, he tried not to think much on it.

 

Harley opts to get him a coffee anyway -- partly as a distraction for himself, trying not to think positively about helping out with the building -- moving to the industrial kitchen after pardoning himself. In some way he's hoping it could bring him…back? From wherever his mind is at. Coffee was one of those strong scents that stuck onto clothes and items if you make it enough. Tony always smelled somewhat like coffee, gasoline, and a vague burnt -- something he assumed was related to welding, while the gasoline was definitely either a blowtorch or engine oil.

 

He uses Pepper’s espresso machine and copies what he’d seen her do multiple times now, before grabbing milk from the main refrigerator and a small metal pitcher from a nearby shelf, before steaming some inside. He knows how to make lattes, his mom taught him more than a few times after curiosity struck and it’d just be himself, her, and Abby in the diner on a slow night before they were old enough to stay home. He hadn’t done it in a while, but how hard could it be after such time?

 

He grabs a mug and starts by pouring the espresso before the steamed milk. Harley tries making the basic adjoining hearts but ends up with something akin to a fern. He huffs, but thinks at ‘least he tried’. He takes a saucer from beside the mugs and brings it out to where Barnes is still sitting still and near-unmoving as if another second hasn’t passed. The only things proving him not a statue are his ears twitching, lifting sometimes as if he's assessing sounds. Harley had never met someone who could move their ears like that, but he also didn’t think now was the time to ask about it. 

When he approached, Harley set the mug on the coffee table before him, and there was an infinitesimal moment where his nostrils flared before his eyes snapped back to Harley. 

 

Harley smiled at him assuringly, not really knowing what else to do. And, Barnes smiled back, still only something seeming engraved, but this brought something lighter to his eyes that wasn’t there in the moments before. He was never one to question Tony -- actually, no, he questioned Tony a lot -- but if that rattled Barnes like this, why was he the one Tony chose? It was a little odd, or maybe Harley wasn’t understanding something right.

 

Harley walked back to the industrial kitchen, grabbing for himself one of the pseudo-juice boxes before joining Barnes in the main area, though sitting on a separate couch. Not far to make it seem like he was afraid or anything, but more so Barnes didn’t see him as a threat -- not that he really could be, but Harley didn’t want to take any risks. That's how, like, most things went with brainwashed assassins in books, right?

 

Barnes tracked his movements, blinking a few times before turning to the latte. Harley didn’t mention it, and opened his juice box and spoke aloud to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

 

“Hey, Fri, can you turn on the first episode of Once and text Tony that James and I are here, safe.” He asked the A.I., settling in with Barnes kept in his peripheral. The pump was still in the car, as well as the project supplies, but he’d worry about that later. Tony would be home soon, after dealing with what happened in Midtown no doubt, and Barnes would be able to leave with his original demeanour with lack of problem. 

 

Now he just had to sit and not think about Tony at his technical ‘day job’, saving the world. And definitely not think of finding him like he found Spider-man. Nope. Not a single thought to spare for it, as Emma Swan wished for a family with a small cupcake. Harley was fine, he had a family. He had his Ma, and Sister, Pepper, and Tony would be right back home as soon as he was done.

It was easier said than done. At the very least, when Snow White’s glass coffin appears, he's distracted enough to not firstly think of Spider-man’s bloody form being brought away by Iron Legion bots. (The small voice in the back of his head did, however, scream and he was hit with a small wave of nausea. He tried pushing the thoughts down, and emerged himself into his comfort show.)

 

♡

 

Stepping back into the conference room with Steve, he was left feeling a little apprehensive. Even if they were on general speaking terms, especially with his part in getting his memories back and having him pardoned, trusting his parent’s killer to keep his kid safe would put anyone off. But Steve was so ernist about the offer and Tony decidedly wouldn't be able to think straight if he knew his kid could be attacked by the Goblin again.

 

Barnes was no longer an actual threat. Through B.A.R.F. and Wakandan technology combined -- even something a little asgardian -- he was basically harmless. He still had The Winter Soldier’s memories, but Steve had been saying he was a lot better now. And, despite how he loves to rag on Steve, the man had a pretty good judge of character these days, not so much when he was fresh out of ice and grieving. 

 

Maria was still going on when they stepped in, still using the holograms to project what Murdock and Cage had gotten from an informant. It was a huge amount of information, they’d found a witness at the last attack up in Harlem who had gotten a look at the Goblin’s face and everything from start to finish. Plus, they’d gotten a sample of the bomb The Goblin used. 

 

Tony settled back down in his seat, beside Peter who was once again in full costume. It was a much smaller assembly, since it was currently just those in New York City, but in a week they’d be meeting at the X-mansion for Charles to see if he can get a better picture of this guy. The witness agreed to the session as long as she was promised protection, just in case, and they had a week to schedule something and prepare all necessary accommodation for a safe house. Rand insisted she go as far as Connecticut, and so was busy arranging everything.

 

Peter waved at Tony upon sitting back down, and Tony gave one in turn -- still flippant and casual, but as a better mentor.

 

“Was Harley okay?” Peter leaned into ask, whispering. Tony gave a small ‘thumbs up’ in confirmation, to which Peter nodded and turned back to what Maria was saying.

 

Over the last few weeks, Tony learned that Peter and Gwen were some of the friends Harley told him about. Gwen had introduced him to their little group that the two adored so much -- scarily smart teenagers who had an affinity for movie references and seven second videos. Almost half of them knew who at least one of them was based on vague assumptions and more references -- he still couldn't get over the fact that Michelle said she knew because of ‘similarities to an N.C.I.S. episode’ which was a whole ‘nother can of worms. He couldn't even begin to know how any of that made sense, and he was one of the smartest people of the century, so far. 

 

He was glad Harley had the two spider-vigilanties at his back, in his day-to-day, even if he didn't know it. Neither knew what he was, but they knew Tony was overly protective of him -- yes, he was an adult who could admit his problems, he was overprotective -- so they kept an eye on him. However, Peter had asked him in a roundabout way if Harley was a mutant, because of the red eyes he saw when they first met. But, Tony told him it was nothing to worry about and the spiderling took that in stride. 

 

“Mr Richards and Ms Storm have been studying parts of the hoverboard Spider-man procured, and their latest report shows trace amounts of Vita Rays.” Maria changed the hologram over to a set of testing properties, with the crumpled piece of metal in the corner. Yellow highlighted the flat top, and it matched the yellow in the word ‘Vita’, while different measures were less. Alpha, Beta, and Gamma were all less than ten percent, something stable and pretty normal for the identified metals and tech used, but the Vita Rays were intriguing.

“What would he have done with Vita Rays ?” Peter questioned aloud, supposing to be under his breath but the whole table heard him. When he noticed, he decided to sit up and expand instead of shrinking back. “I mean, like, they're stabilizers, right? But the reactor doesn’t produce gamma-anything.” He cocks his head to the side, mask’s eyes squinting. ”Plus, like, it doesn’t look like there's any more technology on his body, and there’s no radioactivity coming off the explosion sites at all, so they’d have been connected to him…somehow?”

 

It was clear he was thinking out loud, and didn’t really expect any sort of reply, but Peter still got one anyway. 

 

“Are we sure he's just a mutant?” Tony asked sardonically, already moving to open his phone and transfer a few files on screen. Maria didn't bother with telling him no, in the middle of her own showcase or not, Tony normally had information they didn't. 

 

The screen lit up with the words ‘Stark Industries’ before the holograms showed a few different files, visibly flicking them towards the main board until there were seven. Peter, Gwen, Steve, Rogers, Barnes, Banner, and one for The Four. He didn't verbally ask for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to do anything, but she highlighted the similarities anyway. 

 

Gwen and Peter both had trace amounts of Vita Rays in their blood, less than what was shown with the Goblin. The Captain’s said something about losing the radioactivity since he’s been out of ice, but a blood test dated ‘1943’ was pulled up beside it, showing off huge amounts of Vita Radiation. Banner had trace amounts of gamma radiation from when he’s Hulk, and Vita while he's the doctor. Barnes has Vita and Delta on his files, while The four had Gamma and Delta.

 

“Oh, and Extremis had some radioactivity, too. Don't worry.” He flicked another file towards the screen, showing off extremis’ makeup, and how it was cured with Vita rays as a stabilizer from the original Detlas. 

 

Steve sighed, “So, he’s enhanced,”

 

“Got it in one, Cap.” Tony mock praised, visually flippant. “Looks like his turn out was like Jolly Green’s,” He opened Bruce's file. “But he kept a regular-looking muscle mass, so it’s probably- oh, if I had to take a guess, done by implant?” Tony opened Gwen and Peter’s as well, using his phone to select the points that spoke about the spider bite. Jones, who hadn’t yet added anything, took that time to speak up. 

 

“This shit won't really help unless we find out where the spiders came from.” She leveled, taking a sip out of the mug in front of her. It wasn’t coffee, but it didn’t affect her work so he’d let Steve care about those things. She was the only ‘defender’ in attendance, since this could use her area of expertise. 

 

Maria bites the inside of her cheek, thinking. It's the only break in her stone-cold work façade.  “I can get Coulson to write up a dossier on the events, if you and Gwen are willing to sit through questioning,” She says to Peter, looking directly his way. “We’d be able to look over similarities and differences, find out more.” Maria explains further. Paperwork like that is grueling on both ends and she’s been working for ‘S.H.I.E.L.D.’ -- turned United Avengers -- for almost twenty years, she knows.

 

“I’m fine with that.” Peter says, shrugging as if it was no skin off his back. “I’m sure Gwen is, as well-- Actually , I have the spider in a jar still, if you wanna give it a look. It's, like, really radioactive though, still, so you might need protective gear or something to hold it.”

 

Tony thinks that, just maybe, everytime Peter opens his mouth he might get another grey hair. He has a heart problem, for god’s sake, and he feels like Peter doesn’t take that into account when saying something out of left field like that. Luckily, his sentiment is shared with both Maria and Steve who’s eyes both go wide at the statement. Jones looks mildly impressed.

“That doesn’t sound very safe…” Steve starts, but Peter cuts him off.

 

“No, no. It's fine.” He waves off with a hand, “I put it in one of those metal water bottles, ‘cause I heard they had lead in them, and built a small Geiger counter , and it, like, wasn’t a bad replacement for a storage container.” He says all in a flourish, his inflections speaking just enough about how young he is. He sounds sorta like if a husky could both talk and knew way too much about nuclear and radioactive chemistry. He and Gwen were very similar in that way, and despite knowing it probably didn’t, he wondered idly if it came with the spider-powers. ‘Cause, what were the odds?

 

“Oh my god.” Maria spoke under her breath in slight horror, before turning towards Tony. “Where do you keep finding these kids, Tony?”

 

Tony laughed once, giving a lopsided grin. Maria had a dossier on Harley from before SHIELD went down with the nazi helicarriers, since they wanted anyone who came in contact with the Avengers to be thoroughly vetted. Tony had wanted Harley to meet the team, since he was still reeling from multiple near-death experiences, and at time, finding someone to hand the mantle to seemed necessary.“‘S not the first time I’ve been asked that question.” He doesn’t answer it, though.

 

Despite handing the mantle over still something he knew he’d have to get done within the next fifteen years or so, and Harley having never ended up meeting the team back then, he can’t help but be glad he waited. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he would’ve ever brought Spider-man onboard their motley crew. 

 

They go on with the meeting, Peter calls Gwen to make sure she’s okay with answering a few questions and says she also has the spider -- but she actually went out and bought a designated lead-lined container case for it. Maria schedules for them to bring the spiders up to the compound, and F.R.I.D.A.Y. drafts an email to Bruce about a new project. They're about to end the meeting when Murdock walks in, sans the Daredevil attire.

 

“Fisk is missing.” He announces, the doors pushed open in a flurry as he’s breaking down his cane. He looks slightly disheveled with his glasses being the only thing to keep his prim and proper lawyer-look together. His lips are set into a thin line and there are fresh scabs on his knuckles. “His business partner just broke him out, so now we have one less lead.” Peter groans as if he deals with Fisk on a daily basis, which he doesn’t, but some of the tension leaves Murdock’s features at the sympathy. 

 

“You know, once upon a time they used to say the Raft was impenetrable. Literally one guy messes with that and all of a sudden everyone and their mothers are trying their hand.” Peter dramaticizes, shooting Steve a look through the mask. Steve at least has the gaul to look a little guilty. “How did he even get out?”

 

“ Legally , I don’t know.” Murdock says, sighing as he thumbs over his knuckles before turning his head in the direction of Tony himself. “But it might have something to do with the publicized swap to Stark Tech.” He says flatly, unamused.

 

Tony throws up his hands, “Hey, all of our guys have been vetted to hell and back, Friday and Elenore triple checked.” He says matter-of-factly. It’s true. Most of the engineers on the installment were ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. who worked directly in Avengers Tower back in the day. Most of old Hydra was in the main S.H.I.E.L.D. buildings, and anyone left over was thoroughly checked over. They were trustworthy. The only other person there would be Elenore herself as an overseer since Tony was unavailable. He told Murdock as much, in explanation.

 

“And, Mrs Bishop, you trust her?” Murdock asked skeptically, restraining to spit the words like venom. He didn’t have the best track record for huge companies being clean, not after The Hand or Fisk.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Our families have known each other for years, and Elenore makes it a point to keep old things like that sacred .” He explains in lieu of answering. “We met back in college and she even helped me with Jarvis’ first code,” Tony sounds a little wistful at the last part, and Murdock drops the line of questioning. 

 

Maria pinches the bridge of her nose, “I’ll call Coulson.” She walked out of the room, hand ten moving to the earpiece microphone that was basically in a permanent placement on her person.

 

“Friday, how’s Pep doing with all that?” Tony asked his sunglasses, just above a whisper. Despite most of the room having some sort of super-hearing, it was more out of central courtesy. 

 

“ Miss Potts is already speaking with Mrs Bishop about the situation. She has also asked me to contact Miss Paige and Mr Nelson, to direct them here, Boss. ” The A.I. chimes helpfully, pulling up an ongoing call-log from Stark Industries to Bishop Security, as well as the pre-sent messages to the two recipients. “ Alice has also taken the liberty to scan her servers for any malware. It is forty-three percent finished. ”

 

Tony didn't even know why he asked, of course Pepper already had everything handled. She was a force of nature. Just thinking about her made him smile. “Help her with that, will you?” He replied, referring to A.L.I.C.E. .

 

“ On it, Boss. ”

 

He turned fully towards Murdock, knowing the man would be a foe to sense the shift in the air -- though, he didn't honestly know if it was through hearing or feel. “It's already being dealt with, Murdock; our meeting is almost over, care to join?”

 

Murdock didn't physically bristle, but his voice was steel as usual. “I have to check on Karen and Foggy,” He inhaled to a sigh, “Fisk… He knows my identity, and Foggy’s livelihood is pretty intertwined with my name.” Murdock’s words were carefully chosen, almost diplomatic. 

 

“Stay safe, Red.” Jones said, tone much less harsh than as was her usual. “Get outta here, Karen is probably worried sick and you know it.” She sounded disapproving, but from the little time Tony had known them he was able to identify the sentiment as fond.

 

Murdock tried for a smile, but it was sad. “Right. Then, I’ll be on my way.”

 

Murdock turns to leave, cane still folded in one  hand, as he puts his second hand out for the doors. But, he doesn't get that far. His body goes ridged as the floor seems to shake with the sounds of an explosion ricochet off the wall.

 

Tony is already making a move for his suit’s housing unit, while Steve, Peter, and Jones stand defensively in one motion. Murdock looks like he's listening, head tilted back slightly, until he taps his glasses and his own suit forms along his body. It was only a precautionary thing, he apparently had a suit-maker already, but the glasses were an additive for the collective worry in the hero community. 

 

No one had felt safe since Thanos, and an explosion so close sounding felt like the tip of the iceberg. Nearly every hero had an emergency nanite suit, and those who didn't had a public identity already.

 

“Friday, what's going on?” Tony barked out, feeling the comfort of the metal engulf him. 

 

“ The Baxter building is under attack, sir. The thirty-fourth and thirty-fifth floor are on fire, thanks to multiple explosions. I am contacting Reed Richards, now. ”

 

Schematics get pulled up of the building, highlighting which floors are engulfed while two different tabs open with security footage. In them, you can see the explosion before the fire starts. The A.I. also opens the windows of the conference room, once locked down for the meeting. With a hand, Tony sends the information to the table’s holograms, and sends one look to Rogers. “Suit up, Cap.”

 

In a split second, Tony jumped out the window with F.R.I.D.A.Y. catching him on the thrusters before he had a moment to take control. The H.U.D. loaded up quickly, his sunglasses melting away into the material and leaving him with directions towards the Baxter Building. He didn't need them, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. would always provide. 

 

It wasn't very far away, 42nd and Maddison was barely ten minutes from Stark Square by car, and three in the suit. It was a street or two over from the old Avengers Tower, and was indeed on fire. Smoke billowed into the air in huge wafting waves, the two aforementioned stories taking the brunt of the mess. 

 

There was no sign of the Green Goblin just yet, but as he got closer he could see Susan Storm in the sky, dipping in and out of the feuding flames. There shouldn't have been many people in the top part of the building, but she was looking more frantic every time she came back out. 

 

Taping one of the arms in his suit twice, a compartment opened with six nanite balls. With ease, he took the first one and set it into a small barrel that formed at one of his fingers. They were miniature communication units, made with nantes, so when Tony shot the ball at Storm, it latched on and crawled its way up to her ear. He made them for situations like this.

 

A small chime indicated it was in place and F.R.I.D.A.Y. was informing her about the unit, before the communicator patched through. 

 

“Storm, what happened?” He asked, flying beside her as F.R.I.D.A.Y. scanned the building.

 

“I don't know,” She sounded pleading, ”Reed and I were in his lab, but the place exploded around us. The whole place is supposed to be fireproof, but there's gasoline everywhere and we have no clue how it got there.” Storm turned fully to face him, “Ben was already out of the building, and I already got reed out, but I couldn’t find Johnny.” She’s only teetering on calm. The both know Johnny couldn’t die from fire or heat, but explosions and smoke inhalation were still lethal.

 

“ Ms Storm, Boss, It appears three people are in a top floor bedroom .” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says over the comns, pulling up more schematics. The building’s layout zooms into a room with the signatures, labeling it as a meeting room.

 

Tony uses the director to fly towards the east-facing side of the building, where he can get a better view of the room. It's thoroughly engulfed, flames spilling out the sides as a support beam seemed to have caught most of the original explosion. It's blown out and, since it's the top-most floor, the ceiling looks ready to give out. 

 

“Any idea who the other two could be?”Tony asks, sending forth a few drones to hold up the collapsing area, while setting his nanites to tighten around him, as he gets closer to the fire.

 

Storm doesn't answer immediately, but another voice speaks for her. “One of them is the Goblin. I can hear him talking.”

 

Tony’s head whips around to see where Peter is, upon hearing the voice, despite knowing how far their comns can go, and spots him crawling up the Baxter Building like his namesake. 

 

“You can hear through the fire? From there?” He doesn't see Storm, but she sounds a little awe’d. 

 

Peter makes a noise of confirmation, and Tony watches as he swerves to avoid a falling peice of debris. “Yeah he’s like…” A pause, as he assumably listens to it. “Monologuing. Which means Johnny’s probably at least conscious.”

 

“I’m flying in. Kid, when he flys out, activate Instant Kill .” The mechanic says it in a way that makes no room for argument, flying into the fray seconds later. His suit actively filters his air and the cooling system works wonders, so there's no discomfort.

 

He sees nothing at first, the flames fill his view at least three steps in, before smoke and ash take over. F.R.I.D.A.Y. uses the layout from her system to map the room on his H.U.D., adding in the life signatures. As he gets closer, he can hear the aforementioned ‘monologuing’.

 

“-’Ave everything you’ve ever wanted; going to parties, sleeping with models, and superpowers that you barely even use for good. What? You did one thing for the sake of New York and now you’re seen as God's greatest achievement ?” The voice was scratchy, like the Goblin smoked no less six packs a day. It was grating, accented with something made up of New York if a native wined instead of being vehemently annoyed. 

 

Stepping through the smoke, Tony was met with the sight of the Green Goblin holding Johnny up, while the teen looked loopy. A needle was in his arm and just from one glance, he could tell the Goblin was taking Johnny’s blood. There was a woman on the floor, passed out with a small bruise on her head, and Tony took no time to react. He raised a hand facing the Goblin and precisely shot the glass vile, blood spilling over the Goblin’s hands.

 

“Stand down, Elphie, step away from the kid.” Tony snarled, letting his suit pull out more fire power. 

 

The Goblin cursed as the vile tracked blood everywhere, splattering on not only himself but Johnny as well. He steeled himself for a moment before turning jaundiced blue-grey eyes to Tony, smug as all get out. They looked to nearly pop out of his head, and Tony genuinely couldn’t tell if it was a mask or not. “Anthony, lovely to see you again. How is everything; How’s the kid ?” He let Johnny fall to the floor, as the green man’s hands clasped together and he started walking towards Tony. His face moved with his words, but something about it seemed uncanny, and the mention of Harley was nothing if not terrifying -- though he didn’t let that show.

 

In the same movement, when the Goblin stepped forward, Tony had taken a step back as one of his bullets fired off. Landing right over his heart, on what he first assumed was a simple purple bodysuit -- odd choice but when was the last time a supervillain made any sense -- but it tinged! right off. The goblin looked down at where it hit, a frown crossing his features, before looking back up. “Is that really how you’d greet a friend?”

 

“You’re right,” Tony said, standing a little straighter with his own cocky attitude at the forefront. “You deserved something a little more personal.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. shot at him from the sides, going around the armor with some bullets while others tried hitting the same area. All of the pinged! off the material, and Tony swallowed thickly, visibly not letting any emotions slip.

 

The Goblin clicked his tongue, getting on a hoverboard Tony hadn't noticed before. “Performance issues?” He implored faux-sympathetically, “It's okay, it happens to the best of us. Buh-bye, now!” 

 

He waved his little green fingers that were more than too long for his figure, and Tony clenched his teeth. He’d made that joke before, towards Loki. Tony sometimes thought of it as one of his best-timed quips, but being on the other side made his blood boil. 

 

He flew off, just a second after Tony tried approaching him, but with a small conformation from F.R.I.D.A.Y., he knew other heroes could potentially catch him, he turned back around to the two figures on the floor. Johnny was now unconscious, and from the new angle, Tony could see a small dart in his neck. Thanks to the neurolink, he was able to form a small drone that hovered as he plucked it from the teen’s neck. The drone whirred, and opened a small compartment, which he set the dart inside. “Send that to Stark Labs. I want a complete scan of what it's made out of and what was in the toxin,” He told F.R.I.D.A.Y., letting the drone leave through broken glass as he started picking both bodies from the floor. His Iron Legion centuries would be waiting at the building’s base, and they both desperately needed medical attention.

 

He mentally clicked back to the comns, hearing the throws of fighting, Johnny and the girl on each side. “The kid was with a girl. Both are unconscious but the greenie over here tried taking Johnny-boy’s blood.”

 

“His blood ?!” The older Storm asked incredulously, as Tony discreetly descended from the building, meeting the centuries not a second later. 

 

Tony sighed, “He drugged him, but knocked out the girl. Guy had a vile in hand when I got there so I shot it. I’m already ordering a tox-screen for him and sending them both off to Stark Labs.” He reported, transferring the two onto stretchers. 

 

A ding in his H.U.D. alerted him to a message, and with a jolt of fear he remembered that Harley was supposed to be out today. Not to mention, the Goblin mentioned his kid; it took all of Tony’s strength not to freak out while he opened the message.

 

‘ “James and I are here and safe”, sent by Mr Keener from your living room, just now. ’

 

Relief washed through him. Despite his dislike of James Barnes, he knew at least he could trust the man to keep his kid safe. That reassured him, at the very least, as he watched the sentries fly out.

Notes:

THANK YOU FOR READING i was so unhappy with this chapter for weeks but i love it now and have hope you all enjoyed! I also no longer have concussion symptoms and will be getting back into the groove of things. my twitter and tumblr are th3sungod if yall wanna talk and as soon as i post this ill be replying to comments, so leave them and tell me your thoughts so far!!

Extra notes for this chapter (references)
- For the fic, i was looking for something like an autozone in manhattan, and there are none!
- Prices for the pump would be like 70usd, and labour on that is around 800usd, possibly more in New York City. it isn’t too hard to do with harley’s skillset and the issue is, in fact, pretty common in older cars
- When talking about Bucky’s role in AP-United States History, it mentions a few historical events. The correlation between these items is that everyone learns about it, but a history test would only have maybe one question on it. In my mind, the system would teach Bucky’ involvement as a “What caused Captain America to actually fight the war?” type question. Moreover, I think since its been years, a lot of stuff is unclassified and taught modernly, but a lot is taken out of context.
- Bucky calls Harley “Boss” in casual conversation, which is common between people in the car industry, new and old.
- The car Bucky talks about having was a 1931 Ford Woody Wagon. Not many where made, but the style was popularized for family use.
- Acrylic paint was made in the mid thirties, but was the paint one would use for houses and cars. It wasn’t popularized for everyday painting until sometime after ‘45.

Chapter 6: As I Hung Up The Phone, It Occurred To Me. He'd Grown Up Just Like Me

Summary:

“How the hell'd you manage to get in trouble the second we left?” Harry asks, not hiding how he’s also looked over Harley, despite the forced monotone.

Harley laughs dryly, still feeling a little dizzy from what almost happened but trying to tamp it down. “Tony tells me it's a natural talent.”

> chapter title from the song 'cats in the cradle' by ugly kid joe :)

Notes:

OKAY SO i know it's a very late chapter but somehow so much is happening ( i just found out im moving within the next month and a half so that's fun ) and have also been though MAJOR block, but im getting back into the rhythm ( also posted another parkner fic called 'jabberwoky if yall wanna go read that cause i was totally not procrastinating... ) anyways i hope yall enjoy this chapter. it was edited and posted on my phone so all faults will be blamed on that !

Stark Industries had been working with advancements to the medical field since before their weapons division shut down. The Stark brand had released medical technology; M.R.I. machines, full body scanners for triage, and lab equipment that was off the charts. The end of Stark Weapons brought the rise of everything else the company had to offer, and so a clinic was opened -- just after The Battle of New York.

 

There was only one -- for now -- sleek and polished metals covered in gold and hotrod red, designated for people injured by supervillain attacks, mainly. But, it was also a place for the Iron Legion to bring all their patients, like a lodestone.

 

It was decently sized for a clinic with three stories, taking over a few run-down looking buildings west of 51st and 3rd, with the word 'STARK LABS’ written in huge letters on the side. It honestly started out as a small project of something to do, with his newly minted hero status, but he was more thankful than ever when years later it meant his personal medical team were the ones working on his coworkers. The first two floors were for civilians, while the top floor was the main laboratories, medical supply caches, and designated for Avenger or Vigilante use -- for the sake of identities and what not. Conversationally, so most people didn’t catch on, a majority of heroes called it Central -- though Tony was adamant on Stark Labs being the official title. When at least half the younger heroes, and Harley, found out about it -- all separately , he might add -- they did joke about calling it ‘ Mighty-Med ’, whatever that meant.

 

Johnny had woken up nearly an hour before, but Steve had gotten his hand nearly blown right off, from an exploding projectile. Barnes was still home with his kid, and Pepper wouldn't be getting off until later in the evening -- with the whole Fisk debacle. 

 

Tony put his head in his hands, turning that into rubbing at his features and steeling himself. He needed to check the labs, and standing in the waiting room wasn’t very productive. It’d been over three hours since the fight started, thirty since it ended, and the results were definitely back by now. 

 

Not bothering to check if he was there, Tony called for Peter to join him. Tony was no biochemist, but Peter knew a thing or two and that’d be enough until Richards could join him. 

 

Peter was still in costume, despite the floor being closed off to just them. “So, where are we going?” He questioned, having already started walking with Tony.

 

“I pulled a dart off of Johnny, and the lab was analyzing it. It should be done, now, and I want you to help me look over the results.” Tony explained, as they walked through the corridors, passing the main supply stations. “He was trying to take the kid’s blood , which could mean whatever he used was made to attack whatever he’d been wanting-- which is my working theory. Especially since he didn't use one on the girl he was with.”

 

Peter hummed, “It's possible, but it could've just been a supply issue.” He theorized.

 

“Somehow, I doubt someone who had that much palladium on hand, didn't have the funds for multiple darts.” 

 

“I mean, we can't really rule it out.” Peter countered.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Let's just get this over with.”

 

♡

 

Pepper gets home before Tony, and by that time they've watched a handful of episodes -- enough that Barnes has already figured out that Rumpelstiltskin is the real mastermind behind everything -- but politely leaves when she arrives. Pepper thanks him with a tight-lipped smile, like she’d been with investors and almost-strangers at the masquerade ball. It takes Harley a moment to clue in, but he barely has a second before Barnes is on his way, in the chauffeured car Pepper had used. 

 

Harley sits while he leaves, and Pepper joins him as soon as she’s set her purse on the entry-table. She's in what Harley can only guess is a designer pantsuit, but toes off her heels and sits criss-cross on one of the couches sectionals, like it's the most comfortable thing. 

 

“You’re watching ‘Once’? Gosh , I haven't seen that show in years!” She enthuses, more like her usual self. “Is this your first time watching it?”

 

Harley shakes his head, laughing. “Nope. It's one of the shows Abby is obsessed with, so I’ve seen the whole thing at least twice.”

 

“Oh, of course she did.” Pepper laughed, “I remember the last time we went down to Rose Hill, I’m pretty sure we finished that mermaid show she liked more than once. ‘H2o’, was it?”

 

“Oh god, don’t remind me,” Harley groaned, “She almost had Tony buy her a realistic tail, when we don't even have a pool or nothin’. And we still ended up goin’ to that park in Orlando, after.”

 

 Abby had a habit of getting hyper-fixated on shows, and would make it her life for months. Her wardrobe would change -- though not much other than colour-wise since they were all weirdly from the 2010 s -- and she’d spend her allowance on jewellery and materials for accessories. She’d sew her own clothes, or have Harley sew them for her, and often styled her hair like one of the characters. Not to mention, basically living on tumblr.

 

The conversation was comfortable, and they both settled after a while, just as Emma was made Sheriff in the show, and it wasn't long after into the next episode that Tony showed up. The bags under his eyes from the last few weeks looked more than pronounced, but looked otherwise uninjured. That being said, his suit’s housing unit was still connected to his chest and his, once perfect, suit was now a little rumpled. 

 

His face brightened when he saw Harley and Pepper. And, while he did join them for a small while -- ordering something quick for him and Pepper since it was a late day -- both adults ended up turning themselves in early. Neither spoke about how their day went, which ultimately meant they were really bad. At most, Tony asked how his time with Barnes was, and offhandedly mentioned how he’d gotten to the Labs just as he was leaving.

 

Food arrived, and though Tony had ordered something for him, the thought of eating made him feel a little queasy so he opted for just the blood. They accepted that well, and he didn't mention how the smell of their food was nauseating too. They were done eating soon enough, anyway, and Harley offered to do the dishes. Pepper thanked him, and took Tony up to their room, since the man looked dead on his feet. 

 

Scooping up the dishes they used -- not many, since it was take out -- Harley made his way from the informal dining table to the industrial kitchen. He’d already washed the mug he’d given Barnes hours earlier, polished off latte that it was. Once he was finished washing the different glasses,  forks, and his tumbler, Harley dried and put everything away. He also put away the food Tony had gotten him into the main fridge.

 

When done, Harley sighed against the metal counters. His day wasn’t long, not like Pepper and Tony’s, but it still left him exhausted while with a dull thrum of worried energy coursing through him. Despite his tire, he didn't think he could sleep if he tried, which inevitably is what led him to Tony’s personal lab.

 

The sleek metals of Tony’s personal taste were unbounded by Pepper’s insistence for a homey atmosphere. The moment he walked through the doors to the second house, it was like all semblance of warmth melted away, opening into a sparsely decorated workshop with silver countertops and glass screens. It was all surprisingly tidy, for Tony, and despite a few nicknacks laying around -- a random watch beside a screwdriver, a set of keys, and a weird little glass-crystal rose thing that was probably a gift for Pepper. 

 

It was empty otherwise, and with a small room visible through glass walls. In the beyond was a kitchenette and cot, separated by a sliding door. There were two doors off to the side, other than in the room, but they were both closed.

 

F.R.I.D.A.Y. was online, indicative by how the lights came on upon his entry, but had yet to say anything. Taking a few strides towards the main desk with a single glass screen, Harley called upon the A.I., a plan already formulating.

 

“Fri, can you get me the schematics for Mark Five of my potato gun? I wanna make a few adjustments.” He made sure his tone was light enough, since he had no clue if she’d try alerting Tony of him using the lab, and he wanted to sound convincing on the ‘just in case’. 

 

Not a second later, the glass lit up with his profile in her servers, his different files to one side of his picture -- one taken of him with Tony, when he first came to New York as a much younger kid -- while the other side held his music playlists. The ‘Potato Gun’ folder opened immediately, and out spat another file for his Mark Five. It was much more efficient, having been created from an old Stark weapon, with potato ammunition. It was made mostly as a joke, since it was what started their whole mechanic-mentee relationship, but in the end it worked pretty well.

 

It only needed one medium sized potato which would make up the difference of three normal magazines, using an extension on the end to cut one up into roughly forty even size pieces, and shoot them like an airsoft gun. The only problem that he’d come away with was the speed. With how the potato-section would heat during it’s time airborne, paired with the terminal velocity, there was no bite to the shot. It was just mashed potatoes when it hit the target, barely breaking paper in a shooting range. 

 

With how things were fairing recently, Harley knew his fear was unfounded. Tony was working around the clock to protect him, assigning him someone to accompany him wherever he needed, scraping the surface of what was actually going on with the green terrorist wreaking havoc in New York, just so Harley knew better about the situation. He didn’t want Harley hurt again and wouldn’t let that happen with his precautions, so Harley shouldn’t need to protect himself. His strength and speed had increased exponentially since he’d been eating regularly, and his skin was weirdly tough, he would be fine.

 

He didn’t need to reverse-engineer a Stark gun for his safety. He really didn’t.

 

But Harley had a wicked good aim, and it wasn’t really hard to do in the first place. He’d already built ones before, too, and a lot of people he grew up around kept them for safety -- and it wasn’t a real gun. Harley didn’t need real bullets, he didn’t want to kill anyone, but repulsor technology wasn’t really lethal . Plus, as long as he put some sort of potato moniker on the side, he could write it off and F.R.I.D.A.Y. probably wouldn’t feel the need to tell Tony.

 

Palladium was too expensive to just buy without Tony noticing, but Harley could practically build a particle accelerator in his sleep , which meant badassium was the easier of the two to obtain, funnily enough. He didn’t need a huge piece, but he’d have to rework the core into the single reactor-type. The original was palladium, since Tony didn’t particularly want him having a constantly working Stark gun around for no reason at the early age of fourteen, but since then Tony had taught him to make the element himself so surely Tony would be fine with it. ( Or, that's what Harley lied to himself with. )

 

He wouldn’t be able to make the gun in Tony’s lab, since F.R.I.D.A.Y. would definitely find something fishy then, but by midnight he had a blueprint down-pat and had the A.I. forward it to his phone. He’d built a working gun before, all by himself with a box of scraps, he could surely figure to make this just as well.

 

Just before he left, Harley swapped a few things around on the schematics, in the event Tony happened to look over them -- promising himself that this was for the best and a just in case, sort of thing -- before closing everything down. The real schematics were on his phone, encrypted with some of the knowledge he picked up from re-programming some of the new-age car computers, and if Tony looked he’d just see another potato gun, blown up impossibly large that shot six potatoes at once through a magazine the size of two pop cans. It’d just seem like another loony shot at a potato gun, an eight year long joke with too many layers to explain. 

 

He’d need to find the way to get the materials without Tony knowing, and if he wanted to do that he needed to get to bed. He had robotics and metalworking in his next day’s classes, and he could section out the work so it seemed inconspicuous enough. He really didn’t want Tony to think Harley assumed he couldn’t protect him, he knew if his Ma was in a similar situation she’d become annoyed, so this would just be a very small side project. Last and worst case scenario only, so he’d probably never have to use it.

 

Probably.

 

♡

 

School the next day felt a little tense, and he couldn't quite place why. Tony had seemed resigned in the morning, barely being available to see him off before Ms Goldberg drove him, and he was naïve too assume it would end there. But while the first period was normal, homeroom right after found Gwen looking a little green around the gills.

 

Her usual style was more muted and toned down, just a black, off the shoulder, sweater dress and royal blue Mary Jane s with  ruffled socks. Harley hadn't known Gwen for very long, but he realized it was a lot less than anything else she’d ever worn. She wasn't wearing any accessories and her hair fell completely flat, rather than how it was usually styled with the cut. It wasn’t a bad look, but it was in such contrast how that day she matched Harry rather than opposed him. 

 

That’s not to say her personality waivered, she still seemed cheery as ever, with the first words out of her mouth being to ask if he was going to club that afternoon, but it didn't go amiss how Harry kept an eye on her as if he was worried.

 

“I am, yeah,” Harley confirmed, as Dr Octavious called out attendance. The club fair had been happening over the last few days during lunch, in the outdoor cafeteria, and Harley had officially signed up for ‘Around The World’. Gwen to his surprise, hadn't been the one at the table, instead being two friends of Kate’s, but nice nonetheless. 

 

Gwen squealed in excitement, “Ack! It’s gonna be great. You’re, like, actually gonna love it.” She says in a flourish, a few students looking their way at the overeager sound. Harley doesn’t actually know what ‘Around The World’ entails, beside “learning about foreign cultures” in a general vague sense, but from how Harry talked about it, he assumes its hype mostly comes from seeing the Midtown students. It's not like its the only club that partners with Midtown Tech; from what he’s learned the Thespian troupe is merged thanks to low numbers, and a lot of the sports are conjoined as well, but its all for the fact that the schools aren't really made for those sorts of things. Also, apparently a lot of the students went to the same middle school, since somehow there’s only one for gifted students in the whole of New York City.

 

Harry rolls his eyes, affectionately. “God, Gwennie, you’d think you’re introducing him to the president or something.” He turns to Harley, leveling but with amusement in his eyes -- teasing Gwen. “It’s just a club.”

 

“ Just a club?” Gwen squawks indignantly, “Harry, I’m half threatened to kick you off the homecoming committee with that attitude.” She threatens, pointing a finger at the accused.

 

Harry gives a faux sad look -- probably the most emotion Harley’s seen displayed on his features ever . “Oh no, not my place on the committee…Whatever will I do?”

 

She elbows him, and turns back to Harley like nothing happened. This type of interaction, he’s learned, seems to happen a lot. “Around the World is like after-school care with video games, music, imported drinks and food that's all funded by the school. We have an official esports team.”

 

That gives Harley pause. “Wait, what? What games are y'all playin’?”

 

Gwen’s smile is wide and blinding, seemingly so glad Harley asked. “Risk. Geoguesser. We also play minecraft on a world map, which is actually really cool ‘cause they don’t have the nether or anything. No minecraft esports, though.” She sighs as if it's a slight against her, while slumping dramatically against Harry.

 

“What would Minecraft Esports even be?” Harry muttered, reluctantly keeping Gwen upward.

 

“Uhm…”

 

Harry huffed out a laugh, “Exactly.”

 

“Oh shaddup, Harry.” Gwen bit back, standing up straight once more while shooting him a glare. She turned back to Harley. “Either way. You’re gonna love it, it's like, glorified hanging out, and a good handful of the members are in the group chat.” 

 

Harley nodded in understanding. “Right, like Peter and MJ.”

 

“And Ned.” She added, ticking the three off her fingers. 

 

Harry tilted his head, thinking. “That's everyone, actually. Besides, Johnny, but he doesn't count.” 

 

“Johnny?” Harley questioned, trying to think back to the group chat names. He’d since learned who Ned was -- having met him the week before -- and pretty much everyone’s names by now. Gwen was more than happy to explain all the nicknames as well, each being some sort of convoluted reference. He didn't think he could remember another name from their chats, and he’d gotten to be a pretty active member.

 

“He’s in there as ‘ Heath Burnes ’,” Harry told him, as if he was confused of the name, when it was more the newness. But, if he thought about it, he did remember Heath Burns, from when he checked the member log. 

 

That member was never online. “I don't think I’ve met him before.” He mentioned absently, trying to rack his mind for a moment he’d ever seen one of their messages. 

 

“Johnny doesn't have time for lowly people like us,” Gwen put a hand to her chest, faking distraughtness over the fact while resting her head back onto Harry’s chest, falling into him again. Harry didn't seem bothered at the show. “Crazy how superheroes never seem to have time for lowly group chats.”

 

“Wait.” Harley spoke, mentally at a standstill. Superhero? Johnny? Oh god. “As in, like, Johnny Storm? ” 

 

With how quickly her head spun around, Harley thought he heard something in her neck crack -- which was not a sound he needed to ever hear again. “You didn't know ?”

 

Harley let his eyes widen. He hadn't actually clicked on anyone’s facebook profiles, and half of them were obscure selfies that only showed half a face or something taken from far away. At most, Gwen’s was of her full face, but Peter’s was a picture of a sunset and Harry’s wasn't even a person , it was Bad Badtz-Maru. Harley wouldn't even be sure his real name would even be on his page. Honestly, he didn't even think about it.

 

He shakes his head, no , and Gwen’s jaw goes slack. “But I thought you knew him?” She says, as if it's not a crazy assumption.

 

“I- where did you even get that?” Harley was, officially, more than speechless. And Harry, who was watching the two of them, looked smug as all get out. Harley understood why Gwen kept elbowing him before, this was definitely a constance.

 

“I saw--” She pauses and blinks, as if she's remembering or something. She sounds more level when she next speaks,  “I saw pictures from the party of you two talking.” Then, directly facing up at him, “He also said he had your contact info,”

 

Harley sputters, not knowing exactly what to say to that. He was about to vehemently deny all accusations, in a way that’d make Stark Industries’ P.R. team wince, but the memory of actually talking to Johnny Storm came to the forefront of his mind.

♡

 

The teen had stood, in a perfect red and orange suit that looked like fire licking up the hands and feet, expertly embroidered. The number four was on his lapel, in a small silver pin that the other Fantastics had. A lazy smile tugged at his lips while a woman hung off his side, a blond in a black dress who was barely even paying him any attention. 

 

He held out a lazy hand, hazy eyes raking up Harley’s body, “You look stunning,” The Human Torch said in lieu of greeting, “Mind if I get your number?”

 

Harley scoffed, more amused than anything, but didn't take the given hand. It wasn't the first time that night that elite peoples around his age -- and even some much older -- had asked for such a thing, and he was skeptical each time. He knew he was technically ‘the new kid in the block’ but he didn't quite mind the attention. But a superhero asking something so bold? Now, where were his manners? Harley’s own mother would be appalled. The Human Torch put his hand away after a moment. “You ain't even introduced yourself, yet.  A little ambitious, don’tcha think?” Harley chided, leveling him with a look that was half curious. 

 

The Human Torch laughed, tossing his head back. “I know exactly who you are, hotshot. And I think you know who I am, too. So why don’t we just… skip the pleasantries?” It wasn’t said with any malice -- overconfidence, maybe -- but suave enough to hide how glaringly cocky he was. He… however unfortunately, was devastatingly charming. Sultry tone and the brightest blue eyes Harley thought he’d ever seen. By no means was it a crush, but when someone that attractive asks for your number, it's inevitable. Really. Though, Harley wasn't easy enough to hand it over without a win.

 

“‘S That so?” Harley questioned, faux innocent and letting his accent seep further into his words. “Honey, I ain't from around here. I might not recognize ya’,” He flirted back, using any tricks he saw on all those rom-coms Abby had him watching with her, since there was no way he learned that back in Tennessee. A crush was something to be hidden, and if a teacher heard two students who were ‘together’, they’d properly be separated at all cost, always it seemed. An unfortunate side effect of purity culture and all that. Or, maybe it is just what happens when people catch you kissing a boy when you were definitely supposed to be in class -- it only happened once, Harley would swear.

 

The other teen smiled, letting out an amused breath but removing his arm from the girl glued to his side, and stretched out his hand again, more sincere sounding. “Hi, I’m Johnny. Storm.  And you are?”

 

Harley smiled back, finally. “Harley. Keener.” He mimicked the way Johnny introduced himself, and took Johnny’s hand before shaking it. He was shockingly very warm, which was in stark contrast to Harley’s cool skin, and was able to inconspicuously pull his hand away as quickly as he realized Johnny didn't seem to notice at all, to his surprise. He plowed through. 

 

“So… Your number?”

♡

 

Harley rubbed his hands together at the memory, trying to cough up kinetic friction to warm them subconsciously. He sighed, meeting Gwen’s gaze. “He has my number,” Harley concedes, “But we ain’t talked at all. I- uh, kinda forgot it even happened.” He admits, more sheepish. Harry is looking on as if it's the funniest situation, while Gwen looks placated. 

 

Gwen breathes in, collecting herself. “Harry, I’m gonna kill him.” She says, eerily calm, moving to open her phone that was already in hand. 

 

“Murder is, in fact, illegal , Gwendolyn.” Harry replies, taking her words with nothing but a grain of salt.

 

She turns on her heel, facing Harry. “But you’d bail me out, wouldn't you?” She asks in a sweet tone, bringing a shoulder to her cheek and batting her eyelashes.

 

He snorts, “Against a superhero? Not a chance, short stack.”

 

“Ugh. You know, Peter would save me.” She tried, sulking and turning her eyes onto her phone again. “And, he’d probably help me with Johnny, too -- without calling me names.” She bites, but Harley can't tell if she's actually annoyed that Harry won't help her or if she's exaggerating. He assumes the latter, but he hasn't exactly known the two very long.

 

Besides that, Harley was… thoroughly lost. “Wait- why are you premeditating the murder of a superhero?” Somehow, he didn’t think over-exaggerating someone’s relationship was good enough for this reaction. 

 

Gwen didn’t look up as she started furiously typing on her phone.  “That ‘superhero’ was bragging about knowing you -- since you’re, like, Tony Stark’s son. He’s known Peter and Harry forever , and is possibly the biggest douchebag to walk the earth. ” She put a single hand’s finger quotes around the word ‘superhero’, and not a second later Harley felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

 

“I’m- What ?” That didn’t clear things up. Not at all, actually. That might’ve made it worse. Johnny Storm was a hero in his own right, why the hell would he care that he was Tony’s kid? Also, “Tony’s not my actual dad.”

 

Yeah, sure, the person with that technical title was dead to him in every way that mattered, but a part of him was starting to wonder if people really thought Tony was. Sure, Tony adopted him, but that was purely for the sake of needing a guardian while living in New York. Also his mother didn’t hold all the responsibility, and knowing they’d have someone just in case she died -- which, after the Battle of New York, she found was an easy possibility.

 

Gwen paused at that, looking up slowly. Harry’s lips parted slightly, expression losing the joking look from when he was talking to Gwen. She spoke first. “Wait, seriously?”

 

Harley slowly nodded. “I don’t even look like him, how did you even come to that conclusion?”

 

“Dude. Coverage of the masquerade said the official story was that you were a child of his from his ‘playboy’ days.” Gwen told him, tapping her phone a few times more before bringing up an article and handing the device over. “Mr Stark was even quoted saying you were his kid.”

 

With wide eyes, Harley took the phone and started reading what she pulled up. The header was titled “ Tony Stark Introduces Secret Son To The World ”.

 

During a Masquerade Ball in early August, Avenger and Businessman, Tony Stark revealed his secret son to the world. Seventeen-year-old Harley David Keener attended the Ball with his father and Virgina Potts -- Tony Stark’s fiancée and C.E.O. of Stark Industries. 

 

Harley Keener was born in Tennessee, and lived there until just a month before the ball. Having attended Rose High School, in Rose Hill, he was a straight-A student, and on track to be valedictorian before moving to Manhattan and enrolling in Socrates. He has a sister, Abigail Elizabeth Keener, and their mother, Kathrine Annette Keener. Keener is their mother’s maiden name, since…

 

Harley skimmed through it, trying to find the definitives. They had way too much information on him, for his liking. And even though he knew this was a probability, seeing it written out was like a new layer of discomfort.

 

…Over the course of the night, Stark was pulled aside multiple times and asked about his son, to which he laughed off mostly. But, one of our journalists was able to catch a word with him about Keener.

 

“Harley is my kid.” Stark had told Rebecca Windings, one of the journalists of the night, when asked who exactly the kid was. “Basically the future of the company [Stark Industries], he’s already patented a few of last year’s releases.”

 

The patents in question, being Stark Industries’ line of StarkPets, and the Quantum Pager. StarkPets was a set of pet robots for families with animal allergies, and you can find them in most Stark Outlets…

 

… “[Harley] He’s like me in a lot of ways, and I’m so happy I was able to watch him grow up.”...

 

…When asking Stark about Kathrine Keener, he lit-up visibly. “His mom is such a wonderful woman, so strong. Pepper loves her, too.” Tony laughs, “They’re scarily similar, actually.” He tells Windings…

 

…Of course, this surprise son doesn’t come as a shock to anyone, knowing Stark’s track record. Harley was born October 30th, 2000, which lines up with Stark’s infamous time as a candid casanova. Not to mention, Stark was knowingly in Tennessee around the time. Stark notoriously modified the guns used in “The Green Mile”(1999), producing movie-ready equipment that’d lessen the usage of CGI. This was innovative technology, for the time, and Stark even had a cameo in the film for his help, meaning he was at the filming locations in Tennessee. It’s not hard to infer that Stark met Kathrine Keener around that time. 

 

…On another note, Memphis holds a Stark Tower, which are only in a few other locations around the world, and comparatively its a pretty odd place for one of the most intuitive buildings of our time. Compared to the locations in D.C., Malibu, Shanghai, London, and Munich, Memphis doesn’t exactly fit the mold. We can only assume Stark built this building to be closer to his son, which is showing of who the man is behind closed doors…

 

“What the actual fuck.” Harley spoke aloud, enough to get chastised by Dr Octavious. He ignored the man, for the sake of handing Gwen back her phone with wide eyes. “I’m not his kid, but their proof is scary .”

 

Harry nodded, “Yeah, the press’ has a way of making you second guess your own life sometimes. It’s great.” He said, with deadpan sarcasm. Harley kind of forgot that Harry was also in the tabloids pretty often, but nodded at his addition. At least there would be someone who understood.

 

Harley blinked a few times, trying to keep his thoughts in order. The press thought he was Tony’s son, biologically. His friends did, too. Literally everyone did, if he remembered some comments given by James Barnes. Of all people-- and somehow it related to Johnny Storm lying to his friends about knowing him? 

 

If you told Harley of six months ago the series of events that lead to this moment, he'd scoff and call you delusional. In all honesty, it all made him feel a little delusional so maybe he’d be right; because, how the hell was this all real. At moments like this, he really wanted to stick to his ‘not asking’ about strange shit, but he was already in too deep to think of stopping now.

 

He shook his head of his thoughts, “Okay, and how does this relate to The Human Torch knowing me?”

 

Gwen sighed as if it was obvious. “You being Tony Stark’s elusive son and him being apart of The Four would drive tabloids mega-crazy and that's, like, his favourite pastime. He stirs shit up for fun .”

 

Harley looked at her, skeptically. “Right. So, what, he pretended to know me?”

 

“Well…” Gwen thought about it, “He was more implying he met you, thinking back on what he exactly said, but apparently you’re like a pretty big topic among the heroes, according to him.” 

 

Harley knew he didn't have enough blood in his body to flush at her words, as embarrassing as they were, but the phantom feeling was more than enough. “That's gotta be an exaggeration.” He half pleaded. 

 

“I wouldn't know… Johnny’s word isn't too strong when it comes to stuff like that -- as you can probably now tell.” Gwen told him.

 

“Peter would.” Harry broke in nonchalantly. Gwen minutely stiffened beside Harry, but Harley was too curious to let his mind wonder. When Harry saw Harley’s intrigued gaze, he went on, voice dropping an octave so as to not be overheard. “Yeah. He works with Stark all the time and is much closer to Johnny than I am; it'd be crazy if he didn't know something.” 

 

“Huh.” Is all Harley can find to say. He knew Peter worked with Tony, but something about it doesn’t sit quite right. He can remember the conversation he last had with Peter, and it wasn’t exactly telling of what type of internship he had. Hell, he’d mentioned meeting the hero a time or two, very casually. Peter Parker wasn’t at liberty to share his life with Harley -- even though he’s trusted with a handful of Avengers’ secrets already -- and if he was hesitant on telling him anything that was fine. 

 

That left a few questions, though. Why did Harry know -- and probably, by proxy, Gwen? Was this a known thing? Or-- Maybe he had only met Spider-man once or twice, and he just did everything through Tony. Harley was probably overthinking all this. If, upon their technical first time meeting, Peter didn’t want to share he worked with the spider vigilantes, that was fine. It was just a lot to take in. 

 

The conversation made him realize how entangled his life was in New York’s superhero circuit. Yeah, he guessed that it’d be something brought up maybe twice in a month, but he would’ve never anticipated anyone he’d met at school to have ties. He’d never anticipated Tony’s job to get engaged more than a couple of times, especially while hunting down a green man in purple armor --

 

Absent-mindedly, Harley touched his necklace, feeling the weight of the pearl. It grounded him, but before he could resume their conversation, the bell rang. Homeroom was over, and they needed to head to second period. He had robotics, next, and his phone suddenly felt a little heavy in his pocket with the blueprints.

 

Saying goodbye to Gwen and Harry, he scooped up his backpack and made his way to the first floor classroom, the robotics lab with Mrs Clark. He’d work on the main mechanism first, then in metalworking he’d make the barrel and frame. He’d have to wait between pieces, not draw attention, but it wouldn’t be completely difficult to work on a few things at home as well. As long as he kept to his room, where F.R.I.D.A.Y. was only active via voice, it should be fine.

 

♡

 

Harley was proud of the work he’d gotten done by the time club rolled around. Metalworking was his last class, separated by D.E. Calculus. He had to take that class online, in the library’s version of study hall, but it was quiet and delightfully challenging, but not too hard.

 

Gwen, once again, found him just as he was leaving the metalworking room -- and one day he have ‘aught to ask her how she always seemed to know where he would be -- and dragged him to the French classroom once more. She has a little more pep to her step, and somehow since the last time he’d seen her, she’s obtained the two bracelets she normally wears -- silver cuffs, barely visible beneath her long sleeved dress, but he notices them with how they’re the thing she’s always fidgeting with.

 

Club is different from the time before. No over-glittered cake and party streamers, but now the room has lots of flexible seating and a computer cart is by the teacher’s desk. Said teacher -- who, Harley has since learned her name as “Mme. Allard” -- is at her desk, seemingly grading papers, while students are already in the room. Midtown students, indicative of jeans and plane t-shirts, and how his eyes seem to immediately land on a group with Michelle, Peter, and Harry. Ned wasn't in the club, which was a bummer cause he seemed to match Harley’s own knowledge tit-for-tat, but last time he’d only come in a car to go home with Michelle and Peter so they met then. Harley sort of hoped he’d be by again that day, since last time he’d told him about some sort of retro-tech revival he was working on. 

 

Harry was standing next to a table that Michelle was sitting on, legs dangling off the side, while Peter was in a chair beside her. Harry had his arms crossed, but the expression on his face was that of trying to hold in a laugh, while Peter was snickering. Michelle seemed to be the centre of their attention, and Harley caught part of their conversation while Gwen dragged them over.

“-No, you don’t understand, Peter, She’s, like, the epitome of feminism. And also, like, the prettiest thing to walk this planet, actually. And, oh my god, she’s smart too? Her being in New York is terrifying and- Peter, stop laughing at me. This is serious, what if I meet her?” 

 

Michelle sounded distraught, but her cheeks were flushed and Harry’s abilities to hold in his laughter was waning. Harry took that moment, then, to speak. “You’d be fine MJ, she’s just like everyone else, Pete’s met her, remember? I’m sure he’ll put in a good word for you.” He said with a smirk, sending a glance Peter’s way. 

 

Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t really go on. Michelle brought her legs up to her chest and groaned, right as him and Gwen fully approached and Peter’s laughter subsided. 

 

“Hey guys!” Gwen greeted, smiling at the group before sending a look towards Michelle, balled up on the table. “Is…She okay?” 

 

Harry took a breath, obviously resisting humour from his tone. “She’s fine.”

 

Michelle groaned again. Peter patted her shoulder, chuckling. “ ‘Dito , you’re okay.” It sounded sort of mocking. The term of endearment was something Harley had never heard before, the word adopting a sing-song tone, sounding more like ‘ dee-toh ’, but given he's taken spanish for the last three years he can understand at the very least it's in that realm of language. It was also definitely a little patronizing, which was only confirmed when Michelle rose her head to send a momentary glare at Peter. Harry huffed a laugh, finally.

 

Around The World was fun, like Gwen said it’d be. Mme. Allard had them settle nearly ten minutes after school officially ended, to make sure everyone was there, and explained a little bit about the club -- all things Gwen had explained before. There were a good handful of freshmen and some juniors who’d never been in the club before, so they went around the room introducing themselves with ‘fun facts'. Harry, apparently, knew how to juggle; Gwen could, and liked, to crochet; Michelle had a favourite word in italian -- boff or boh… or something--; and Peter liked Star Wars. Harley shared the fact he just moved to New York, though his accent told the story for him. So Gwen, beside him , poked him and told him that everyone already knew that, and he ended up sharing that he helped Tony with the Mandarin when he was twelve. He kept the details sparse, just in case things got out to the press, but luckily under the pretense of passing the talking stick to someone else, he was let free from explaining the nitty gritty .

 

When done, Mme. Allard had them all grab a laptop, and they genuinely just started playing geoguessr. That's it. She offered Risk, which Harley honestly would’ve preferred, but Gwen insisted Harley play Geoguesser with them and he relented. Overall, it was chill. Just like hanging with friends, and it was over pretty quickly -- an hour and a half, actually, but time flies when you’re having fun. 

 

Harley exited the doors to the school building, walking with Harry and Gwen to the parking lot across the street, Michelle and Peter having already said their goodbyes and heading towards the nearest metro station. Ms Goldberg normally met him over there, anyway, since it was further away from usual traffic. 

 

“So we’ve finally settled the date and venue for homecoming, so tickets will be out the first month of September.” Gwen explains to Harley, as the cross-light is yet to turn. Harry is silently behind her, and probably the only one actually checking to see when they should walk. “The theme is gonna be Atlantis .” She did a sort of jazz hand as it was revealed, turning slightly towards Harley and away from the occupied crosswalk.

 

“Atlantis? Like generally underwater or…?” Harley prompted. If it was his sister, who Gwen was starting to remind him of, she’d have a whole reason and beyond for the idea. And, as he asked, a huge smile broke out on Gwen’s face, meaning he was definitely right.

 

“Annaleyse -- she’s not in our year, but she’s apart of the committee -- she wanted to do Ancient Greece. And Harry had suggested something spooky, cause it’s supposed to be the first week of october, and also , someone else suggested something fantastical like enchanted forest or something like that -- so Atlantis it was!” She explained proudly, hands splayed out infront of her for full effect. “It encompasses, like, all of that. I mean, granted, spooky is up to interpretation, but sirens and run down ancient civilizations can be spooky.” 

 

Gwen’s gesticulated rant was nearly cut off by Harry informing them about the walk light. They both followed his pointing out, and by the time they were at the opposing sidewalk, Gwen was back at explaining. “We’ve decided on an event hall in Central Manhattan, that has its own catering and all that. I honestly can't wait.”

 

The conversion quite reminded him of the one they had that morning, Gwen being excited about showing Harley what their club was actually like. It gave him a warm and happy feeling in his chest, since the club turned out well enough, he assumed -- no doubt -- that homecoming would be quite the same. He didn’t exactly know what homecoming in New York City was like, though he assumed it to be somewhat the same. Probably less line-dancing, an with how much money the school obviously had, it’d definitely be extravagant. Hell, not having it in the school’s own cafeteria/auditorium was extravagant enough, already.

“It sounds like it’ll be fun.” Harley said truthfully, feeling Gwen’s giddy-ness coming off in waves. The small thing in the back of his head preened, and for once he wasn’t upset at it. It seemed to like Gwen, and honestly how could he blame it? She was probably one of his best friends, currently.

 

Harry’s car was right at the front of the lot, technically. There was an opening down the road for cars to enter and leave through, but Harry and Gwen hopped over the raised wall with ease, so Harley followed suit. It had a few spaces, and there was a garage behind the main area, designated for the school specifically. It wasn’t huge, with how many people didn’t drive in New York, but Harley was a little surprised to see a few cars still scattered around. Some where visible through the garage entrance -- a downward slope since the main lot took up the lower floor -- but neither other student seemed to find this at all surprising. Maybe other clubs were going on?

 

That being said, Harry’s car definitely stood out among the rest, maybe five others, in the whole parking lot. It was a grey, 488 Pista Spider, with monochromatic racing stripes along the hood in white and darker grey. A Ferrari. Harley could’ve swooned for the car alone. Ferrari’s were surprisingly reliable for a luxury brand, and they were not only beautiful but fast too.

“Is your driver here?” Harry asked, kindly but also sounding like he was genuinely curious.

 

Tearing Harley’s eyes away from the Ferrari was hard, but he somehow persevered. He spared a glance around the parking lot for the sleek B.M.W., but came up empty handed. He shook his head no, facing Harry again, who was making no move to get into his car yet. “Do you want Gwen and I to stay while you wait? Keep you company?”

One thing to know about Harry was that,  beneath the layers of sarcasm and stoicness, he was pretty caring. Harley had learned that over his time at school. He realized quickly that it was the reason him and Gwen got on so well, and it was because despite his mask he was very thoughtful and kind. 

 

Harley politely declined, moving slightly away from the car and leaning on the edge of the wall infront of it. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure she’ll be here in a second. But, thanks though.” He sent a smile Harry’s way. At that, Gwen waved him goodbye before the both of them got into the car, pulling out mere moments later. 

 

It was then when Harley noticed Harry’s rims, simple five point stars that definitely cost an arm and a leg in their casual economy. Despite how simply coloured the car was, with the model and accents it seemed more like a racing car. Decked out in accessories, with dice even hanging from the mirror. Harley would have to ask if Harry actually raced, or if he just put that up for the look. 

 

The car was about to leave the parking lot, when a tire screeches sounded from the garage. Harley’s head whipped around, just in time to watch a car barrel towards him, the driver looking just as panicked as it rolled right down the incline. The tires were spinning out of control, left and right every other second, and Harley tried running well into a single direction to get away but it was too close--

 

He was sure he was about to get hit. After being nothing but terrified of a green man in a purple onesie, his death would be thanks to a car. And, with a silver lining’s moment of clarity, all he gained was the recognition that it was a Ford, before giving up and crouching and curling in on himself -- hoping to anything above that he wouldn’t be too hurt.

 

He heard the crash, but didn’t feel the adjoining pain. There was the creaking of metal, and Harley peaked through his arms to see his savior .

 

A figure clad in red, blue, and gold. His metal suit this time.

 

Spider-man.  

 

The hero was holding the car up in the air slightly, and slowly set it down after making sure the car was well off and in park. Harley, so entranced with how he set the car down with care, webbing the wheels for good measure before swirling on Harley. 

 

“Are you ok- Oh hey, its you! Are you okay?”

 

It took Harley a few blinks to settle himself, the whole situation happening too quickly. A car. He glanced towards it; a Ford Fiesta in royal blue had almost rammed into him. It would've trapped him between the wall and a wreck of metal-- and though he was definitely being somewhat dramatic before about it leading to an impending death, it have been more likely that’d he would have to explain why there was a human shaped dent in the bumper. He knew what his strength was, and his skin was tough, he could’ve well gotten away with only a few bruises.

Fuck, he felt lightheaded. 

 

His eyes flickered back to Spider-man, and swallowing he nodded. “I- I’m fine .” Because, physically, he was.

 

Spider-man didn’t look like he believed him, and Harley felt like he could shrink under his gaze. The white sclera in his mask squinted, tracing over his body as if checking him over.

“ Harley !”A voice called for him, and he turned in time to see Harry’s car stopped at the lot’s exit, Gwen getting out and bolting towards him. She looked terrified, looking between the Fiesta and where he and Spider-man were.

Just before she fully approached, Harley felt a too-cold hand on his shoulder with an accompanying voice. Not too close to his ear, but it sounded loud in his unusually quiet head. Where was the little voice ? “I’m going to check on the driver, but I’d like to talk to you again before you leave.”

 

Despite their last time meeting, and how the memory kept pausing at certain parts like a broken tape, he didn’t feel the unease or worry from before. Spider-man was here. He was fine . He saved him. Would a bleeding out person be able to stop a moving car like that? Maybe, but he really hoped Tony would know better than to let a young superhero out while on the brink of death.

 

“Fuck, Harley !” Gwen practically threw herself into his arms, before immediately pulling back and checking him over just like Spidey did. “Oh my god, are you okay? Harry and I saw what happened!”

 

Warmth filled his chest again, for the second time that day. Bad timing to even be thinking about it, but this physical proof that his new friends cared helped with the ebbing adrenaline. “I’m fine. Don’t gott’a scratch.” He easily threw on a confident mask, knowing better than to worry people. He lived with Tony Stark, for pete’s sake, he’d gotten almost blown up by a villain a few weeks prior. This was nothing, and if he couldn't handle it he couldn't count himself to handle anything.

She slumped at the admittance, and Harley had barely any time before he was being pulled into another hug. The first time was sudden and quick, but this was long lasting. She was much shorter than he was, even while wearing heeled shoes, but her hug was bone crushing and stronger than he would’ve given her credit for. He hugged back after a moment, patting her shoulder blade with a hand and reiterating how he was just fine.

Behind them, Harry moved back into a nearby spot, before shutting off his car and standing beside them, and Harley took a hand away to send a half-hearted wave his way, in lieu of a ‘hello’. Gwen eventually peeled herself off of him, but still looked at him all worried-like. It was much more than he would’ve expected, honestly, but he’d only known her for a short while, so he could never be sure.

 

“How the hell'd you manage to get in trouble the second we left?” Harry asks, not hiding how he’s also looked over Harley, despite the forced monotone. 

 

Harley laughs dryly, still feeling a little dizzy from what almost happened but trying to tamp it down. “Tony tells me it's a natural talent.”

 

Gwen’s eyes widen at the information, and they carry the same sad sort of look like in the morning. Despite that, she tries making a lighthearted remark all the same. “Yeah well, keep the near death experiences to a minimum, yeah?”

 

Harry nods. “You're lucky Spider-man saved your ass. Just your luck he was in Lincoln Square, huh?”

 

“What can I say? I was in the neighbourhood.” Spider-man’s voice remarks, and Harley turns in time to watch him approaching the small huddle they’ve made. The person from inside the Fiesta is sitting with her legs to her chest and a broken e-brake in hand, dejected and on the verge of tears. Spidey’s figure covers his sight line of the girl, inadvertently, and Harley’s eyes are drawn to the white sclera. 

 

He clears his throat, unintentionally standing a little straighter from when he hugged Gwen. “Spider-man. Thank you.” He says earnestly.

 

Spider-man, he notices, is shorter than him. He has a pretty muscular build, lean. Not lanky like Harley, but a square frame. He who, with his own hands, picked up a Ford Fiesta to save Harley. That weighs nearly a ton, literally . 

 

Spidey smiles through the mask, that of which Harley can tell thanks to how the eyes squint and his cheeks widen. “All in a day’s work.” He says, honest. “ Plus , that makes us even. I never really got to thank you after last week.”

 

Harley’s cheeks feel like they're heating. They’re not, he knows they're not, but wow is it hot out here --? Harley rolls his eyes, fondly exasperated while the vampiric nuisance in the back of his head starts buzzing like crazy. Chittering, finally speaking up for the first time in a few minutes of strained quiet. “I wouldn't call that completely even. That's twice you've saved me now.” His voice took on this tambre, and he can't place it in the moment but his fledgling brain is on overload at even talking to the hero infront of him. “And it's no worries. I was just at the right place at the right time.”

 

“Not everyone would've done what you did, Mr Keener.” Spidey tells him with vehement determination, and even despite the mask he can feel the hero’s eyes on him. “But I think I’d prefer to keep the score where it is; so maybe stay out of trouble, yeah?”

 

Wordlessly, he nods. The moment is strangely thought for only having met Spider-man a few times before, but this is completely different. Spidey’s tone is caring and genuine, and Harley is completely entranced by how he carries himself.

 

A cough breaks them out of stale air, and Harley whips his head around to be reminded that Gwen and Harry are standing right there. He can't exactly read Gwen’s expression, for once her feelings don't seem to be written on her sleeves, but Harry’s is clear as glass. He looks like this is the funniest thing he’s seen all week, and it's like Harley’s been dunked in cold water. The single look tells Harley what the tone is, written in highlighter across his face, and even if it's not…

 

Why does it sound like Harley was about to flirt with Spider-man? Or, making a poor excuse of it already? He’s flirted with people before, always been the one with smooth words and the upper hand. But this sounded a little desperate, if he could apply a name to it, his tone was… less than usual in  a clear indicator. Definitely pitched down, and his mouth somewhat dry while keeping eye contact -- or as much as he could with the white sclera. Somehow, unlike his conversation with Johnny Storm, he can't quite chalk this up to something just playful -- give him a few minutes and Harley’s sure his voice would sound as wrecked as that car almost was. The slight formality paired with a joking tone, was as if he's keeping it for some sake other than habit. The simple jovial nature seemed like something one would reserve for a friend, and that type of attention from a superhero who's saved him more than once? It's really not that odd to be flustered by a superhero, but Lois Lane was also a random civilian who kept getting saved by a superhero.

 

He swallows, reeling back in that last thought. Wow okay, get it together . He was not going to be comparing his relationship with Spider-man to anything like that. Nope. Plus, that’d mean he would have to know the hero in real life, and that was simply unrealistic. He’d just be an admirer. From a distance. Yep . Spider-man is just obviously attractive; it was all just physical interest -- something he’s done before. It didn't mean anything.

 

Gwen tilts her head and the look she has deepens, he still can't read her. “Spider-man,” She greets with a small wave.

 

He waves back. “Ms Stacy.” He looks to Harry, “Mr Osborn. ‘S a pleasure to see you again.” Spider-man sounds much more formal speaking to them, and Harley doesn’t want to think about why.

 

“Thanks for saving our friend,” Harry says plainly, “I would introduce the two of you, but it seems you’ve already met.” There's a mischievous glimmer in his eye, and Harley can well now understand why Gwen has taken to elbowing him every time he gets a little too cheeky.

 

Spidey brings a hand to the back of his neck, not unlike a cartoon character, and he sounds sheepish when he speaks. “ Yeah . Mr Keener and I met at the Masquerade.” He turns to Harley, “Gwen, Harry, and I have a mutual friend.” 

 

“Peter Parker, right?” He questions absently, remembering the conversation from earlier. Spider-man nods, it's a beat too late, but he was sending a glance towards Harry that Harley couldn't read, so he doesn't question the delayed reaction. “Harry mentioned he worked with Tony for your tech.”

 

“He… does .” It sounded like it hurt him to say. “He does more work with Tony than he does me, really. But he’s a good- uh kid.”

 

Harley nodded in understanding, mostly trying to figure Spider-man out. A second before he was slow words and carried himself with a suave demeanor. Now, he seemed to be at a loss for what to say. It lined up with his earlier theory, but he almost clammed up at the mention of Peter Parker -- his friend. Were they close? Were they not ? It all seemed a little weird, but it was a little hard to think when the small vampire in him wanted to turn into a pile of mush just at the sound of his voice, and he couldn’t reason why .

 

The air felt a little awkward once Harley mentioned Parker, and it petered into stilted silence for a beat or two. Spider-man was the first to speak up, again. “You two should be on your way, I’ll make sure Mr Keener gets home.” He directed to Gwen and Harry, and Harley was a little taken aback by it. A hand, still somehow feeling more cold than he was, found its way to Harley’s shoulder in what should’ve been a comforting gesture. Harley just stayed stark still, not sinking into the touch despite the vampire in him wanting to, as his two friends agreed to leave. They said their goodbyes.

 

He wondered if Spidey’s cold was because of the metal suit, but he knew it was thin enough for him to feel through and stick to things. It was in such contrast to everyone else he’d been around, made him seem less weird in his head. Maybe it was his mutation? Er- enhancement , was it? He wasn’t quite sure, but whatever it is was nothing short of intriguing. 

 

“Mr Stark actually sent me to bring you home,” Spider-man tells him, just as Harry’s car finally leaves from view. His hand leaves Harley’s back, and he makes a move to stand before Harley.

 

Harley gives him a skeptic look, “Did he? What happened to Ms Goldburg?”

 

“Avengers things.” The hero says, but doesn’t explain further. Harley scrunches his nose at the response. He didn’t really anticipate Avengers -- or people who were Avengers adjacent -- walking him home all casually, or being his ‘bodyguard’ of sorts. He remembers Tony having a whole team, way back when, and there was barely any threat back then. Even Ms Goldburg was clearly not just a normal person, based on one-too-many factors. He couldn’t tell if it was per personal choice or if Tony genuinely thought only trusted specific people to make sure he was safe. 

 

Harley shook it all away, knowing if he went down that rabbit hole of thought, he’d end up with the green mutant at the forefront of his mind -- and he did not fancy that happening. He peaked over Spider-man’s head to see the girl sitting in her car, and in a lower tone, he asked. “Is she gonna be okay?” Gesturing his head so Spidey knew exactly who Harley was talking about.

 

“Yeah. She called a toe truck already, and her parents. She’s not hurt, but her car lost control.” He sighs. “I don’t know all the details, but she said it was getting hard to steer and for some reason thought it'd be a good idea to drive anyway.” Harley could guess it was something like that. Tony may call him clueless, but he knows how unreliable modern Fords can be, but the man just likes chastising him on the fact he quite likes Mustangs. Spidey looks towards Harley. “Tony knows, already. Karen sent him a few photos of everything.”

 

Harley groans, putting his head in his hands. “Ugh, I’m never going to be allowed to leave the house ever again.”

 

Tony was protective. Overprotective, as of recent, but protective nonetheless. Harley had known that for years, to the point they had a voiceless A.I. running security on his house in Rose Hill. It helped with Harley’s lab, yeah, but was a total buzzkill when he wanted to invite friends over. His mom had to add people to the allow list, or the door simply wouldn’t open. It was locked down harder than Fort Knox, which was technically in place for years thanks to Harley’s new lab and the following updates to their home upon the boy’s insistence, but the lockdowns had only been around since Ultron. They hadn’t been lifted since. 

 

Harley knew that currently, Tony was being lenient for how much had already happened. Harley probably wouldn’t even have a bodyguard if he didn’t get hurt on his first day in New York. It was all circumstantial, and he was just lucky Tony hadn't started making him a super suit encase him in -- not to fight, but to keep him away from the world. He knew about the rescue armor Tony made Pepper, which was worry as a thinly veiled excuse for an engagement gift. 

 

He could only imagine the day Tony starts planning some sort of armor for him is the start of the end -- or almost the end -- of the world, since Tony has before expressed how much he dislikes the idea of Harley being like him . He always told Harley that, when unbridled adoration drew the boy to tell him the exact words, “ I want to be like you one day. “

Tony would shake his head, sometimes through video feed, other times sitting in Harley’s own homemade garage, and giving him a sad sort of look. “ You gotta be better than me, kid. ”

 

“At least you’re not hurt?” Spider-man offers, “That’d probably earn you a few months.” He plays along, dramatizing Harley’s, in his mind, very real issue. Harley gives him a ‘not helping’ look, and Spider-man coincides. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You could probably argue for a full-time bodyguard rather than being stuck at home the whole time, if anything.”

 

That idea is somehow not better. At least with Goldberg, he could go into school and shops alone when he needed. He hadn’t attempted on going for a walk yet, knowing it was most likely out of the question, but she was lenient enough he could imagine her giving him at least a little space when needed. She doesn’t wait outside his school all day because, by some miracle, Tony deemed it secure enough -- even while at club. Barnes was an anomaly he wouldn’t quite consider, but he’d have been the epitome of 24/7 security. Walking into stores with him, coming home with him, it was fine for a day but everyday would get exhausting, he’d imagine. 

 

Pepper had that security when Harley had met her. There was always someone no more than fifteen feet behind her and accompanied her whenever she entered a room. AIM had still been a small threat at the time, and no one wanted them to raise from the dead like Hydra, and come back with a vendetta against the people who caused their downfall. Harley didn’t know what it’d look like for him, but it didn’t sound very appealing.

 

Harley sighed in response, and Spider man moved on. “We should get you home, or we’re going to be hearing repulsors any minute now.” The hero told him. “I was thinking I could web us that way, since it’s just around the corner -- it really shouldn’t take more than a minute or two.”

 

That sounded terrifying actually, but in the same adrenaline filled way before you got on a rollercoaster or something. He remembers vaguely being in that situation last time, but he would have been too out of it to really get a feel for what it was like. It could be fun, and surely Spider-man wouldn't let him get hurt, given he’d just saved him, but it definitely gave Harley pause.

 

“How… would that work?” He asked, unsure.

 

Spider-man seemed to brighten behind the mask, “Well, since you’re uh- ‘more awake’ this time, you can just hold onto me. I can also use my little arm extensions-” He moved the metal arms on his suit slightly, as if to gesture towards them, “-To hold you in place, if it isn’t enough.” 

 

Harley thought it over for a moment. It sounded dangerous, and he already just felt a wicked adrenaline spike not even a second before. But, discrediting the first time, it seemed like regular person’s once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to swing around New York City with Spider-man. Instead of wandering right away, Harley steps forward and, with brazen confidence, wraps his arms around Spider-man's neck. “Like this?”

 

Harley could feel the hero breath beneath him, with them chest to chest. He couldn't hear a heartbeat, and he could feel the cool metal against his sternum, the cloth between did nothing to keep it away, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Spider-man nodded, “Ye- yeah . And I’ll just-” His metal arms wrapped around Harley with no further command, and to his surprise, they forcibly moved him to wrap his legs around Spider-man. He lost the few inches he had on the hero, and his eyes were level with Spidey’s. 

 

He swallowed. “Right.”

 

“All set?” Spider-man asked, Harley close enough to hear some sort of metal whirring in his suit -- especially when the white eyes blinked they made a small clicking noise which was something he'd sure no one else had discovered before. Not without getting this close to the hero.

 

Harley nodded, and in one movement was shifted slightly to the side, and Spider-man took off with a clear field of vision. Harley found himself being plunged into Spidey’s neck, going weightless in the air before he could take a moment to look up. He was right about it being like a rollercoaster, it felt worse than going up and down a bridge or elevator. The swoopy-feeling was over prominent, and if he had real food in his stomach he’d be sure that it’d attempt to crawl right back up, but he was lucky on that front.

 

Otherwise… It was a surreal kind of beautiful. The city below, Central Park in the distance, with people and cars milling about as usual. The whoosh of air filled his ears and he could catch patches of conversations every time they neared the ground -- neared being a strong word, given it had been nearly a hundred feet off at lowest. The rush of adrenaline was different, pressed against Spider-man he had the confirmation of safety, and eventually all feeling poured into pure awe . Seeing the city from this view was surreal .

 

It came to a close all too quickly, given they’d barely been far from the brownstone, Spider-man eventually swung them to the roof -- which he’d never been on, or aware the house had access to. But, sure enough, there was a door near the back corner of the building’s top, and there was a perimeter around the area of stone raised stone shingles that Harley once attributed to simple design. It didn't look big enough to prevent a fall, but it goes to about knee-length on Harley.

 

Somehow, when he spoke, he sounded a little winded. Breathless, maybe. “You do that all the time?” His cheeks felt a little flush, though he wasn't sure if they actually were. It was a lot of a new feeling, adrenaline in a way he’d never experienced before.

 

Spider-man laughs behind him, while Harley steps closer to the ledge, looking down from the overhead. “Pretty much; It's a nice view, isn't it?”

 

From the rooftop, all he can see are the other cookie-cutter brownstones with people milling about below. It's what he sees normally, when he steps outside or looks out his window, but before… Before, was waiving through different buildings, looking from above to spot Central Park or Juilliard in the distance. It's fast paced but eye opening all the same. “It is.” He acquiesced with no real fight, “Midtown, like this, has gotta be killer .”

 

Imagining high rises, swinging from building to building as the New Yorkers and Tourists alike below look like nothing more than ants. The adrenaline rush he could probably get used to. Harley doesn't think he’s felt this alive in months . 

 

“Oh it is. Top of The Empire State building at night is indescribable .” Spider-man agrees. Just the thought sounds stunning. The thought of existing over every other building, either looking down at the city that never sleeps, or maybe catching a glimpse of a star or two. He knows the light pollution is bad, but maybe if you're high enough…

 

The sound of a metal door opens, and Harley turns in time to see Tony stepping into the roof. He’s in pretty casual clothes, all things considered, with a t-shirt and dress slacks, but if he did as little as add a blazer Tony would be meeting-ready. His hair is perfectly coiffed with the pomade Harley knows he uses, but it does nothing to hide the light bags under his eyes and how, when his eyes land on him, he looks visibly relieved . Harley feels a little bad at causing him to  worry so much.

 

“Mr Stark!” Spider-man greeted, a smile evident in his voice.

 

“Hey, Underoos.” Tony gave a half hearted wave, eyes still on Harley. Spidey didn't seem to bristle at the half shrug off, just watching him as the mechanic approached. Observing, almost. Harley wonders what his expression would be under the mask. If he was more calculating, or if he used it to hide an expressive face.

 

 “I’m sorry,” Tony started without prompting, taking Harley a little aback. 

 

Out of everything, he really didn't expect an apology. Worry? Yeah. Stress? Definitely. Annoyance? Maybe if he’d been already overwhelmed. Even a hug had become more in the realm of possibility, but an apology ? Harley needed to take a step back, figuratively, just as Tony delivered on the assumed hug.

 

Harley was pulled in with strength, and he could feel how Tony’s hands were trembling. “What are you--?” ‘Sorry for’ feels juvenile, so he leaves the end blank to approach differently. “I’m okay. ‘M not hurt.” He decides on.

 

Tony pulls back, not as quick as he went but assessing as his hands linger on Harley’s arms. It's only thanks to the years of knowing the mechanic, that Harley can identify that he's not thinking when he speaks. He’s too caught up, his mind is going a mile a minute. He's a true genius, and this is one of the  drawbacks. “Goldy has been busy since Sunday, upstate Avengers business, so I hope you don't mind that I sent the spiderling to get you. I would’ve, myself, but Cap can't take a second to smell the roses-- he's coming over, by the way. Tomorrow, dinner company, but you don’t really have to show if you don't want to. The old Capsicle can be a bit much sometimes.”

 

“I’m sure he can,” Harley placates, “You said he's pretentious, remember? United Avengers and all that.” It's grace, trying to take Tony away from the spiral by focusing on just one thing.

 

“ Oh my god , don't even get me started on--”

 

Tony talked, and talked. His shoulders eased as he kept, frantically, checking over Harley’s form. It was about everything and anything, mostly some of Captain America’s plans for some new Avengers things he probably shouldn’t know, but it grounded Tony nonetheless and Harley wasn’t going to take that away. The talking took them through the roof door, saying goodbye to Spider-man -- a half-hearted ‘I’ll check in later’ from the younger hero -- and eventually Harley and Tony sat in the lab. Pepper was not home yet, and the mechanic was defiantly still high strung, but Harley enforced that he tinker with some old blueprints or simply make something. It always calmed him down.

 

Sitting on a counter chair at one of the lab’s desks, Harley was mainly watching as Tony modified what looked like another Mark for his armour. The contrast from the chattering he was doing earlier to the now wordless focus was stark in contrast, but he worked well all the same. He was methodical, still in dress slacks, with holograms going beyond just the tables. They were installed in the whole house, much to Pepper’s hesitance, but even she could admit they came in useful on occasions. 

 

He knew working was a way to help Tony, even if Pepper detested it sometimes. It was very possibly unhealthy, he knew, but out of every coping method Harley could think of, this seemed like the safest option. Plus, he admired how Tony turned his hesitance and worry into something useful. Helpful. He always thought in the world’s best interest, despite sometimes getting there in the wrong ways. Harley wanted to be like him someday, he knew.

 

Overhead, music was playing. Not Tony’s usual and favourite bands, nor Harley’s, but something F.R.I.D.A.Y. put on after a few minutes of silent working. It was decently low, but audible like a department store radio, and was a mix of different songs from their playlists. Harley could recognize easily a few artists from his own -- Weezer, Smash Mouth, and Sublime -- while Tony’s were indicative with how old they were. Some music from the seventies Harley couldn't quite place, ‘Play That Funky Music’ by Wild Cherry , and a whole lot of songs by Queen. Don't get him wrong, Queen was iconic but, coupled with the older music, it was pretty dated. 

 

The closest hologram to Harley, one he was mindlessly doodling some tech sketches on, held the current song playing. He liked being in the loop, despite the music being pretty foreign to him -- his Ma was born in the mid-eighties and the only thing she played besides country, was *NSYNC .

 

The hologram read ‘ Hotel California ’ by a band called Eagles , and it was pretty mellow for the sort of-comfortable silence they’d found themselves in. Harley found it easy to sketch on the holograms, taking useless padding away from his blueprint. It wasn’t anything special, but he’d inadvertently made a suit to mimic the Iron Spider , since it was clear some parts were a little clunky for it being nanites. The song played on as background music.

 

“ -She’s got a lot of pretty, pretty, boys she calls friends. ”

 

The web shooters were so thick for what they did, and even thicker in his normal suit -- with the surface of the memory of looking at them, he pointedly blocked the rest out. It was clunky, and in Harley’s opinion it was much harder to feel a pulse through the neck, especially since before that he’d only really seen it on T.V. shows. He felt his own through his wrist, before, and not being able to get to that seemed pretty inconvenient. 

 

“ How they dance in a courtyard, sweet summer sweat. ”

 

Harley drew a rudimentary version of what he saw of the web shooters, jotting each piece of information down before he could even begin to change them. 

 

“ Some dance to remember, Some dance to forget. ”

 

He didn’t even know why he was doing it, it was simply just something to do with his hands -- if Harley was honest, he was also a little jumpy from earlier. The broad strokes of the pen he was using as a fake stylist -- he didn’t need a real one with the use of holograms -- added in the meeting line between two pieces of metal he recalled from seeing them.

 

“ So I called up the Captain, “Please bring me my wine”, ”

 

A tab pulled up when he connected it to the main piece, asking if he would like to apply previous designs. He selected yes.

 

“ He said, “We haven’t had that spirit here since, nineteen eighty-nine.” ”

 

In one motion, of which he didn’t really register before, more professional looking schematics were infront of him, telegraphed on the holograms. The web shooters, the clunky pieces of metal they were.

 

“ And still those voices are calling from far away. ”

 

Harley almost dropped his pen, at the show, but didn’t externalize his momentary shock. He really shouldn’t be touching real webshooter designs, he wasn’t better than Tony and he’d heard of how smart the Spider-man was. The shooters were probably at maximum productivity, anyway, so it shouldn’t matter. That being said… Harley steeled his pen and pressed the outline of the blueprint, out of sheer curiosity as to what he could do, if anything.

 

“ Wake you up in the middle of the night, ” The blueprint moved along with it, and observing how malleable it was, very similar to Tony’s other holograms, he set his pen in his pocket. “ Just to hear them say; ”

 

The hologram moved with him when he grabbed it. He turned it, once, to look at it’s entirety.

 

“ Welcome to the Hotel California. ”

 

It looked to have a pretty simple design outwardly, with two main pieces of metal connecting on the side, that could be pulled apart. Using the digital device, he slid it off his hand and pried it apart. He almost laughed when he saw the inside.

 

“ Such a lovely place. ”

 

The outer base looked like it was just for show, to clean up the innards. It was bulky and definitely a dramatic thing Tony probably added. The outside was probably also to protect the fragile technology, since it seemed susceptible to breaking easily. Intuitive, nonetheless.

 

“ Such a lovely place… ”

 

He took apart each main component for now, and set to the side the outer shell of the webshooters. He took away the bracelet too, since he wanted to figure out how the main components worked. 

 

“ Livin’ it up at the Hotel California, ”

From what he gathered, a  liquid canister would be inserted into the shooter, and it was a simple mechanism to shoot. There was a small warmer beneath the canister, but otherwise it was otherwise plain. Harley could work with this easily.

 

“ What a nice surprise. What a nice surprise. ” 

 

He didn't notice Tony pausing his work to watch him, the time he took to modify the unfamiliar suit coming to a pause. Tony who was looking on in astonishment, at the closest thing he had to a son following in his partial footprints. He remembered modifying the Avengers’ tech back in the day, and he as sure he looked the same way. 

 

“ Bring your alibis. ”

 

A part of him hoped Harley would never be a part of that life like he was. Never become a superhero or deal with the survivor’s guilt and pain that came with it. Tony would be full of worry, he wouldn't know if his heart could handle the stress. 

 

But…

 

“ Mirrors on the ceiling, pink champagne on ice .”

 

The part of him that watched Peter stowaway on the alien ship, barely months ago, that incited the initial fear had almost wanted to settle. Harley and Peter were so much alike, and them working together would be nothing short of positive. Peter could keep his son safe, and Harley could in turn do the same by updating his tech. 

 

“ And she said, “We are all just prisoners here of our own device.” ”

 

The thought calmed his racing thoughts from before. He valued Peter, and Harley was in most legal terms, his kid. Them protecting each other, as soon as the idea might be, scraped the floors of his wildest dreams. It was possible, he’d just have to make sure the world was ready for the two of them. Consultant and Avenger.

 

“ And did the master’s chambers they gathered for the feast.

 

A scary thought, thinking Harley would be anywhere close to the action, but maybe with some simple cajoling and molding, Harley would be content with staying on the sidelines of the real fight.

 

They stab it with their steely knife, but they just can't kill the beast. 

 

Last thing I remember, I was running for the door.

 

I had to find the passage back to where I was before.

“Relax,” Said the night man, “We are programmed to receive. You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave. ””

Notes:

some notes.

- Mighty Med is a TV show about a superhero hospital that was on one of the disney channels, and given the age of the younger heroes, they would've all grown up and watched it if they had the channel.
-Once Upon A Time is mentioned, alongside H2o, which were both pretty popular shows that Abby would've grown up with.
-harley says pop meaning soda, because of where he grew up.
- the green mile is a movie from 1999 filmed in Tennessee, but i haven't actually seen it.
- peter says 'dito' which is puerto rican ( and possibly largely latin american ) slang. the full word is bendito, meaning in a way 'poor you' or 'poor baby', sometimes genuine but often times condescending ( not always tho. ) also i might've forgot to mention, in all my fics he's puerto rican? btw?

anyways that's all i hope yall enjoyed this chapter it was really fun to write the interactions between harley and spidey, AND the little ties between harley and tony ;).

next chapter isn't yet finished but hopefully this will hold yall over until then ( lotta good stuff happening next chapter !!!!!!!! )

7/12/25__EDIT. I didn't notice until recently that the italics had been removed from the entire chapter from posting on my phone, so now that i finally have my laptop back, im reposting this chapter. i'll probably make a note of this in the next chapter as well because the italics are kind of integral to a LOT of this chapter.
alsoo next chapter is pretty much done minus like two scenes and edits, but still probably wont be out until ive finished moving :brokenheart;, but! i talk about it tons on my twitter (and make parkner shitposts) so if ya wanna see me on there :>

Chapter 7: Feels Like I’m Drowning In My Memories

Summary:

“Hey, kid. You get home okay?” Tony asked, turning fully away from the two super soldiers to face his kid. “The spiderling didn't give you any trouble did he? It's a little late.” He commented.

“Oh, no.” He shook his head, “He just- uh, we decided to walk home.” Harley fiddled with the strings of his backpack, on his shoulders. Tony didn't assume anything of it, since he knew if it was something important Harley would tell him.

chapter title from "I'll Make A Widow Of You" by JT Music/JT Machinima

Notes:

IM FINALLY DONE MOVING also SO MUCH has happened. (ikik ao3 curse) but like i had to go to the ER three days before we had to be fully out of my house which was very stressful since i couldn't do anything to help with how much pain i was in, /and/ i had the worst case of carpal tunnel while packing before so simply everything was keeping me from writing... thankfully now im doing a little better (got sick from ER germs but its improving quite well) and i am back at the writing grind.

this chapter is a little over 13k to help with whatever delay (gen posting as soon as i finished the last scene ) and i will hopefully immediately get to working on chapter 8. i really really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, i posted multiple snippits on my twitter (and will also be doing with future chapters so follow me there @th3sungod ;3 ) and ALFHDLK i was so excited .

There was a distorted figure. Green…ish? with a purple bodysuit and the highest tech weapons Harley had seen to date. The figure was laughing, maniacal, as Harley was forced to sit and watch the show on display.

 

There was a building, he was sitting infront of it in a chair. He couldn't move from the chair. He tried, and he couldn't. He wanted to, though. 

 

The green figure was floating on a raft of some kind, and in his hands were balls the size of christmas ornaments. They weren't. They were explosives, nixing the details. They really just looked like christmas ornaments, though, and he couldn't really tell you how he knew they looked so normal.

 

The building infront of him wasn't tall. It wasn't the usual high rises of New York nor the brownstone Tony lived in. It was a brick building, one story. L.E.D. lights went around the trim of each window, with neon signs hanging between. Signs that read ‘ 24 HOURS ’ and ‘ THE BEST FRUIT PIES ’, in respective pink and blue colouring. It matched the wording overtop the building, ‘ OLD SMOKES: DINER ’ with another indicator beside it saying ‘ OPEN 24 HOURS ’. That last sentiment was said a few times around the place, actually.

 

Inside, with the view clear as day, were old style booths and tables, a classic nineteen-fifties theme. Black, whites, and reds. Checkered floors, round edges, and enough fluorescents disguised as sleek lights -- that’d definitely give someone a headache if they were already overstimulated. He could see a woman with dark blond curls, pulled into an updo. She was wearing the diner’s uniform, red with black and white houndstooth accents. It went well with her olive skin and green eyes. He couldn't see it well, but her rectangular nameplate read ‘Kathy’, he knew. He also, for no reason he could name, knew a single tattoo sat over the pulsepoint of her wrist, too small to see from the window. A butterfly.

 

She was serving a table, as per usual. For a man with brown hair and sunglasses, a woman with fiery red hair, and a much younger girl with straightened brown curls that were flipped up at the end. The girl was laughing, sweet and bright like unbridled joy. The woman was trying to suppress a smile while the man kept going on, with a joke, he was sure. They all looked happy, a family right out of a magazine -- missing a few people but that didn’t bother him too much, no. It looked fine, seemed fine. 

 

But, Harley was ridden with fear.

 

There was only one other person in the Diner, and Harley’s insides shrieked for him to go inside. Save them . And he tried, he struggled in the chair; but the green figure kept him firmly in place -- baubles still in hand.

 

The man inside was sitting at a barstool, sipping something in a styrofoam cup that left his upper lip stained a colour that made Harley’s stomach churn with unease. He was muttering under his breath to himself, unintelligible words as he kept glancing around the diner. He caught sight of Abby laughing, and his expression darkened, finally drinking the contents of his cup in a few short gulps. He stood and stretched, rolled his arms and rubbed his hands together preemptively. As if it was a soon-to-be difficult task.

 

And then he started screaming. Agonizing, painful screams. Pleading for his life to be over. From one second to the next, his demeanour changed. No anger, not calm, but crippling pain tore through him. Harley remembered the words he spoke like a mantra, and they rang out despite his distance from the man.

 

“It's too much ! Oh my god . It's too much . You sit there, enjoying your damned food as if everything is fine , while we’re forced into days-old blood bags. All of you humans are so fucking selfish.” He cried, manic and completely separate from the man before. He had aviators on, but he tore them off as he approached the table, throwing his arms out to grip at the first person he could. It was terrifying, and Harley could almost imagine sitting right before him, scared out of his mind. “You take food for granted, there's so much you can choose from-- god, what I'd give for a taste of something fresh!”

 

Crimson red eyes paralyzed him with fear, as his begged yelling became louder. The waitress was grabbed roughly, and he spoke to her in a hurried tone, nonsense about things she couldn't quite follow. Harley watched as Abby stood, and when he tried looking around for Pepper and Tony, they weren't where he’d last seen them. Pepper was in the place of the waitress, nails being dug into her shoulders while she struggled. Tony was sitting in the booth where Abby had been, and upon seeing Pepper had stood immediately and tried getting the man off of her.

 

The man, unexpectedly, relented to turn on Tony. He pushed Pepper to the side, battering her against a set of tables while Tony tried ripping his own hands away from the man. The monster, he soon thought of. Fear pooled in his gut and with one final pull, Harley- Tony ripped one of his arms away. He had a pocket knife on him, perks of living in the middle of nowhere south, and dropped his eyes for a second to grab it.

 

Hot white pain burned his wrist, and the knife clattered to the floor just as he reached it with his hand. Tony screamed, but it was overlaid by his own, and he couldn't quite place why. The sound of the back room cook entering the dining area felt distant, but the flashes of pain felt like nothing before. Tony’s body convulsed on the ground and Harley knew it felt like his veins burning from the inside out, as his wrist gushed in multiple rivulets and Pepper rushed to his side. The man, the monster , was nowhere to be seen but it wasn't as important. 

 

The pain was all consuming, and his vision blurred until the spots dotting his vision overran his sight line. The pleas from his mother were the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness. It overlapped with Pepper's adjuring Tony to be okay. Something told Harley that didn’t happen the first time.

 

♡

 

Harley woke with a gasp, clutching his wrist and feeling cold all over. He's breathing ragged and his throat feels sore, but he can hear a chutter coming from the back of his throat -- one he can now associate with panic, after so many times. 

 

The memory was real and raw, yet to be scrubbed from his brain by the wisps of wakefulness, but he doubted he’d be able to fully forget the idea of Abby or Tony in his place.  He couldn’t even think of going back to sleep after that.

♡

 

When Tony got up that morning, Pepper was already in their closet getting ready for work. She was a sight to see, half dressed in something ever so obviously Chanel. The skirt was sage green in the brand's iconic tweed. Besides it, however, she only had on her stockings and bra. Tony could well see her through the open doors of their walk-in, just from the comfort of their bed, as she looked through hanging blouses. She was beautiful.

 

Her hair was already up, pinned in what Tony learned to be a french twist, and the skirt’s matching blazer was thrown onto the large ottoman in the centre of the closet. Alongside it was a pair of Prada heels and a bag with the same logo. 

 

Light was already shining through the windows, and Tony knew he couldn't sit in and watch her all day -- even if she was single-handedly the most elegant person he’d ever had the honour of meeting -- and he flipped up the covers to get out of bed. 

 

Pepper caught the movement immediately, looking up at him to smile as she finally pulled a long sleeve from the lineup -- Crepe de chine silk with two long strips of fabric to be tied at the neck. “Morning, Tony.” She greets, love pouring into her words like a riptide.

 

“Good morning, Miss Potts.” He quips, standing from the bed and ignoring how his joints pop pull like he's at least five years older. Pepper rolls her eyes at his faux formality, and shucks the shirt hanger away before piling it on -- careful not to mess up her hair. “I do have to say, you look lovely this morning,” Tony comments, mostly because the set she's wearing he had actually bought.

 

He rarely purchases things alone after buying her strawberries that one time, but he should have been stripped of his ‘Genius’ title if he missed the way she had taken a liking to vintage Chanel. She had a few pieces before, but Tony ended up hiring someone to find whole collections  to gift her. Spring was always her favourite, and the lighter colours obviously complimented her skin and hair.

 

She let the blouse fall over her figure, and pointed a look at Tony. She definitely thought he meant her being half naked, which was partially true, but didn't give a verbal comment on his thoughts. “Thank you, Mister Stark. My fiancé picked it out.” She joked, face impassive but eyes alight.

 

Tony raised a brow, “Fiancé? My, my, must be a lucky man, to wake up next to you every day.”

 

“Lucky? Yes. But he more so likes to wake up halfway through my morning routine and compliment me instead of getting dressed.” She chides, tying the silk in an elegant bow and letting it drape at her chest.

 

“Compliments sound great.” Tony had strided his way forward, pulling her into a kiss as soon as he was close enough.  He held a hand at her waist, pulling her in only slightly so as to not wrinkle her blouse. She kissed back, but her hand moved to the hangers and she pulled something from the rack, unseeingly. Though, having known her for so long, Tony knew she was meticulous in her selection.

 

When she pulled away, Pepper handed Tony a suit bag. “You wanted to drop Harley off today, before meeting the contractor.” She reminded him, gently giving him one last peck before stepping away. “And, Friday mentioned this morning that the rest of our house staff have gotten back to you on those NDA’s, which you should look over, before you forget.” She sounded a lot like she did back when she was his Personal Assistant, and Tony rolled his eyes at the thought before unzipping the suit bag slightly to know which one it was. He’d pick his shoes first, listening to his fiancée while pretending not to. 

 

“I’m having Ms Addams drop off the food for the dinner, tonight at five, so be home by four -- I’ll be in a meeting with Ms Bishop until then, but I’ll be leaving work right after.” The suit was simple grey with pinstripes, and smelled like the cleaners -- not a bad smell, per say, but something forcefully fresh. He decided on a wine red shirt and a pair of red-bottomed Louboutins in black. He set each item on the ottoman alongside Pepper’s things, and moved to look at the vanity section of their closet. His sunglasses and jewellery, separate to Pepper’s jewellery that sat on stands in cubbies and drawers as if to display them. His sunglasses and watches were well organized, but the few earrings he had left over from the nineties and plain Figaro chains all sat in a single drawer -- unorganized.

 

He took a silver Cartier watch and ring, along with his red tinted sunglasses. He had two pairs of cufflinks, and grabbed the silver set between them. When he turned back to put them with his things, Pepper was already slipping on her heels, blazer in place.

 

“Are we expecting Barnes as well?” The woman questioned, not looking up from where she was using careful precision to not rip her stockings with long nails. It was a front, a false aloof demeanour, but from years of knowing Pepper he could hear the tightness in her voice. She didn’t particularly mind James Barnes, but she was definitely weary of him and Steve for a myriad of reasons -- most relating to Tony, himself. “I ordered enough, but I still need to call Miss Morrison to set up the formal dining room.” She explained.

 

“Well he already cracked the seal on our home away from Stark Tower, so he might as well.” Tony commented with a hint of exasperation. This was supposed to be his home away from heroism, he knew that was the original purpose, but work and home were starting to bleed together. With Stark Industries and Bishop Security’s collaboration being blamed for Fisk’s prison escape, this was the only next step -- mending and crossing bridges. 

 

Steve was the most tactical mind of this century and last, and he genuinely wanted to help Tony. They used to be friends, close friends, able to connect on the fact they both knew how it felt to be pinned up as a certain idea and barely a person. They were both pretty sad and lonely at the time, which brought out the rawest versions of themselves. For all the bad Tony could say about the man, he could say twice as much good, and in truth it was hard to hate him. One step closer to working together would be to mend the chasm between them, at least a little bit.

 

She barely glanced to Tony again, but her eyes did flicker. “I’ll ask for five, then. We can always take away the extra plates, if need be.” 

 

Tony hums in agreement, walking to the bathroom to ready himself for the day. He showers quickly, changes -- Pepper had been doing her makeup when he walked out -- and they walk downstairs together. He knows Pepper loves the domesticity of it, and Tony likes the closeness. They work so well together, he thinks, as they both enter the industrial kitchen.

 

“Friday, is Harley awake yet?” Pepper asks the A.I., moving to make her morning espresso. Tony moves to grab an orange from the fruit bowl.

 

“ Yes, Ms Potts. ”

 

She furrows her brows, “Is he not ready yet? It's a little late isn't it?” She questions, checking her own watch. 

 

“ Mr Keener has been out of his room since four-eighteen A M., but my scanners show he left the premises around four-thirty, through the roof. ” F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke in her too-calm demeanor. 

 

When it registered what she said, Tony felt cold dread run down his back. He was outside? “Is he still on the roof?” He heard Pepper ask, sounding only slightly panicked. She likely followed his same train of thought. They may have not been in the heart of Manhattan, but that doesn’t make Lincoln Square safe . The goblin was still at large. Fisk was still at large. Harley was the perceived son of one of the world’s finest, he was a target in most capacities. 

 

“ The temperature outside is too cold for me to locate Mr Keener, given the current parameters of my scanners. Please update them as soon as possible. ” She informed, and Tony really wished in that moment, among others in recent memory, that he’d made her a learning-personable A.I. like J.A.R.V.I.S., but shoved the thought down as immediate as it came. Instead, he made a mental note to update her scanners as soon as he had the moment.

 

But, the information brought some sort of relief. Harley could be up there. Harley was probably up there. Tony very well shot out of the room, waiting no time for the stairs and opting for the elevator. He didn't wait to hear whatever Pepper asked next. After yesterday, the thought of Harley out of the house alone , albeit on the roof, made his skin crawl. 

 

The elevator doors opened and he turned immediately into the first door, that held the stairs to the upper shaft. Tony’s mind raced, uselessly, asking why possibly Harley would be up on the roof so early in the morning -- in the cold, no less. Was he bored like before? Curious? Did he sneak out? Was he- - 

 

Tony swallowed, pushing open the door when he got to the top, and simultaneously pushing away any overly negative thoughts. ( Harley may have been like him in a lot of ways, but he was so much better than Tony could’ve hoped for. Tony had seen it in himself, all those years ago, he would’ve noticed that type of thing. )

 

Cold air hit Tony’s face as the door opened, and immediately he scanned the area. Despite them holding a clear picture on, he took off his sunglasses and shoved them into his blazer pocket. “Harley?” He called out, ignoring how his voice was tethered and nearly torn. The rush of memories from the day before had to be forcefully pushed down, the same type of panic clawing up his chest. 

 

The early morning wind whistled, car horns honking as the sun slowly rose to its apex. Tony spotted Harley’s slippers a second before the boy popped up. He was over the ledge, but in one swift movement jumped onto the concrete top. It gave Tony pause, and fear -- though, still underlying -- was replaced majorly with confusion. He moved fluidly, no hands out to catch himself if he fell, and no so-called ‘superhero landing’, just onto his feet. As graceful as a cat. Tony decided in mere seconds to  attribute that to some sort of vampire instincts, so he could deal with it much later.

 

“Tony?” The teen questioned, noticing his features, “Are you okay?”

 

One of the first things Tony noticed was how Harley was still in his pajamas, the only thing ever so Harley that Abby hadn't quite dug her claws into -- uncoordinated and honest. The second thing was how he’d been outside -- in broad daylight -- with no sunglasses and no sleeves. Tony, personally, didn’t care, but he knows how self conscious Harley is about his new appearance. His scar. His wrist. The cotton pajama pants he’s wearing look like they do nothing to keep out the cold, as well; while the white tank is a whole different story. It tells Tony, explicitly, that something is amiss.

 

Harley never wore much less than a long sleeves, and that includes his night clothes. He had a t-shirt or two, but barely wore them. The one time Tony saw him in one, he’d been clutching his wrist as if it’d infect those who saw it. It was barely ever anymore that he walked around without the hologram glasses Tony had made for him, even with the walls being able to project the same image. This version of Harley was not the same. His jump was inhuman, it sharing more qualities with something Peter would pull in the field. ( Peter would have none of the grace, though, and that may be a singular glaring difference. ) He asked the question too-calm, and Tony used a lot of willpower to not look down at the bite. He could see it from the corner of his eye, the area a shiny pink with how it scarred over, and the main part of it having taken up a good amount of his forearm.

 

Harley’s red eyes were pliant, waiting. Tony remembered he was asked a question. “I’m fine; just looking for you.” He feigned calm, pushing a calculated worry into his tone. “What are you doing up here, kid? You have school in an hour and you’re still not dressed.” 

 

He didn’t chastise, just asked like a real genuine question -- which it was. Tony just wanted to push overly-calm to not freak Harley out, because maybe he was the one overreacting. It was possible but…what was he doing on the roof?

 

There was also something off with how he was presenting himself, very unlike his usual demeanor but with an essence Tony couldn’t quite name. “I was…” Harley started but trailed off, taking a moment to look around. His hands don't move from their sides, but one twitched, almost imperceivable if Tony wasn’t trying to catalog all of his movements. This was very abnormal. He couldn’t seem to find what he was looking for, but this time when he looked up, Harley’s stare was blank. “Getting some air.” He settled.

 

It didn’t sound very convincing, and Tony was a little more than worried the more he let his mind wonder. He didn’t want to think Harley would do anything bad, but this seemed like a whole different front, and the only thing he could think of was vampire media -- since he couldn't recall anything from the ‘parenting’ book. Yes, he knew his kid wasn't like that and they already figured out the media was vastly wrong, but Tony’s thoughts were quite human in how his hindbrain assumed the worst. Harley didn’t look like he was in control at all, if he had to apply what he’d seen in the media, and that worried him for multiple reasons. His only solace was the knowledge there was no blood on him, and there was a small blood box beside where his slippers were set.

 

“Come downstairs?” It came out more like an offer, and Harley easily accepted. He turned to grab his shoes and the carton, and followed Tony inside. 

 

Tony left Harley on the third floor with the bedrooms, and when the elevator shut he went right back to the first. Everything about seeing Harley had made him tense with nerves, and when he strode into the kitchen it was well evident on his features. Pepper noticed immediately, having seemingly slowed her coffee-making process. Still, now she was steaming milk, looking at the door upon his entry.

 

“Was everything okay?” She inquired, turning off the steamer, then. It was a little hesitant, but concerned nonetheless. 

 

Tony tried to gather his thoughts, “He was… acting a little off.” Pepper tilted her head, as if to prompt him onward. ”Wasn’t wearing long sleeves, jumped six feet into the air out of convenience, and he didn’t really seem to know why he was up there.”

 

His fiancée seemed to absorb the information with a careful look, something Tony knew meant she was thinking hard about the situation. Pepper hadn't read the book Strange gave them in the same way Tony had, definitely not cover to cover with thinly veiled compulsive obsession, but she’d ask he and F.R.I.D.A.Y. questions. She understood about the instincts, but this was unlike anything she’d read so far. Despite knowing Tony would likely remember if it was in the book, she still prompted the A.I..

 

“Friday, does the book say anything about that?” She inquired, not having to specify which book. Unspoken, they knew it was related to his vampirism. While the world was filled with possibilities, metaphysical threats have been few and far between, and the strange personality was much unlike Harley. The boy wore his heart on his sleeve, and often told them everything. This was not that.

 

“ In the section labeled ‘Instinct Changes’, the manual specifies that the fledgling might be beside themselves upon heightened feelings of comfort. Oftentimes, this is said to result in them portraying abnormal behavior. ” F.R.I.D.A.Y. paused, as if to let her artificial words sink in. “ Abnormal behaviour can also be caused by fear, similar to panic attacks, but that can be attributed to chittering. ”

 

Tony would define what he just saw a lot of ways. Unsettling, worrying, abnormal-- he knew lots of words that would work. He didn't think comfort was one of them. And, a panic attack didn't seem right, either.

 

“Chittering?” Pepper questioned.

 

“ Chittering, as the manual defines, is a low chuffing sound at the back of the throat. It's a way of comforting fledglings. Without a sire, fledglings will instinctively do it to self-soothe. ” She answers easily, but Tony’s heart almost sinks at the admission. Even if it didn't sound like what he was doing, the thought of his kid even possibly having to do that was heartbreaking. Strange had told him it would be difficult for Harley, since he didn't have one, but it hurt Tony all the same at the reminder.

 

Pepper looked to Tony, still thoughtful, with an expression as if to ask if either description sounded correct. Tony shook his head. She shrunk slightly, leaning onto the metal counters at her hip and sipped her coffee once -- a contrast to the woman she was for Stark Industries and the general public. A side she let very few people see. “Should we ask Strange?” She mulled over.

 

That seemed much for a, so far, one off thing. But… “If he’s not back to his usual self by tonight we should think about it, but we should talk to him first. It might just be the stress from yesterday.” 

 

Pepper bit the inside of her cheek, “Okay.”

 

Harley came down a few moments later, acting right as rain, and both unrealizingly sighed in relief. Tony drove him to school, and upon dropping him off told Harley that Spider-man would once again be in the area to bring him home. He also reminded him about dinner.

 

It was true, Peter was off from school early and would be in Manhattan and heading to the Stark Industries buildings for his actual intern work, which wasn't that far from the edge of Lincoln Square. He seemed to like helping Harley, asked after him a lot. And, with general knowledge of the, frankly alarming, ‘situations’ Harley had ended up in recently, Peter was more than happy to escort him home.

 

It warmed Tony’s heart knowing they were getting along.

 

♡

It’s that morning when Harley feels sluggish and slow when he's headed to school. He remembers waking up early, after his nightmare, but he wasn't tired then. Either way, he was exhausted by the time he reentered his room. 

 

He was very lucky that picking some clothes were pretty easy with his huge closet, it took him less than ten minutes to find something . A black chiffon button-down with a matching coloured longsleeve beneath, and very simple black slacks. He kept the shirt half-buttoned to leave a place for his necklace, and picked to wear the same cufflinks he’d gotten for the masquerade ball. He didn't use the earrings or accessorize much otherwise, but did put on his necklace like it was second nature.

 

With his hair down and his shirt half-tucked, it looked cool but not completely casual. He decided his converse would be fine and, at the very least, dampen how dressed up he was while being within the confines of the dress code. 

 

He was so tired he’d almost forgotten his glasses and phone, but remembered as soon as he reached the elevator, and was able to get them before he went down.

 

Tony ended up driving him to school, really an uneventful car ride but he knew it made Tony the tiniest less worried. He’d dropped Harley off with no major fanfare. Pepper had poured something for him to drink just as he’d been getting downstairs, and thankfully it seemed to help minutely with his tire. Not fully, though. Not enough for Mrs Reid’s class, with another several pages of notes. 

 

Gwen and Harry had seen and greeted him easily, but Gwen also looked somewhat dead on her feet so it was a very silent understanding. She had something dark iced in hand and was sipping on it like her life depended on it, but based on smell alone, when they approached after class, he could tell it was mostly coffee. Probably espresso shots, and multiple of them. With an underbelly of sugar’s sweetness.

 

“Hey, Harley.” Harry greeted, while Gwen gave a halfhearted wave. 

 

Harley waved back, wordless but still in kind. At first, he really assumed Harry would leave the interaction there, given he looked down at his phone for a moment, but the second after he clicked it off and flashed a small smirk that told Harley all he needed.

 

“How was ‘getting taken home by Spider-man’?” He teased, slipping his phone then into the inner pocket of his blazer. Harley wasn't as attuned to the outside temperature physically, but he knew it was a tad warm for the jacket. Granted, he couldn’t say anything since he looked no different with his longsleeve, but he wondered if it was ever an issue -- or, if he wore anything besides the whole ensemble. With it, he looked too smug in the relaxed suit, and Harley was ever too tired for it. Either way, it was much cooler than it ought to be this time of year already -- news saying a cold front had started coming through early -- so it was yet to be for anyone to comment on their independently odd choices.

 

Though, at the reminder, Harley felt flush. Embarrassed,  almost, in a familiar way that left him feeling a little lightheaded and like all of his words would come out a jumbled mess. Harley, however, was a master of both deflection and great at a poker face. ( He hoped. )

 

“It was fine.” He didn't elaborate, but it may have come out too quick to be believable. Gwen’s tired eyes perked up and she raised a brow. Okay, maybe he wasn't as good as he thought. Backtrack. “I mean- he's a superhero, how is it supposed to go?” Harley took to exaggerating. Harry seems to see right through him, though, and the fledgling in him squeaks something indignant internally, but Harley doesn't know if it's siding with or against him.

 

Gwen gives him a flat look. “ ‘Fine?’ Dude, you looked like you were about to swoon.”

 

Harley’s mouth drops, meaning to reply, but the memory is right there when he blinks and it isn't very helpful. It's a beat too slow, and Gwen giggles -- giggles! -- when he finally figures something to say. “I just- was admirin’ him- er, he’s a superhero, like I said. 'S completely normal.” It's a very weak excuse, and both parties can tell.

 

“I mean, if it makes you feel any better, he had his eyes on you the whole time.” Harry definitely dramatizes, shrugging his brows up once as a show of amusement. 

 

Harley doesn't think Spider-man was. He remembered how he politely greeted Gwen and Harry, how he checked on the girl, and he didn't catch any lingering glances. Harry was definitely just saying things. Harley rolled his eyes. “As if.” And then, just to pacify that small part of his mind that tries suctioning to the idea, “Plus, he was probably just checkin’ me over. Makin' sure I was okay. All innocent.” He ardently ignores Gwen’s half voiced addition of ‘Or checking you out’ , and doesn't dignify it with acknowledgement. Otherwise, his tone portrays false calm, something learned from Tony, and though neither obviously believe him, Harry ends it there.

 

“Whatever you say.” He conceives dubiously, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. He has that knowing smirk on his face, to which Harley rolls his eyes.

 

Harley decides that's as much as he might get, and takes out his phone to absently check the time. They still have a few minutes until homeroom should be over, and with how sluggish he was feeling that morning, he assumes the day will feel quite long. He also notes how there are a few messages from the study group chat, and he gets distracted by tapping on it.

 

.

 

MJ

@hawkshot thinking of you <3

[ ATTACHED IMAGE: A tiger plush with a yellow necktie sitting on a classroom desk, zoomed in. ]

 

hawkshot

ANZHIQNZHAKNZJA

MJ

WHAT THE HELL

 

MJ

yk you're supposed to lock a locker

 

hawkshot

I DID??

 

MJ

not rlly tho 

lol

 

.

 

Harley has no clue what any of that means, but still lets out an amused huff. He’s starting to learn what exactly the ‘tiger heist’ is, and it very plainly consists of a small tiger plush going back and forth between the Midtown and Socrates students. Gwen looks over his shoulder at the sound, and lets out an over-dramatic scoff of indignation.

 

“It should be illegal to carry around lock picks.” Gwen hmphs, and Harry levels her with a look. 

 

“You were literally talking about homicide yesterday and yet the line is at lock picks?” He questions, single brow raised. 

 

Gwen's shoots a glare at Harry. “I was totally in the right for that, by the way--”

 

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Harry cuts her off but she keeps going.

 

“--And second of all, MJ has the tiger. So, yes, obviously. Also, unrelated, I think we forgot to ask Peter about Johnny yesterday.” Gwen switches the conversation so fast Harley feels a little dizzy, but she turns on her heel and looks right at him, while Harry looks like this is something that has happened a million times before. Harley has only known her for a pretty short time, but he can almost guarantee she has A.D.H.D. or something of the like. 

 

She purses her lips, but Harley shrugs it off. “It’s fine. Johnny Storm is the least of my issues.” He lies. Because, now that he's thinking about it, he wonders how much Spider-man knows about him. If he's the talk of the superhero circuit, like Gwen implied, he wonders what comes with that. Also, was Johnny Storm friends with Spider-man? Did he think Harley was messaging him? Not that it mattered. He was just curious.

 

Gwen goes on, despite his falsified assurance. “I can probably text him. Or, actually, I think we're going out tonight.” She debates, with an expression obviously lost in thought. “I mean, I’m sure it's true. Johnny does talk you up to his sister, I know for sure. She once told me how much she likes the tech you put out for Stark Industries.”

 

There were… so many things to unpack from her seemingly flippant words. Harley never thought he’d live in New York with thousands of people knowing who he was, majorly superheroes, and especially not ones who were impressed by him. Or, ones that thought he was interesting enough to make up a rumour that they were friends -- which, admittedly was weird, but Johnny was that type of pretty that let him get away with a lot of things like that, without anyone questioning him. Also, Susan Storm? Invisible Girl? Yes, he now knew Gwen and all their friends knew Johnny in some capacity, but the given information was still slightly jarring for her to say it so casually. But , he assumed that's how he sounded to most people. He was Tony Stark’s kid, by all legal measures, and was close enough to see him before coffee and perfect Armani suits. 

 

“Right. Okay.” Was all he could say while he tried possessing things. It's not like he hadn't met Susan Storm the same night he met Johnny, but he was definitely awestruck by her and Reed Richards -- especially since the interaction was much more formal of that with Johnny. 

 

Harry let out a soft laugh, thinking then of something, before he decided to share. “You know, Harley, it kind of feels like you’re collecting heroes like pokemon. Johnny, Spidey, Ghost-spider --  and the other vigilantes I saw you talking to at the gala.”

 

Harley doesn't know what exactly to reply, because when simply put he has spoken to quite a few. The lines of his life are, ever-so obviously, braided into the strands of heroes and villains. It simultaneously makes him want to flush with what an honour it could be seen as, and clutch his fists in fear. It doesn't help that he remembered how he's having dinner with Captain America that evening. He was offered the opportunity to stay upstairs, but he's just a tad too nosey and wants to know the ins-and-outs. How do heroes have fights that last months, just to be seemingly fine after being brought back together by alien warlords? Tony hated Steve Rogers for a time being, but dinner is definitely much, and the entirety of it makes too many emotions run though Harley's mind. He doesn't know if he’d want to be a hero, though it was a pipe dream once upon a time, but what choice did he have? Tony has joked about him not wanting Harley to be like him, and he’s glad to sit on the sidelines, but the sidelines harbour too many wonderings. It's a true statement, on all accounts, so why does it feel like Harley’s sealed his fate? 

 

He knows, god he knows, he has abilities now. Akin to something mutant and overly strong, and he wonders if it makes him a bad person to not at least offer help. He’s been close to a ‘damsel in distress’ more than once since getting bit. Would those vigilantes protect him? Would they eventually find out what he was? How would they react to his inability? He has speed beyond anything he can measure, enhanced senses and tough skin -- literally -- is befriending them getting him one step closer to heroism?

 

He doesn't know, and luckily the bell rings before he can think further. Amicably, he says goodbye to Gwen and Harry, rolling his eyes at the other teen’s joke as if it didn't take him more than a few seconds to answer.

 

Somehow, Harley feels more tired arriving in his next class.

 

♡

 

Harley ends up forgetting what Tony told him that morning, about who exactly was picking him up. Somehow he got lost in the day. By the time lunch rolled around, he was much more awake, and he ended up having a very long session of complaining about Mrs Reid’s class to Kate. Kate agreed with him wholeheartedly, and also asked to get a look at his notes early since she has Reid’s class the next day. After that, Spanish went pretty well -- he was complimented on his accent which was nice since he didn't assume much good of it -- and Gwen met him in the class after, talking his ear off in the best way. 

 

So it was no wonder why, when he walked outside, he had a brief moment of trying to remember who was supposed to pick him up. The memory is definitely a little fuzzy, but he tries mentally dusting off the tendrils of sleep-fog that still cling to the memory. Gwen is waving Harry over to them since they exited the building together, and they're standing outside. When Harley looks up, trying to remember and half debating on pulling out his phone, it seems most of the other students have already either walked off or got picked up. Only a couple groups are still waiting around, talking to friends and the like.

 

He turns on his phone, maybe to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. since she might have overheard in the car. Harley clicks the small app-like icon he uses for the A.I.’s commands, and shoots off a quick message if she knows. It comes back quickly that she doesn't, but had messages Pepper about it in the same beat. Waiting for the response, he pulls down his notifications tab and starts to look through them. It should only take a second for Pepper to respond, she's never taken much time before. 

 

His notifications are a lot of random things. Calendar updates, new assignments via Canvas , a few twitter notifications, and a handful of news stories from an app he’d downloaded just the day before. Twitter is just Abby’s reposts, as usual, but the news stories are mildly interesting -- some alarming, but that's really not new. Some talk about the situations from the other day. Wilson Fisk’s prison break, the Baxter Building going up in flames, more sightings of the Green Goblin. All bad looking, and Harley was about to put his phone away once more when something else caught his eye. 

 

A casual news story, headlined “SUPERHERO ROMANCE” which makes him pause in curiosity and basically forces him to click the pop-up. Click-bait, yellow journalism, it's all the same.

 

Johnny Storm is at the steps of the Baxter building, alongside the rest of the four. But, he's at the centre. He looks a little worse for wear, but otherwise fine. The Photo is dated as the day before, taken at the press conference the heroes had held. Three other heroes stand in the photo, as well. Daredevil, Ghost-spider, and Captain America himself. While the rest of the heroes look vaguely forward, towards the assumed press, Johnny’s are trained on Ghost-spider. 

 

It was… sickening, to say the least. Out of touch, too. Basic speculation that because Johnny Storm was looking at her the whole time, and Ghost-spider helping him stand a few times throughout the conference, that they were together. Or, at least, crushing on each other. It was absolutely ridiculous how they focused on the nature of the two’s relationship, rather than on the fact of the explosion. He didn't read a whole lot, but one of their ‘key points’ was how Ghost had stabilized Johnny at one point, so he wouldn't fall, while his team was right there. Yeah, it was odd, but honestly explainable, Harley was sure.

 

Slightly annoyed, Harley clicked off his phone. When he glanced up, Harry was already looking right at him. Questioning concern swirling around his eyes. “What's up?” He asked, likely in reference to Harley shoving his phone into his pocket, with no limit of force.

 

Harley waved him off. “‘S nothin’. News stories. Some people are actually so out of touch it's insane.” He commented, half dramatically, despite saying it was nothing.

 

Gwen snorted. “No, for real though.” Harry silently agreed with their sentiment. And, while Harry hadn't asked further, Gwen prompted, “What was it, this time?”

 

Harley gave a long suffering sigh. “The Baxter Building goes up in flames, and people are more worried about if The Human Torch and Ghost-spider are a thing.” He didn't know how much they knew about the incident, but it was national news. He didn't bring it up after he learned they were all friends with Johnny, but it was very obviously huge despite having no casualties. 

 

Gwen's eyes widened, though, and it made Harley question if she’d known. Of course she should've known about the Baxter Building, but for a fleeting moment all evidence proved questionable at best. “ Johnny ? I- really ? What could possibly make them think that?” She balked. Harry looked similarly confused, but with a dry mask of amusement dusted over his features. He seemed to always be in a similar sort of state.

 

Harley waved his phone vaguely, nose somewhat scrunched. “There was, like, a press conference about what happened at the Baxter Building, and some folks were sayin’ he was lookin’ at her the whole time. And, she was helpin’ him when his team was closer.” He summarized, not bothering to cover thinly veiled disdain for the authors. 

 

Gwen scoffs, looking away as if trying to fathom in what world the reporters would make sense. Harley held the same sentiment. “What was she supposed to do? Let him fall? She has better reflexes than the four, combined .” She shuts her eyes for a beat, opens them just as quickly. “Or- at least that's what I’ve heard.”

 

“I’m sure she is.” Harry concedes, “The press, is the press, is the press. They’ll never once use their frontal lobe for anything useful.” He puts a hand on Gwen’s side, above her hip. Given the nature of their conversation in the first place, he didn't give it a second thought. Friends could be just that close, and it really didn't matter. Gwen sunk into the touch, ever so slightly, but rolled her eyes at the mention of press.

 

“I will genuinely never understand how Johnny puts up with those sharks.” She smiles something small, “He’s probably getting a kick outta this, though.”

 

Harry lets out an amused huff. “Oh definitely.”

 

Harley’s phone chimes his hand, causing the two to look over at him, somewhat curious. He opens his phone, spotting immediately a message from Pepper telling him-- Harley had to do a double take. He definitely should’ve been listening when Tony told him who was picking him up. Really.

 

Spider-man is en route from the towers. He says he’ll 'find you’ so just stay with your friends until then. 

 

And then another,

 

Stay safe on your way home. Love you! 

 

Harley balked, and expectantly Gwen asked what was the matter. He blinked twice and instead of speaking flipped over his phone for her to glance at. It's mind boggling for once to see Spider-man, something else to have a special favour called in for what Harley assumed would be a one-time-thing. But, two days in a row? Spider-man, a superhero who does real superhero things, like deal with alien invasions and huge lizards, instead was picking him up from school . 

 

Yeah, it happened the day before, but those were extrenuating circumstances -- he was sure Spidey would’ve at least walked home anyone who asked, if they felt unsafe, but this thing pretending to be casual? It made Harley’s head spin a little. Spider-man was supposed to be a Queens superhero, patrolling the borough neighbourhoods and stopping crime out there . Spider-man was not really supposed to be roaming Lincoln Square to escort Tony Stark’s adopted kid home on a Friday afternoon. That was not normal. 

 

Harley was very thankful he was unable to flush, because holy hell. Spider-man. The image of his bloody body only lingered for seconds, this time, as instead the memories of Spider-man saving him filled the forefront of his mind. Spider-man talking to him that day in Happy’s office. Knowing the hero had saved him before. Knowing Tony already thought so highly of him -- which was great praise already, from the genius inventor. 

 

The day prior, on the rooftop and looking toward the city, wondering how it’d look at night. Spider-man having swung him there, being held in his arms. The day prior, working on his tech -- the thought of showing him that felt both embarrassing and exhilarating. 

 

Spider-man, the hero. The good hero. Who stuck up for ‘the little guy’, and patrolled Queens because it was the irrevocably right and kind thing to do. Gosh , did it count as a celebrity crush if he knew him in real life? What were they; friends or acquaintances at best?

 

“Oh my god.” Gwen breathed out amusedly, jaw dropping. 

 

Harry smirked, jovial. “Well, Keener, I think your bad flirting worked.” 

 

“My what ?” He squawked, as if that wasn't exactly what yesterday brought. Okay , maybe it wasn't actually wise to show those two the tidbit of information, remembering then their morning conversation, still a fuzzy memory with how tired he’d been. Harry raised both brows, wordless and unbelieving. “I was not flirting with him.” He lied. Like a liar.

 

Harley felt like Harry could see him on a petri dish, obvious enough to read every thought going through his head -- or, somewhat every thought. Though, a small part of Harley told him that Harry would be likely to figure the rest out, and he had to be careful. He seemed overly observant, and that was dangerous. But for now, all it did was expose his very small -- minuscule, really -- maybe crush on Spider-man. 

 

“I mean, I don't think I’d really call what you were doing 'flirting’--” Gwen started, Harley pointedly gestured to her as if to say ‘see!’, but she went on. “But it was definitely an attempt .”

 

Harley sputters, feeling somewhat betrayed. “This is completely unfair.” He states petulantly. For the record, he was in fact badly flirting. He could do better, he has done better, but the day prior was a fluke. Harley doesn't know why it really happened. He just wasn't on his ‘A-game’. To rectify, he mutters, “I could totally flirt with Spidey if I tried. Better.”

 

“Better implies there was a before.” Harry reminds. 

 

Harley glares. It barely holds a candle to a child’s own, looking akin more like an annoyed cat than something menacing. Harley doesn't know that. “Oh hush, you.” Harry laughs with a knowing smirk. He's always smirking, it seems.

 

“You should, though.” Gwen interjects. Harley’s brain blanked as soon as he told off Harry, so he turned his head in question. “Flirt with him.” She clarifies. “I mean, if you like him. And, it's not like you’re strangers. He works with your dad and it's not like he's totally unobtainable. I saw him swing into a billboard before, he's really, like, just a guy.”

 

Harley’s jaw? On the floor. Like him? It's a celebrity crush ( Though, he's still internally debating if that's a technical term for whatever they are… ) and somehow the way she said it made things worse. Spider-man works with Tony. Actively. Surely that's got to be some sort of ‘conflict of interest’. Gwen is just staring at him as if that isn't somewhat insane to even consider, but as soon as he attempts to speak, timing decides it's not on his side.

 

Behind Gwen, in the distance, he sees a certain webbing hero making his way through the weaving streets. Enough distance between them so he knows, he hopes , the hero didn't hear even with enhanced senses, but not enough to ease his worries. Harley’s mouth snaps shut either way. Harry catches it immediately, and turns to peer past Gwen, too.

 

He snickers, “Speak of the devil.”

 

Gwen lights up at that, and turns similarly. Only a few students are lingering much longer, handfuls at best since most rushed out as soon as the bell rang. Those two lingered were similarly in small groups, like the three of them. Spider-man landed on the building over, on the side, and immediately crawled up the side. Eventually, perching on the corner pillar, looking down at the block as a whole. It took no time for him to spot their little group. He waved.

 

Gwen and Harry waved back immediately, while it took Harley a beat to get with the program and follow suit. He looked at his suit, and patted himself down to come up empty handed. He visibly deflated, not unlike an animated character. 

 

“What is he doing?” Harry wondered aloud.

 

looked up, and pulled onto one of his metal arms until it detached, and morphed into something else in his hand. If Harley saw right, it was a phone. He waved that around in his next movement, twice, before he started using it to gesticulate typing -- or actually type, but it was overly dramatic. When he looked back up, it was clear he wanted something from him with how his sclera slow-blinked, which was in fact visible from where they stood. They were huge on his head.

 

Harley looked down at his phone, since it was still in his hands, but there was nothing. Spider-man looked back up, pointing at the phone dramatically. Gwen and Harry, in turn, looked down at their own.

 

“Oh.” Gwen started, “He said ‘Come to parking thing’ - Parking garage?” She sighed and rolled her eyes, turning back to him and Harry. “Parking garage.” She told them.

 

“Eloquent.” Harry commented dryly. He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, nodding forward as a gesture for them to start walking. Gwen messaged something back, but walked over all the same. Harley followed.

 

He looked up a few times, watching the spider themed vigilante on his perch, while trying to keep his mind from wandering to his conversations with Gwen and Harry. Spider-man kept peering down at him, sitting in a way that had to be uncomfortable holding for so long. The walk was barely a few moments, the garage was just across the street. As soon as they jumped the small wall, Spider-man followed. From his perch he leaped, and landed gracefully in a way that left Harley in awe. He thought that type of move, though very fluid, was probably very difficult. Looked cool, though. But like, just the normal amount. Harley didn’t hyperfocus on it because he had a crush. One step forward three steps back; he did not have a crush on Spider-man. Celebrity crushes were more like infatuation. This was all that was. Spider-man was cool. A hero. ( Oh god, Spider-man was looking right at him-- )

 

The hero landed right beside Harry’s Ferrari. His Pista Spider, Harley could honestly swoon then and there. It took absolutely too much effort to look at Spider-man instead. “A spider and a spider.” He commented, knowing it was very likely that only Harry would understand his joke, but hoping maybe Spidey would. 

 

He was wrong, Gwen lit up once more. “Thats what I’ve been saying!” She laughed. Harry rolled his eyes amusedly, like he’d heard the sentiment a thousand times over. She turned to Spider-man. “A spider-spider-mobile would be hilarious. Come-on.”

 

“Stacy, the Bugel barely likes when I do my job in the first place, I really don’t think they’d allow Spider-man a car . Or, a licence , for that matter.” He pointed out.

 

“The Bugle can suck it. Also, Mr Stark seems like the kind of guy who’d think its funny enough to help legalize, I’m just saying.” She held her hands up placatingly, 

 

It felt a little weird to have Tony brought up so-casually in no-relation to him, but Gwen had gone on like it was a second nature conversion. Harry, all the while, unlocked his car and took the top down. He set his backpack down, and while Gwen spoke, took her bag as well, setting it beside his own in the back. She barely noticed as the two spoke logistics of a spider-car. And, despite starting the conversation, Harley focused on Harry, watched him sit down before even joining back into the chaos.

 

“Spider wheels? Do those even exist?” Spider-man questioned dubiously. 

 

“I’m sure they do!” Gwen insisted.

 

“Yep, okay, uh-huh.” He sounded like he didn't believe her one bit.

 

“You're just anti- style .”

 

Spider-man ghasped. “I am so stylish; you take that back!”

 

“Jeans and a t-shirt isn't style.”

 

“It is so!”

 

They bickered like children. They also oddly sounded like they knew each other pretty well, which didn't quite fit well into his working theory on everything. He didn't quite want to outright ask , but some things had him questioning. Instead of lingering, he glanced back at Harry with a raised brow, and he just shrugged. Similarly, he cleared his throat to end the short squabble.

 

Both paused, given the sound wasn't very natural -- Harry didn't try for it to be -- and they turned toward him with similar slow movements. As if they’d been two caught cats. Gwen’s expression was sheepish, and Harley could only assume Spider-man’s was the same.

 

“Spider-man, I believe you have a job to be doing?” He asked, faux kindly. He also sent a wink toward Harley, which read as nothing good. 

 

Comraderous, joking between friends while still being somewhat firm. Harry was definitely also a close friend of the hero. But, Peter wasn't? Harley wondered why that was. Did they not get along? Perhaps a jealousy thing? Both working for Tony. Harley would have to admit, he was the same for a time being. Spider-man was so much to live up to, with how Tony talked about him, and a bubbling sort of resentment simmered for a while. That was fleeting, for the most part. Overall amazement of superheroes in general won over that, as soon as he landed in New York. Or maybe he just didn’t want to over-expose the hero to a retrospective stranger. 

 

“Right,” Spider-man agreed, sheepish. “Right,” He spun toward Harley. “Your dad will be home soon, we should go.”

 

Harley nodded, not denying Tony as his dad. He understood quickly that if he corrected everyone, he would be left doing it his whole life. Also, it really didn’t matter, since he was as close to a dad as he would ever get. ( Plus, it made the fledgling in him trill in satisfaction, something that sent pseudo warmth to his heart -- but he’d never admit that. ) Gwen, beside Spider-man, straightened and seemed to check herself for her bag. She patted herself down, before looking over to Harry’s car, and smiling when she saw Harry pointing at it -- having noticed her confusion as well. She didn’t bother opening the car door, and instead jumped over and in.

 

“Cya,” Spider-man waved. Harley copied the sentiment.

 

Gwen wiggled her fingers, waving back. “Bye-ee.”

 

Harry gave a two fingered salute, but once his hand was back on the wheel, the Ferrari was moving. Harley huffed lightly, and made eye contact with Spider-man, in turn. The hero was already looking at him, peering with bug-eyed white sclera.

 

“Let's get going?” Asked the hero. So earnest. So sincere. So kind. It took actual effort to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. Celebrity Crush? He could work with that. It was a puppy crush, max. Easy to fall, easy to get over. Right? “It’s a little colder than it was yesterday, so I was thinking we could walk instead. ‘Don’t want you getting too cold,” He laughed off. And, while normally Harley would think it as Tony’s worries bleeding through his coworkers, it seemed different.

 

‘ If it makes you feel any better, he had his eyes on you the whole time ’ Harry had said, voice ringing through Harley’s mind in a way that made him practically doll-dizzy for a certain spider-themed hero. He knew, deep down, Harry must’ve been lying with all that. Gwen and her ideas, too. He did not like Spider-man like that -- not enough for him to ask out the hero -- and Spider-man definitely didn’t like him back. Romantically or otherwise. The odds of Spider-man even liking men was very low. Harley had to mentally shake himself from the thoughts. 

 

“Course.” Harley replied, not minding the small trek back. He normally had to walk around Rose Hill growing up in the first place, and it was barely a mile home. Plus, it was likely true. Over the last few days, the temperature had started to drop, and he was sure it was likely due to an overly-early cold front. Harley could feel it, sort of, but it didn’t affect him the same -- comparatively, though, he liked the heat better. He could never really shake the already ever-present cold from his bones. That being said, he’d largely gotten used to it, in an uncomfortable but livable sort of way. 

 

Spider-man smiled, and Harley could see the corners of his cheeks through the mask, forming the sweet thing. Harley smiled back, in kind. He offered a hand, overexaggerative which made the vampire huff out a laugh. It was playful, light, and showed the type of person Spider-man was beneath the mask. Showed why he definitely got along with Gwen and Harry so much, just by the small action. 

 

“Shall we?” Spider-man prompted, hand still out and waiting. Harley didn’t answer verbally, instead slipping his hand into the hero’s. It was a joke, but Harley felt his little puppy crush warm, in a way that probably would be bad in the long run. The sweet trilling from the fledgling inside of him was enough to hide all worries, in an odd turn, and Harley was too caught up to worry about any of it. It should’ve scared him. 

 

It would’ve, any other day.

 

♡

 

When they turned onto the street, Harley was fully laughing in a way he hadn't in a long, long, time. 

 

“-And so with Deadpool being literally no help, Double-Dee had to explain to the Chief of police how exactly a casing had fallen into his coffee. Genuinely the craziest thing I’d ever witnessed before nine in the morning.” He explained, a grin shining through his words. “Daredevil actually says it's why he works ‘alone’ but, like, between you and me, I think Ghost is working with him most days.”

 

Harley quarked a brow. “Really? They both seem like polar opposites.” He questioned.

 

“Exactly,” Spider-man put out a finger as if to say ‘point’. “But, he acts the same as one of her closest friends, so she's really used to all the ‘dark and brooding’-ness.” The hero pointed out amused, as if behind it was some sort of inside joke. Harley didn't even think of asking about it, given secret identities and all. He watched enough Justice League and Batman growing up that he knew it was just one of those things.

 

Harley hummed. “Wow, I would've never pegged her as the type.”

 

“Oh trust me,” Spider-man laughed. “Ghost is oddly adaptable. She's friends with, like, really unlikely people.” 

 

Harley’s mind flickered to the headline he saw earlier, Ghost-spider and The Human Torch. He’d only met both twice, but he couldn't even imagine them in the same capacity. But, in the same vein, books and Tv-shows always had the happy-go-lucky characters befriend the most unlikely of people, and he could only assume that those writers hadn't gotten it far off.

 

“And she patrols like you do, right?” He wondered aloud, not remembering in the moment if he’d actually gotten that information organically or just thought it up. He assumed she did, at least; thought he might’ve heard it somewhere.

 

Spider-man nodded. “‘Mostly. She's has a much more ‘in the shadows’ type vibe, though. But, she's on assignment more than I am, so sometimes I take over here for a night or two.”

 

Spider-man, laying in a pool of his own blood -- was that what that was? Harley forced it out of his mind. He didn't ask about it, and turned his head forward and towards the direction of Tony’s brownstone. He would've replied with something to simply move the conversation along or of understanding to soon change the topic, but the choice was taken from him. A car was parked outside, and somehow in his walk over he’d almost forgotten Pepper and Tony’s dinner plans. Dinner company, that was.

 

“Oh, they're here already.” He said, dumbly. A break in their earlier conversation.

 

“Huh?” Spider-man turned, “Oh, Cap. They're having dinner, I forgot.” He sounded a little shocked.

 

Harley nodded, wordless. He knew Spider-man was there during the fight in Leipzig, and he knew Tony had told him he regretted doing that as soon as it happened, but it also meant the hero probably knew what happened between the two. He knew about the Winter Soldier being framed, the Accords being needed, but the something that happened between Germany and the Rogues becoming internationally wanted was gone on him. He assumed it was Steve, quite honestly, but he’d never asked further than once in fear of sending Tony panicking. He had learned his lesson from that. When Tony visited not long after, he spent about a month in Rose Hill before having to attend a wedding overseas, only after which he’d be going back to New York. 

 

Apparently, during that time, he was having his things moved from Avengers Tower into The Stark Manor, and sold the building back to Stark Industries. Nothing was really the same after that. The building had remained mostly storage, lights off, and ‘AVENGERS’ removed from the side of the building. Two of the new buildings had already existed for Stark Industries, but public relations and advertising was moved to the third as soon as construction ended. Everything seemed kind of rushed, though, so he knew whatever happened was nothing pretty. Plus, Tony was normally over-impulsive in the first place, but somehow having to find out Pepper and Tony were engaged from media outlets definitely took the cake. 

 

Somehow, world-threatening scenarios always seemed to fall on the worst times, though, since they were still not married. But, that was besides the point. Steve had been a central problem, and Harley didn't quite know how to act around that subject.

 

With the car out front -- a blue Jeep. And, getting closer, he saw a row of ducks sitting on the dash. A sunpass in the corner of the windshield, but otherwise was painfully basic. An everyday person would have the same kind of car. 

 

“They are. But, I’m kinda wondering, now, if it's too late to stay in my room all evening…” Harley trailed off sardonically, not particularly wanting to deal with the ‘palpable tension’, as Rhodey would call it. 

 

Spider-man huffed, humourless but trying for something light. “A bit, yeah.” He put a casual hand on Harley’s shoulder, something that he couldn't feel between the layers of suit and cloth, but burned in a way that was definitely subdermal. “But, hey, if you do get away and need some company, I’m in the area.” He offered, letting Harley’s eyes meet his lenses for a moment. 

 

They paused momentarily on the sidewalk, and Harley didn't realize when he started smiling. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Spider-man looked away once more, setting his best foot forward. “Friday can get ahold of my AI just fine, but I can give you my number if it'll be easier?” Ernist once more, genuine in a way Harley could only ever hope to be. Casual. Asking for his number.

 

“That’d be great, actually. Awesome.” He was not being cool, but he was trying. If Harley could blush, his face would be beat red -- and in some sort of way he could feel genuine warmth flood his cheeks in a way he didn't even know was possible for him. It was very foreign, and felt obvious, but he really hoped somehow it wasn't and Spider-man didn't notice. He fished for his phone, knowing he probably resembled whatever kind of person he was the day before, talking to the hero. “Here,” 

 

Harley handed over the item, and Spider-man took it in his hand for only a second. He muttered something behind the mask -- even with Harley hearing it was quite muffled so close -- and handed it back a moment later. “Karen should've programmed it all. It's new Stark Tech, actually.”

 

“That's cool. Tony has a ton of ideas like that.” He wasn't really thinking of Tony, though, as he said it. He was thinking of Spider-man. The hero. His not-real-crush-but-only-puppy-crush, having given him his phone number. Oh god this was gonna make him swoon worse than Harry’s car, sleek and beautiful as it was. 

 

All too soon they stood outside of Harley's front door. Spider-man insisted on seeing him to the threshold, and Harley said goodbye once more as the door opened. He shut it, looked down at his phone -- not on, but just the thought of Spider-man’s number was still something -- and smiled something private before schooling his expression. He could hear talking in the main living room that hadn't ceased, and wondered if he should say ‘hi’ before setting his stuff in his room. He decided the answer should be simple, just in case F.R.I.D.A.Y. already announced him arrived.

 

♡

 

When Harley walked into the room, Tony’s head snapped up to greet him. He looked a lot more alive than that morning, in a way he couldn't describe. He was smiling kindly in greeting. Both Steve and James also looked over, but Harley’s eyes lingered on the latter for an extended beat. 

 

“Hey, kid. You get home okay?” Tony asked, turning fully away from the two super soldiers to face his kid. “The spiderling didn't give you any trouble did he? It's a little late.” He commented.

 

“Oh, no.” He shook his head, “He just- uh, we decided to walk home.” Harley fiddled with the strings of his backpack, on his shoulders. Tony didn't assume anything of it, since he knew if it was something important Harley would tell him.

 

Tony smiled. “Oh okay.” It felt a little stilted with the other two there. Tony decided to be proactive about it ( Pepper would be so proud. ) “You’ve met Rogers and Barnes,” 

 

Harley politely greeted the two soldiers, with good old southern charm -- the side Tony barely ever saw anymore but reminded him immediately of the boy’s mother. Genuine but not too kind. Like Tony’s press persona, but more natural. Amicable, and it wasn't long after that he went up to his room under the pretense of ‘homework’. He was only slightly performative, too, which was a little surprising. He knew the two beside him likely wouldn’t suspect a thing wrong with it, though.

 

When he left, Steve was the first to speak. “Spider-man had been taking him home?” He questioned, genuine, but something that would've set Tony off in the early days of their relationship. It was steady in a way that sounded mocking or questioning his choices. Having known Steve for years, now, he understood that wasn't the case.

 

Tony nodded. “The kid offered until we hire him some personal security…” He trailed off for a moment, unthinkingly keeping small things to himself that he would've originally shared. But, if Steve wanted to make amends, then Tony would have to try, too. “I don't want the goblin attacking him to get to us. Especially with his targets so far, it isn't safe.” He puts a hand over his eyes, tired. The situation is taking a toll and it's weighing on him.

 

Steve -- dear Steve who once knew Tony’s emotions like his own, who comforted him so many nights and could read him like a book -- hesitated only a second before setting a hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony hated the touch. Hated how reassuring it was. Hated how someone who almost killed him had once been so close to him. He doesn't speak, doesn't need to. It's just warmth that seeps through in a way that makes Tony marginally calmer. 

 

It's an ‘I’m here for you’ when that wasn't always the case. It's reconciliation and aid all wrapped up in a pretty package. Tony feels too much in the moment, takes a breath and attempts a new angle, like dusting cobwebs as he tries for how they used to be. Something lighter. Still related, but with Harley upstairs he can finally tell Steve -- though he's sure the man figured it out already. Changing the mood somewhat. James is still in the room with them, and he isn't trying to make it uncomfortable.

 

“You know, he was sketching Pete’s webshooters yesterday.," Tony mentions, under his breath as if it's a spoken secret -- mostly since he really shouldn't mention Peter Parker as Spider-man in any capacity. It's a secret identity for a reason. ( Not that Tony has ever personally made use of one. ) 

 

Steve, having much learned from before, waits for an elaboration, Tony knows to give. “I didn't prompt him, at all. He just… started after Pete brought him home yesterday.” 

 

There's an unspoken between the two. Something that Tony knows reminds Steve of how they were -- something more honest and hopeful, and not broken and tattered like they were. Not trying to mend something that couldn't be fixed. Not biting insults to hide a sort of unsaid friendship. Raw and real, and more like an actuality of the term ‘keep your enemies closer’. 

 

And Steve… Steve can tell. Steve catches the line, too. “He’s smart.” He doesn't add the ‘like you’, but Tony hears it anyway. They both know that, and it sits as a heavy weight between them.

 

Years couldn't tear apart how well they could read each other. Years, nor a betrayal and being left beaten on the ground of a Siberian bunker. It aches to know that as a truth, yet it's the kind of bruise Tony can't help but poke and prod in a half-baked attempt at massaging. It could go two ways, make it worse or better. Tony hasn't gotten better at knowing the outcome of his touches. If the purple will attempt to smudge or dissipate. Tony is extending a second branch, after Steve has burned the tree they grew together. And Steve, he knows, is cultivating it like his life depends on it. 

 

“He is.” Tony agrees. “But he's just a kid.” Tony works his jaw for a moment, not knowing if he’d be too vulnerable for their current relationship or just enough. Not caring when it's a man who would beg for his forgiveness if he asked. Steve will take whatever Tony can give. Tony knows that, now, like he knows how to breathe. Like the back of his hand. Like how he used to know Steve. “I don't know how to protect him.” 

 

Admitting it aloud is like ripping off a bandaid, but it healed to the gauze and it starts bleeding again. Slow. steady. He hasn't even said that to his fiancée, even though she knows he thinks it. 

 

“You're finding someone to keep him safe, Tony. And you’re doing all you can do by working on the case.” Steve reminds. Kind and gentle like everything has been left in the past. Tony really wished he could believe his words, even if the aformed was true.

 

He sighs. He doesn't believe Steve and it's obvious. Unsurprisingly, this is how a good amount of their conversations went, before. A very familiar song and dance. Which means he knows what Steve will say next. Something to change the subject, maybe include James since this conversation is already much too personal for the third onlooker. Not to mention, it must be uncomfortable if Steve made on his promise to be more honest.

 

Steve sits back, removing his hand from Tony’s shoulder, breathes in and out once -- not taking his time but as if fresh air comes with the new topic. James seems to understand the subject change, as well, the moment before Steve speaks. Otherwise, he remains as impassive as ever.  

 

“I’m thinking of retiring.”

 

What? Tony’s head whips around. He isn't often speechless. He is, in fact, now speechless. “Sorry?”

 

One look over to James tells him this isn't a new conversation, which is more than alarming since it means he isn't lying. 

 

So many thoughts come to the forefront of his mind. Old comics, paraphernalia. Captain America saving the day. God, the simple image of Steve saying ‘I can do this all day’ with that annoyingly infuriating determination. Then, the situation at hand. The Goblin. He’s going to retire in the middle of all this? Logically, no. Steve isn't that person. Steve would probably see the situation through to the end and then retire. But, that doesn't let the inkling of doubt leave -- because, Tony didn't think Steve would be the type of person to keep important information like his parents murders, either. 

 

Steve doesn't even have to look at him to know where his mind wandered to. Or, he was already prepared to follow up. Either way. “Once this is all over.” He looks down, not making eye contact any longer. Shameful, almost. “It’s only been a few months being back, but I think Captain America -- I think that I -- am no longer him.”

 

Which, isn’t that such a statement? The man who notoriously fought tooth and nail to fight. Gave up his body for some experimental drug-enhancement just to fight. Kept at it as soon as the world was in trouble once again. Kept the colours for so long, even though it was far passed the need for nationalism. All that, and yet-

 

And yet, Tony understands what he means. Not renouncing his other half, no, but knowing what this life does to someone. Clint has tried to retire multiple times, heaven knows Laura Barton is a truly patient woman. Natasha is still much younger than the lot of them, but its clear how she craves a life. A real life. Bruce is recovering from the last few years, forgiving himself. Coming to terms with his other half -- mentioned weeks back how he might move closer to his cousin, states away from the compound. Thor is working on New Asgard, mourning his siblings. They’ve all become much more than a group of misfits looking up at alien destruction, wondering how the hell they were supposed to fix a hole in the sky. 

 

Tony understands Steve because he’s attempting the same, in the way of his that can never quit. Helping Harley, moving the kid’s mom and sister -- his family, by all legal documents -- and fix New York so they could live somewhat happily. Marrying Pepper, because she’s simply his person, someone who can understand and love him. Someone he can come home to and someone who he loves in a way that doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else. 

 

He’d told Steve he’d get there one day, and looking at both Steve and James before him, finally it’s come to dawn. The simple life. 

 

“You deserve it, Steve.” Tony tells him honestly, “You really do.”

 

“I know,” Steve replies, truthful. “But there was another thing that I wanted your opinion on.”

 

Tony tilts his head for Steve to continue. James has a small smile directed at Steve, he can see from the corner of his eye. It intrigues him.

 

“I think the world needs Captain America and- uh I was thinking about handing over the title.” He sounds sheepish. And of all people, only Steven Grant Rogers could possibly sound sheepish of all things when talking about such a huge change. Still, Tony can’t help but smile. It’s so achingly familiar. He just has to ask further. If he has someone in mind, or if thats what he wanted the opinion on.

And when the conversation evolves, it's much lighter. James, is even inclined to join in. Its all one step closer to something good.

Notes:

chapter notes!!! (they're all abt steve's car)
- jeeps notoriously have a cult-ish 21st century thing where you 'duck' another person's car by putting a rubber ducky on their car handle. genuinly i have not seen one jeep without at least a few ducks. so... steve has def lived in the 21st century long enough to know abt it!
- the woody car that bucky had does in fact look like a jeep kinda (its not by far) and steve has a jeep :)
- a 'sunpass' is something you can stick on your card with money loaded onto it (like a card) to pass through toll roads. its from florida but is accepted in 22 other states and a lot of people have them!! (esp if they travel state-wide a lot)

okay thats all i hope 80k words was enough of a build-up for our two MCs /finally/ tip-toe-ing into more relationship-y things !! until next time!

Twitter: th3sungod

Chapter 8: Just Let Me Stay Here By Your Side, That Would Be Enough.

Summary:

Steve nods in his direction, a greeting as he takes in the room. Some would see it as a dismissal, but Tony knows he's just evaluating his surroundings. Tony assumes, with that, he won't speak much further. It isn't often Tony is wrong, but Steve keeps surprising him time and time again. “You okay?” The blond asked, all kind and worrying.

Tony stares at him, nodding once after a beat. “Fit as a fiddle, Cap.” He lies through his teeth. He hasn't slept in days, really. A psychotic man with explosives and a criminal overlord are on the loose in the city that never sleeps, barely any time after he brought his kid to live there. His kid who he had honestly barely helped, despite his promise to do more. He was still supposed to be planning a wedding but it looks like it'll be postponed, again. In short, everything was not fine.

“The truth?” Steve inquired, in that annoyingly perceptive way of his.

Tony sighed, eyes slipping shut against his will. “What is there to say, Steve?” He wondered uselessly, tired. “It's all a mess.”

chapter title from 'its quiet uptown' from hamilton

Notes:

100k words oh my gods how did this get so long what

this chapter is like 13k words i hope yall enjoy, we're at the end of this small arc between tony and steve (twitter knows im sick of them at this point... THEY KEEP DOING THAT)

also forewarning this chapter isnt in harley's pov for a majority, but its still very plot heavy. otherwise ENJOY

Dinner went… fine. A little stilted at times, but fine overall. 

 

Rogers seemed to speak enough for the both of them, and Barnes was oddly quieter than the last time Harley saw him, but the conversation flowed easily with Tony and Pepper hosting. Rogers asked him about school in general before Pepper asked how his day went, and he replied truthfully. Bland, but enough that he was contributing. When Pepper, like Tony before, asked about his walk home, he didn't stumble over his words as much. That, in itself, was a win. 

 

But, as it was, Harley was happy to excuse himself, right after. He didn't end up messaging Spider-man other than a ‘Hey, this is Harley’, and with how early he'd woken up, he went to sleep right after.

 

Saturday morning was lazy. No longer dealing with the immediate pins-and-needles in his leg, he could stay in bed all morning without needing to get up. The buzz of hunger blended with the fuzz of sleep, and he was content for a while. He scrolled social media -- more of that speculative crap about Ghost-spider and Human Torch -- and when that wasn't fulfilling, the group chat was plenty active. Gwen was actually suggesting homecoming shopping together in a week, once tickets were out, and so Harley sent his own message to Tony asking for permission. Asking, only because he knew Tony would want to schedule some sort of escort. In the meantime, complaining about the aformed despite it really not being much of a big deal.

 

And, when Tony did respond with an ‘I’ll have it sorted’, he informed the group that he was in -- and about the potential addition. Gwen didn't mind. Apparently it was also common that Kate had someone whenever they went somewhere -- though she wouldn't be going with them that day.

 

Harley spent most of the rest of the day in his room. He did some schoolwork and called Abby, played a few online games on his laptop, and eventually when noon rolled around he finally made a move to become something more than a room-cave dweller. He changed into something more casual, lounge wear that consisted of a black longsleeve and mustard yellow sweatpants. Not the most fashionable but he couldn't be bothered for something no one important would see him in. No one but family, his mind supplied. He scrunched his nose at the thought, but it wasn't particularly wrong. He moved on, and made his way downstairs for a drink.

 

Pepper was sitting on the couch when he entered the open-concept living area, also in comfortable clothes with some Tv. show on, while working on a tablet. Multitasking, because a C.E.O.’s work was never done -- especially not with being blamed for the prison break of a well wanted criminal. 

 

Before saying ‘hi’ and disrupting her, he poured himself a drink, and walked back out to sit on the opposite couch -- loveseat, technically -- only so he could sprawl out if he truly wished. It was Saturday, after all.

 

Pepper noticed when he sat down, and looked up. “Good morning.” Harley greeted, unthinkingly.

 

“After noon,” She responded in kind, setting down her tablet momentarily. “Sleep okay?” 

 

Harley nodded, yawning despite having been up for hours at that point. “Mhm.” He glanced toward the Tv., trying to figure out what was playing. Sidetracked. “Woke up a bit ago.” 

 

The show didn't look particularly modern, and he honestly had never seen any of the actors. Not that he was good at identifying actors, but a starting point could be something, at least. Two girls were on screen talking about… a demon? While one one tried convincing the other he really wasn't that bad. It kind of sounded like the girl defending the demon -- Cole, his name was apparently Cole -- was really close with the guy. Maybe dating him or just… really close. Not convincing at all, bye the way, when she insisted her judgement wasn't clouded. Harley, despite having been up, felt a little syrupy slow watching it as if he was still tired. He probably was. Not a lot was clicking right. 

 

“Whatcha doin’?” He decided on asking, turning away from the on-screen drama. 

 

“Nothing fun.” She answered honestly, looking down at the work tablet. “Paperwork, mostly. The labs at SEE are filling up since the end of the year is encroaching, and I have to go over some main event slots.” She flipped the tablet around to show Harley the model. 

 

S.E.E. was the Stark Expo, in short terms. Stark Entertainment Exposition. Largely, the Stark Expo was like a science theme park for however long it was open -- which was never long at all anymore. A few months a year, during spring, while the rest of the time the space was simply used as a facility for research and development. Internships, technical laboratories, and a large area for those who had once gotten different grants and started working under Stark Industries to make more -- after submitting their patents for actual use under the company, that was. Harley didn’t spend a lot of time there since Tony’s workshop was often cool enough, and Avengers Tower still had labs until they moved upstate. Harley knew about it, though, because of course he did. Tony talked about visiting the campus all the time when he started working with Spider-man, since it was based in Queens. Not as recent, though. 

 

“Gross.” Harley commented in sympathy, thinking up something he could do to help. Her mug was empty on the coffee table. “I could make you another espresso if it’d make things easier?” He offered. 

 

She did seem to think about it, but ultimately declined. “If I had another cup, I’d invoke a warning from Friday,” She confided, somewhat jovially though Harley knew she was likely telling the truth. The limit was three cups a day, and the A.I. would send a warning for any after. Unfortunately, Harley had once only believed Tony needed that warning. This was a common misconception. Pepper was the C.E.O. of the most successful technology conglomerate in the world, she was often just as bad as her fiancé. 

 

Harley accepted that, and settled further into the couch. “So, what's this?” He gestured to the Tv. screen.  

 

“ Charmed ,” Pepper replied, easily, looking down at her tablet once more. Harley, having not heard of the show, looked it up. The two characters on the screen kept arguing. Something, something, it had a ton of seasons and even more episodes. About three sisters using witchcraft to save (?) the world. Made in the late nineties. Right.

 

Harley swiped for the dropdown menu on his phone, and went through his notifications instead. He liked the company, but the show was a lot more Abby’s style than his. He had a handful of notifications from the news app he downloaded -- which, honestly, was filling his inbox -- a few emails from universities, a text from Abby asking if there were any screws in his lab, and a handful of messages from the group chat. He responded to Abby, and it's a ‘ what do you take me for ’ and then the location. Didn't respond to the group chat messages yet, and instead clicked on the news app manually. It was filled with nothing good, as could've been predicted.

 

More about the Fantastic Four, in relation to Johnny Storm posting on Instagram. Speculation about Stark Industries’ involvement in Wilson Fisk escaping prison. Türkiye introducing their own government sanctioned ‘superhero’, asking if other countries will start doing the same -- dryly, Harley wondered if the article was ardently avoiding a good handful of countries that didn't already have at least one, a very slim number. The Avengers largely worked on a multi-national scale, but a lot of places modernly started making Captain America-like superheroes. Less enhanced, however, and often differing to highly trained mutants. 

 

Finding that then boring, with a frankly appalling show of any attention span, Harley proceeded to click on a handful of other apps in an attempt to thwart his slight boredom as he finished his breakfast -- which, really, could probably be considered lunch. Twitter, Instagram, finally opened the group chat to respond and add his own two-cents wherever deemed appropriate, Twitter again. Within the second time, he did get a little distracted by the Tv. for two or twelve minutes -- really who was counting -- but clicked his phone back on during a roll of credits. 

 

Really, it seemed like there was nothing to do. Granted, he could've gone up and used his laptop for some good-old online games, but he wasn't feeling like it.  Once again, for what felt like the twentieth time that day but had really only been the third or fourth, he opened his messaging app. Thinking, maybe, he would send Abby a meme from his camera roll or just bug her for the hell if it. His eyes caught the show again, and after another very short moment, he looked back down and all thoughts had been wiped from his mind. What was he doing, again? He opened his phone, again since it had shut off from disuse, and saw his message app open. Abby was at the top, of course, but below that was Tony, Spider-man, Pepper, then his mom.

 

And, it was so surreal already that he actually had Spider-man’s number, he clicked on it unthinkingly, just to marvel. Casual conversation sat between the confines of the messages, small as it was and ungrown, but there . It was so cool. His instincts, too, internally trilled in satisfaction, and it might've been something he deftly overlooked that he didn't first get annoyed at the fact it was there in general. It must have realized what a thing this was, too. How crazy cool.

 

And it was like he knew , somehow, that Harley was looking at it. Because in that moment of awe, Harley got a message. A message from Spider-man. 

 

hey! 

 

And it was just a ‘hey’. No follow up. No, ‘I was thinking about you’ -- which is insane why would Harley even think that, this was Spider-man. Just, ‘ hey! ’.God, Harley has never felt more like a teenager than at this moment, worrying about a text message and trying to read between the lines that weren’t there.

 

He typed back.

 

Hi !

 

Was that good? That was good, right? God, he didn’t know. Overthinking it, he followed it up. 

 

How are you?

 

Okay. Fuck. Nevermind. That was dumb. This was Spider-man. A superhero. Actively worked with Captain America and The Black Widow. Teamed up with Deadpool very often. ‘How are you?’ was the most juvenile thing he could think of. What was he thinking ?

 

im good!!! thabks for asking

 

thanks***

 

how are you!

 

Harley had to breathe. Was he breathing? He felt like he wasn’t breathing. He had to look up, subconsciously, from his phone to look over at Pepper. Not because he was worried she might catch him texting Spider-man, and he didn’t want to look suspicious, but because he was worried he was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush and that simply would not do. She, luckily, wasn’t looking his way. She was still using her StarkPad, every few moments glancing at the screen. He looked away from her before she could wonder why he was peering over. Back down at his phone, where Spider-man had messaged him. God, it was a whole nother level. Spider-man had his number? Messaged him? Had picked him up from school? He was finally feeling what people do when they meet celebrities. 

 

I’m all right, just hanging around. :) 

 

He did, in fact, worry if the smiley face was too much. Too forward. Too friendly for basic acquaintances. Maybe, if all went badly, he could just attribute it to a writing style. Like how Gwen was constantly using the double circumflexes to mean a smile-like expression. 

 

at home?

 

It said a lot about Harley to not question why Spider-man was asking, and more focused on the fact it was Spider-man in the first place. Any other person, he’d wonder why they wanted to know.

 

Yepp. Still confined to the house so far 

 

That was an over-dramatic version of events, he was sure if he asked, Pepper would find someone to accompany him in less than a moment, but he didn’t quite want to burden her. Plus, if he had been given a full time bodyguard, like he knew Tony wished to hire one for him, he would’ve probably been introduced already. 

 

Harley kept messaging, despite his nerves, and slowly it fizzled into something more normal that he could worry about after. Fortunately, Spider-man’s sheer personality was sort of like crack if you lit it on fire with sugar and made marshmallow tanghulu  -- but the marshmallow kept trying to melt every time you dipped it. Less like a superhero and more like a human. Ten out of ten, if he had a messenger account, Gwen would’ve added him into the group chat based on personality alone. 

 

.

Message: (929)XXX-XXXX

Spider-man:

yeahhh im w mr stark rn… hes like this :pinch: close to getting you an permanent avenger chaperone atp

fun fact

 

Me:

??? 

Are you like in a meeting right now or something???

 

Spider-man:

lol yeah

i mean

no.

 

Me:

????

Spider-man:

unrelatedly because im not in a meeting right now. did you know captain america has a cat??

 

Me:

I… did not.

Granted, I dont know where I would’ve gotten that information in the first place.

 

Spider-man:

same

the winter soldier is in the corner holding the cat

 

Me:

In the meeting?

 

Spider-man:

what meeting theres no meeting

 

Me:

Mhm.

 

Spider-man:

NO BUT LITERALLY WHO BRINGS THEIR CAT

 

Me:

Captain America, obviously.

 

Spider-man:

wowwww wow wow

okay wise guy

 

Me:

Lol

 

Spider-man:

akjsldhksjkla

i think tony knows im using my ai to text

 

Me:

Oh definitely

 

Spider-man:

he can do that???

 

Me:

I rlly wouldn’t doubt it

 

Spider-man:

HE LOOKED AWAY

i think im in the clear

NVM HAVE TO GO BYE HARLEY

 

Me:

LMAO okay bye 

???

.

♡

 

Tony watched Peter’s mask slowly fall, sheepish for a reason he was sure would've warranted… something stern, if Tony wasn't so tired. He was probably doing something he wasn't supposed to, while pretending to pay attention to the meeting, but he giggled not a few seconds prior and Tony had looked over, then. Granted, Tony wasn't paying too much attention either, but Peter would definitely need to hear about whatever Maria was talking about. The new patrol routes… or going over the dossier… or something. Tony was tired, and hadn't gotten much rest over the last few days. Sue him if he had his A.I. simply tell him what he needed to know later.

 

They were in the compound. Maria was explaining the plans cooked up by most of the individual team leaders in the common room, instead of any real meeting area. A majority of the New York heroes were in attendance, safe for those whose abilities or work was situational -- Bruce was in his lab, Strange was at the sanctum, Johnny Storm was in a recovery room a few halls down, etc. Everyone else was in attendance, under strict secrecy. Even Rhodey was there, and he was often busy in D.C.

 

The plan was simple, so far. Available heroes would be patrolling around Manhattan, since thats where the Green Goblin had centralized himself. They would be alternating in four hour intervals, in pairs, and largely looking out for anything indicative of his activity. Hoverboard, scrap metal -- something that they could either stop before it happened or analyze. Johnny Storm getting hurt was really the straw that broke the camel’s back. Unlike when anyone else actually looked for him, the goblin had attacked and left lasting damage. Johnny’s powers had been dampened significantly, apparently, and according to Sue he should’ve been able to put out the fire immediately. Now, even lighting up just a hand over-exerted the teen. 

 

Tony had gotten to the compound around midnight that morning, since he’d finished the schematics for the other spider-kid’s iron suit, and he opted to help Bruce analyze the samples taken from the other day. His findings with Peter were benignly inadequate. They came up empty -- which was a possibility, but even labs on Storm came up empty. They found virtually nothing besides that he still had the power somewhere , it just wasn’t working. Bruce assumed it was some sort of chemical keeping it at bay, but that would mean there was something that was able to do that in the first place and Reed had found nothing on that front. Tony and Bruce, though they tried, also found nothing by the time most of the other Avengers arrived for the meeting.

Now, standing in the centre of the Avengers’ common room, Tony felt dead on his feet. Last time he’d slept was about an hour or two on Thursday night -- nowhere near enough to deal with the last few days, yet here he was. He took a deep breath, hard shutting his eyes for just a moment to stave away sleep.

 

Tony was just glad his sunglasses were over his eyes, because he was pretty sure his eyes closed for more than a beat. Deciding, he took a few careful steps out of the room -- trying not to draw attention to him while still acting like he was being completely normal and cool. Casual. Just into the nearest door, the map room. Small, and wouldn’t make a sound when he opened it. It was easy to sneak right in without any eyes on him, and take a few breaths. 

 

He needed a coffee, really. He’d entertained the idea of caffeine pills or a few ‘five-hour-energy’s, but he didn’t need another earful from his cardiologist. Or, Pepper telling him, once again, how worried she was for him in a way that made him feel guilty. So, maybe a calorie-dense meal and a coffee would be the best for his lack of energy. It was telling, how not once did he have the idea that sleep would fix things. He didn’t have time for that. Not with Wilson Fisk and that green bastard loose. 

 

He took a turn about the room, taking a moment to clear his head. The compound’s security feeds were gathered on one glass monitor, every room laid out between seventy or so entries. Only a few were blown up, though, since F.R.I.D.A.Y. monitored them. Maps on the walls, some alternating like billboard ads. Keeping eyes on possible Hydra facilities if they were to try and pop back up. Monitoring The Hand. Keeping Doom in jail -- which, surprisingly, was an honestly too easy task, that Tony knew would one day blow up in their face, hence the tracking on him. And, newly, the central map tables in the room. One, possible locations Fisk could be -- scarily too many places. And two, each place the Goblin had attacked so far, alongside a button for the file on him. 

 

Computers and other monitors lined the walls. A large doorway, closed by glass and metal pocket doors, connected the area to their centre control room for missions -- desks set up in rows for agents to relay information for field workers. Avengers and modern Shield missions alike. Very military styled, and much bigger than the map room. Steve actually suggested the map room, it having been something so common while he was in active service. 

 

Tony stayed away from the doors of the second room, in case someone was inside, and took a seat at one of the lone desks. The very comfortable chairs almost lulled him into a false sense of comfort, he almost shut his eyes for a couple more seconds, but the door opened and in a moment he was sitting upright once more. But, it was just Steve. Steve, not Captain America, with his hair untouched with any gel and his eyes holding a similar tire as Tony’s. He was in nice slacks and a button down, just like what he used to wear fresh out of the ice and still getting used to this century -- though Tony had seen him in far more modern things, since. 

 

Today, Tony could tell, was one of those days. 

 

The kind where Steve pretended things were okay, but everything reminded him of the fact he was living a century ahead of his life. Where he just wanted to reminisce. Steve stopped letting Tony see him those days, after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. It was odd, how Tony’s subconscious memorized every part of Steve in such a short amount of time. ( Trauma bonding, his therapist would say. )

 

Tony sighed, sinking back down into the chair. “Hey, Steve.” He greeted, refusing to close his eyes for another second despite his position. He shouldn't risk it. Steve knows him as well as he knows himself, or did at a time, and he doesn't need the man on his case as well. 

 

Steve nods in his direction, a greeting as he takes in the room. Some would see it as a dismissal, but Tony knows he's just evaluating his surroundings. Tony assumes, with that, he won't speak much further. It isn't often Tony is wrong, but Steve keeps surprising him time and time again. “You okay?” The blond asked, all kind and worrying.

 

Tony stares at him, nodding once after a beat. “Fit as a fiddle, Cap.” He lies through his teeth. He hasn't slept in days, really. A psychotic man with explosives and a criminal overlord are on the loose in the city that never sleeps, barely any time after he brought his kid to live there. His kid who he had honestly barely helped, despite his promise to do more. He was still supposed to be planning a wedding but it looks like it'll be postponed, again. In short, everything was not fine. 

 

“The truth?” Steve inquired, in that annoyingly perceptive way of his. 

 

Tony sighed, eyes slipping shut against his will. “What is there to say, Steve?” He wondered uselessly, tired . “It's all a mess.”

 

Steve pointed a finger up, as if to agree or say ‘point’, and Tony didn't have to see it to know it was happening. He just did that sometimes, such a modern mannerism and Tony was sure he didn't even notice it. Tony opened his eyes once more just to catch the tail end of the action -- simply because he liked knowing he was right, more than anything. 

 

It was, in fact, pretty satisfying but Tony didn't bother to revel for more than a moment. He had to ask. He had to wonder. “Is this really all we can do?” He sounded so unsure. So unconfident. So unlike his usual bravado and that was telling of his thoughts, itself. 

 

Steve sighed. “I don't know.” He answered truthfully. 

 

Tony laughed, humourlessly. Nothing was funny about the situation they were in. Terrorists? Criminal organizations? Having to relive the memory of getting back home, back on earth, all those months ago to find the worlds “ Mightiest Heroes ” nearly dead and having barely stopped the universe from halving itself. If the Princess of Wakanda hadn't destroyed the Reality Stone in time, Tiny was sure the world would be far different. From what Steve said, it was scarily perfect timing, a moment later and they’d have lost.

 

They would have lost separately . 

 

This was the amendment. The new ‘United Avengers’ was supposed to be better than nuclear repellent. It was what Ultron was supposed to be. They were still working on the actual ‘suit of armour’ part, but for now this was damn near close. New York City’s latest problems would put the test just how good it was -- and so far it was going horribly. 

 

Steve looked at him, really looked at the dark bags under his eyes and analyzed all the things about his body Tony refused to think about. It was all secondary to everything happening. Him laughing didn't help, but it was such a situation Tony couldn't help it. “Tony, I think--”

 

He looked like he was about to say something a little too raw. A little too real. A conversation that was a little too awake for how Tony was feeling. It was only his luck that one of the maps beeped, just in time.

 

Both of their heads swiveled around to the map. The second map, highlighted by the red exclamation point above the island table. In a moment, Steve turned into the version of Captain America everyone knew. The man with a plan, and not the nearly broken person Tony had seen just a moment prior. He and Tony crowded around the table, looking for the discrepancy.

 

“Friday, give me eyes on what's happening.” Tony barked out, watching as the map of Manhattan zoomed in. The corner of Sullivan and Bleaker street, it highlighted the building there and it took Tony a beat to figure out why the address was familiar. When the live sheet camera feed came, Tony felt a little sick, though would never say anything. It looked worse for wear.

 

“ The Sanctum Sanctorum’s New York location appears to have been attacked, sir. An explosion on the upstairs floor, but it only seemed to have broken the windows. The Green Goblin appears to have flown in through there. ”

 

The video opens a clip on the side, of the windows shattering thanks to an explosion and the goblin flying into the building not so long after. Tony felt his heart beat faster, adrenaline making his head pound with the lack of sleep. 

 

“ The Iron Legion is already on their way, to assist in the clearing of civilians and provide aid to the Doctor. ” F.R.I.D.A.Y. relayed, just moments before said bots appeared onscreen.

 

The door to the map room burst open, and Tony looked up from the display in time to see Maria enter, with Charles Xavier and Reed Richards on her heels. What a sight to see. It was crazy to think ten years ago he claimed to have “Privatized world peace”, and that idea -- how it’s come so far. This seemed like they were actually attempting something like that. Steve promptly greeted the two, while Tony waved halfheartedly. He wasn’t going to put in the effort to bait Richards in any way with how tired he was, and from the moment Xavier walked in the room he could practically feel his sympathy. Fucking telepaths.  Wanda used to be the same way, just knowing . 

 

“I’ve already sent Kurt, Rogue, and Jean to deal with the situation.” Xavier started, using his abilities to change the table to their comns and vitals. Honestly, Tony would use the fact that every superhero within their operation used StarkWatches as an advert or something, but he felt like it might somehow end badly. Supervillains might try attacking that specifically, and he’d learnt that he’d rather not destroy a good thing. “I’m hoping Jean might be able to at least get an idea of the man’s motives."

 

“I don't see someone like that as someone to be reasoned with.” Reed comments dryly, assuming a place around the map table.Steve steps aside for him, closer to Tony. Tony doesn’t step away, but he fixates on the closed space for just a moment. Pointedly doesn't squint while he does so.

 

Xavier sighs. “She’ll also figure out about his armor, thankfully; you and Stark can work backward from there.” Xavier pulls the holograms around him -- street cameras, live streams from passerby that really should get away, news that's already reporting, and a posse of filtered tweets. “Hank and Banner are on their way up, as well, by the way,” he comments offhandedly. 

 

“Now?” Richards questions, while Steve speaks within the same beat, "Impeccable timing.”

In the holograms, Strange is thrown out of the broken window, and flies right back in -- clearly pissed off. It’s then when Grey and Wagner appear onscreen, Rogue nowhere to be seen. Wagner is escorting civilians away, and the screen from a livestream cuts out. From the street camera, a few visible small fires that broke out around the area, just from rubble or remnants of whatever explosive the Goblin used, put themselves out in an eerie synchrony. Grey walked through the front doors of the building, soon after. 

 

“Friday, prepare me a suit.” Tony calls, not being able to stand in the office, doing nothing. Virtually nothing. He storms out of the office. Steve, expectedly, follows him.

 

From his glasses, the A.I. alerts him that she has one on the patio. He storms through the heroes in the common room, all definitely wondering what exactly they could do -- all realizing not even a quinjet would get there on time. The Goblin is notorious for short appearances and causing huge disasters. Tony doubts he’d make it before the Goblin got away -- or, if he was optimistic, was finally captured -- but Strange will need to be briefed and Tony needs something to do before he passes out from sleep deprivation.

The heroes watch as he exits the compound, Tony Stark himself obviously on a mission. With Captain America at his side. He knows what it must look like. The man with a plan, and someone who many thought as the world’s first superhero -- though he was far from it. They must know what they’re doing. Surely, they’re not going in blind. Unfortunately, no one tells you how to be a superhero. No one calls the shots, but them. There’s no direction, no one to tell you how to deal with an omega-level terrorist, who is virtually impossible to find and likes blowing things up for no clear motive. Not to mention, he’s clearly smart. Clearly knows how to make and manufacture his technology from spare parts. All that, wearing a suit made of metal that makes him look like a night terror. Yet, yes, he was proving them all wrong. He was still going in blind

 

Tony feels his suit encapsulate him, metal melting over his body like a cold blanket. Steve stands beside him, still in civilian clothes and clearly not heading for his suit. Tony should’ve assumed, since he was already stationed at the compound for the next week, but somehow he imagined Steve would attempt going with him -- one way or another. 

 

“I’ll have Maria send out the first team.” Steve tells him. Tony gives the man a thoughtful look. “If you need anything — need me over there — just call.” A repeated sentiment. 

 

Tony doesn't want to linger on the thought, or in general. He should get going. “You can't leave mission control, Steve. I'll be fine. You have a switchboard of heroes to command.” 

 

“I'm not the only one here, Tony.” He says, earnestly. Too earnest for Tony’s lighthearted comparison. “ Anything .” He promises.

 

Tony feels some sort of finality in that. It was both alike and the antithesis of that damned piece of paper. Unlike when he read it, he truly believes Steve would come. Drop everything and run towards the fight if asked. Even if he planned on retiring sometime soon. Tony knows his trust in his word is getting increasingly stronger, but he doesn't know when exactly that happened. Not like they’ve even been in the stages long. Just about as long as Harley’s been in New York.

 

Tony nods. Acceptance in a light that glows like forgiveness. An old, acrid thing that now smells like daffodils -- forgiveness, rebirth, new beginnings. 

 

Before he can think further, Iron Man is soaring though the sky on his way to New York, while Steve Rogers watches from the perfectly manicured lawn that is the Compound. Waiting for the call, once more. This time, with the phone at his hip.

 

♡

 

Strange is haggard when he arrives. A cut on his temple, bruises around the area that look interspersed with ash. Grey is nowhere to be seen, Wagner and Rogue are still helping civilians for the most part. The Sanctum, itself, is still intact minus the windows -- likely some sort of spell Tony doesn't want to wonder about -- but when Tony steps inside, he sees the damage. Books are strewn over the floor, leading out from different rooms while there's broken glass between it all. Not much rubble, but tipped tables and Strange standing in the centre. His hands are shaking at his sides.

 

“The guy a big reader?” Tony comments dryly at the dispersed pages from a few torn books. 

 

Strange doesn't respond to him, replies otherwise. “He broke out of the mirror realm. Went after the library here.” He looks around at the books, a cold set in his jaw. With a flick of his wrist, the books rise and circle, he quickly sorts through them -- likely using magic to do it as quickly as he does. Tony looks around at each of the books as more rise to the circle, and once read get sat in a couple of different stacks. 

 

“Anything missing?” Tony inquires, eyes lingering just a tad too long on a book titled in latin. He didn’t need F.R.I.D.A.Y. 's automatic translation to read how it was a book titled ‘Death’ and nothing more. 

 

Strange took a second, before all the books were stacked neatly in pile and he brought a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Three.”

 

Tony wanted to ask how he knew, but more than one conversation with the man made him acutely aware how anal he was about those types of things. He definitely had each book memorized. 

 

“And those are…?” Tony leaded, hoping for an answer sometime soon. 

 

Strange gave him a look, annoyed almost, and Tony smiled behind his mask. It was always so easy to rile the man up. Nevertheless, Strange answered. “Populus silvarum, a book highlighting mythos and how true they are. It was one of the relics here.” A magic-esque hologram appeared infront of Tony, showing off a red-bound book with a leather spine and engravings throughout, gold leaf decorating each. The image changed as Strange swiped a hand, and a blue, more decrepit, book appeared. “This one translates to ‘Magic that is not magic’, sgyu ma min pa'i sgyu ma , but it means Magic for non-witches .” He swiped again, this time a leather-bound book that looked in fairly good condition, written in english on the front. 

 

“These are studies on mythic biology and super serum.” The front cover read ‘PROJECT SENTRY: Vampiric Research By Robert Reynolds’, handwritten with a date in the corner that identified it from nineteen eighty-three. Tony could read it, which more than shocked him since he assumed the entirety of Strange’s collection was at least a couple hundred years old. But, the title the doctor provided was much more intriguing. 

 

“Super serum?” He echoed, neurasthenic enough to think he might have heard the man wrong.

 

Strange nodded, slow and calculating. “This was a part of my predecessor’s personal collection; the man who wrote it had a… intimate understanding of both.” Strange tilts his head, as if he couldn’t find the word for what he intended to say. Ultimately, he seemed to drop it, and shrug off the conversation simply. “You know, Cold War era testing. Pretty usual.”

 

Tony did understand. He knew of how many companies and countries attempted their own Super Serum during the Cold War --especially after the Soviets created their own mascot man, like Captain America. He knows the United States asked his father to attempt remaking it, but he refused. Similarly, how other companies signed military contracts to test out their own varieties. That being said, even S.H.I.E.L.D.’s old notes on the matter, while leading nowhere, had been under lock and key for a reason. A ‘not just because we’re hydra’ reason. If anyone had their hands on that information, while one person may have failed another may succeed from their shortcomings. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

 

Grey walked down the stairs, then, carrying in a ball of energy a broken… statue, was it? She did not intervene in their conversations, but carefully set the remnants of the statue in a small pile next to two others. Strange went on, “I have to go to Kamar-taj; we cant have him rummaging around there, too.”

 

Leave? At a time like this? 

 

“Do you have a way to… track the books?” Grey questioned, walking toward them, then. She was largely untouched from the fight, while some delicate cuts decorated Strange’s face. 

 

Strange gave a pained sigh, his nose scrunching up slightly. “Sort of.”

 

“Sort of?” Tony’s voice came out dry. Sort of was not always very helpful. It definitely wasn't an astounding ‘yes’ . 

 

“Well… one of the books can be tracked. The other two are old, written by regular people. No strains of magic to track.” He said, carefully. Like the way the doctor would give fatal news. “The last one -- the book on research -- the person who wrote it wrote in a failsafe. The information inside is dangerous if in the wrong hands, and he knew that.” He shut his eyes, hard as if he should have taken preventative measures around the books in general.

 

Grey rose an eyebrow. “So, you can get it back?” She genuinely asked, a much kinder response than anything Tony could think up. 

 

“In theory, the writer can. It's a portal, both ways. I don’t… have the other end of it. He does.”

 

Tony was honestly getting tired of all the use of ambiguous pronoun usage, as if this Robert Reynolds was something to be feared. He probably was, but Tony wasn’t going to admit that. Still, it felt like an anonymous person, by the way Strange spoke, despite how it wasn’t> he had a name, a general year he existed around, honestly Tony could likely find him in no time -- narrowing down the search down to people who understood enough about the super serum around that time? It was still heavily under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s lock and key until the early 2000s, when it was submitted for public research --- ugh, see how well that turned out. 

 

Tony sighed, knowing he’d have to bite. “And where is this man, exactly?”

 

“Upstate.”

 

Tony blinked, not expecting such a simple answer. “So.. we can go, and ask him to retrieve it. Spell it back. Whatever.” He turned flippantly to Grey, about to ask where her mission partners were. Surely the civilians were already safe, Tony had gotten there quite late.

Strange shook his head, fixing his gaze on Tony. “I have to go to the Kamar-taj. If any information there gets attacked, the world would be in a much worse place.” He told him, Tony wondering why he assumed Strange would see Reynolds, first. He would've bit out something else, but Strange beat him to it. Tony was getting a bit too tired for this conversation, he’d missed his chance twice. “But, you can go.” He offered. “I’m sure Reynolds would be happy to help.” He checked his watch, for a reason Tony couldn’t quite perceive -- was this attack mediating his time schedule? ( Tony’s tire definitely had him overly annoyed, and if he was anymore awake he would’ve remarked. He didn’t. )

 

Tony nodded, slow and trying to blink sleep from his vision again. He’d likely get a coffee on the way, if Strange didn’t send him through one of his portals. He nodded, accepting. Anything for New York. Anything for his kid to be okay. Too many people were getting hurt over this, and by any logic, Reynolds could find the book and Tony would be able to finally, finally , apprehend this guy.

 

“I do suggest bringing the Captain with you, however.” The doctor remarked. 

 

Tony recoiled. “What?”

 

Strange shrugged. “Just a suggestion.” 

‘Just a suggestion’ Tony felt personally attacked. Why the hell would he bring Steve. This was in and out. The goblin wouldn’t expect him, Tony could handle it just fine. 

 

♡

 

Tony was pretty hopeful he got the address correct, because what Strange had depicted to be ‘Upstate’ New York, was Hudson Valley at best. Cannetcut at worst. South Salem existed as a place between suburbs and a rural environment -- especially the outskirts, where the house was allegedly located. 

 

The front lawn was moderately sized, but an expanse of just trees filled the background of the old-looking home. Stone bricks on the exterior, with genuine wood. And some upstairs windows harbouring stained glass rather than anything usual. It was hard to miss, and that's one of the criteria Strange had specified when looking for the place.

 

Lush flora decorated the area, leftover from spring and everlasting with how oddly fluctuating the summer had been. Blue hydrangeas were growing in a front garden -- Tony really only knew the name because of how distinctive they looked -- alongside some yellow and pink flowers. Vines curled up the side of the house, disappearing into rose bushes later, and what looked like gardenias interspersed with said roses. A well-taken-care-of garden. The front door was wooden, and held a wreath engraved. Tony noted how beneath was the house number, painted in the same colour used for filling in sections of the wreath.

 

He stepped out of the car, shut the door, and didn't wait for the second door to open and shut before he started walking. It did, in tandem, however, and Tony didn't bring his attention to that.

 

“You sure this is the place?” Steve asked, trying to keep step with Tony. 

 

“That's what Friday said.”

 

Tony did have to explain, almost the entire way there, about Strange’s rundown on Vampires and such. Making it seem like he only knew the bare minimum but that Strange said to act normal. Steve leveled him with a look, as he replied with something so straightforward like ‘I don't care, strange said they can find the book’ -- though, more eloquent than Tony was willing to remember. So simple, one track minded and with an equalist view that even his father would raise a brow to. So modern for a man so old. Tony admired that about him, in a way. Granted, that was in word and untested with something like Vampires, but he was hopeful -- so much that it scared him -- that Steve would take things well. He knew a few things Kathy had said definitely put a dent in Harley’s demeanour, despite knowing she didn't mean it.

 

Tony wasted no time to knock on the door. His finished coffee was left in the cupholder of his car, and he was feeling more energized than before. Thankfully. And, Steve didn't even say anything about it. A win.

 

It took a moment, long enough that Tony debated knocking again, but soon the sound of a door chain removing itself sounded, and it followed with the door opening. Slowly, carefully, accompanied by the sound of a squeaky hinge. Tony waited, patient for once, as a blond man stepped forward. With a well-kept beard and very obvious red eyes, in slacks and a button down -- just like Steve before they left. He was familiar in the way of seeing someone a time or two, but never sharing a word. Just a passing sort of thing. Though, Tony had felt that with too many people he’d met, so it didn't much matter. Tony knew immediately this was a vampire. Of course the man who wrote the book would be a vampire. God, he really hoped that all-righteous shtick would keep him from harbouring any negativity. Really, Tony didn't need that right now.

 

The man didn't seem very shocked to see them, but he was obviously tense. 

 

Still, Steve stepped forward and asked. “Are you Robert Reynolds?” 

 

Anyone would recognize Steve, Tony assumed. Steve was now in his uniform, since they hadn't a clue of how this would play out. Tony’s suit was now attached discreetly to his belt, the light covered by nanites. 

 

The man didn't laugh, but he definitely had some undercurrent of amusement playing on his features. “Why are you askin’?”

 

Tony took that as a yes. Who else would it be? 

 

“We need to talk.” The vampire raised a brow. Tony felt already that this guy was a grade-A asshole, somehow. But, this was important, too important to be taken away by someone like that and so he bit back any remarks. Honesty. “Your journal was taken by someone terrorizing Manhattan.”

 

“The Sourcerer Supreme sent us.” Steve added.

 

The vampire gave them a thoughtful look, studying Steve for a moment, before opening the door wider, as a show of letting them in. “Robert,” he said pointedly, “Is inside.” He held out a hand. “John Walker, nice to meet you.”

 

Something tickled his brain at the name. Something familiar. Something so similar yet different. F.R.I.D.A.Y., behind his sunglasses, didn't need to be asked to log John Walker in her system, as soon as he introduced himself. It came up with a match, and Tony squinted as Steve took John’s hand.

 

“Steve Rogers.” The super soldier introduced. 

 

A C.I.A. profile, John Walker. Dated nineteen-fifty-one (1951). An intelligence operative, that his A.I. flagged as being usually classified. He was listed as a mutant.

 

John looked him up and down, more calculating than anything. “I know.”

 

F.R.I.D.A.Y. pulled up a few more images, all having dates. Walker was clean shaven in most, standing much more like a soldier than the man-- the vampire, infront of them. Eyes dark, but the pictures weren't in colour. Save for the last two.

 

1956. 1956. A picture of Walker with inside the C.I.A. building.

 

1957. 1957. Walker and Margret Carter, Walker walking by her side on a sidewalk while Peggy laughed.

 

1962. 1962. President Kennedy and Walker, shaking hands as if something monumental happened.

 

1964. 1964. Walker standing in a row of people, agents.

 

And the last. 

 

1967. 1967. A very familiar picture. One Howard had in his private office. Alongside pictures inside S.H.I.E.L.D. and other things Tony later learned were confidential, or simply close to chest. Walker and Howard, side by side with amicable smiles. Like the photo was taken by a third party. 

 

John turned to Tony, then, after letting Steve in. And Tony stepped up. 

 

‘ John Walker worked with the C.I.A. until nineteen-sixty-eight. ( 1968 ). He was a wanted fugitive, for withholding information from the federal government. ’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. provided on his screen, as he didn't accept Walker’s hand. 

 

“Tony Stark.” He said, despite knowing it was likely he also knew who he was.

 

Walker didn't bristle at his hand not being taken. “I know that, too.” He turned, shutting the door behind them. The squeaky hinge was loud in the otherwise silent house. 

 

The entryway was just a foyer, but John led them to the adjoining room, more of a sitting room than living room. Lots of blues and greys, a navy corduroy couch, and a very seventies style look to the decor, with some stray items on the shelves that looked truly antique. 

 

“Bob is upstairs, I’ll tell him you’re here. Take a seat, while you wait.”

 

 Tony sat only after Steve, and despite his history with the man, kept limited distance between them. He had an odd feeling about everything. John left to a staircase behind the foyer, and Steve seemed to only then take in the space. Tony tapped the side of his sunglasses for more information, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. posted on screen that everything else had been wiped.

 

Slightly annoyed, Tony swapped to focusing on Steve. He was surprisingly well put together for the moment. Wasn't freaking out. Calm, collected. Tony didn't know if that was just how he was, or simply if it's what came from waking up seventy years in the future and fighting aliens within a few months. Tony felt for him, he did. Especially since Steve was already having one of those days again.

 

“Hey,” Tony murmured, turning to the man beside him. Steve met his eye. Something about him was a little distant, but it was the kind eyes Tony hated to remember. “You okay?”

 

It was quiet, a small check in. Like they used to do. When it was just Tony and just Steve. No heroes. No gods. 

 

Steve’s eyes softened, the distance waning. “This isn't the craziest thing that's happened to me, if that's what you’re asking.”

 

And, really, it wasn't. Tony had accepted the truth of vampires before Strange even finalized it all. It, somehow, was a logical leap. An entire part of him wanted to, if he got a moment away from Steve, ask them about any tips. Anything he could do to help his kid. 

 

Tony conceded. “True. I don't think much could beat the last few years.” He didn't specify, but his mind flashed the image of Thanos. The so-called infinity stones . A wizard, in the first place.

 

Steve shook his head. A small strained smile. He remembered the same things, if he had to guess. But, he turned his head, thoughtfully. “I think, maybe. Time travel would take me a day or two.” He admits.

 

Tony laughs, simple and quiet -- barely a huff of air but genuine, in a way most people don't see from the man. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” He joked, cheekily.

 

A creaking sound came from the direction of the stairs, and both automatically turned to see John trailing behind someone. Walking down the stairs. The new man was much different than Walker. No military build or gruff beard that made him seem like a retired officer, but rather shoulder length brown hair in something modernly soft. Cashmere, probably, with how it was bunched at his elbows. With sweatpants, of all things. Steve stood as the man walked in, and Tony followed.

 

He was hunched in on himself, not meeting their eyes for a moment. Tony couldn't get a good look at his eyes, until the man scanned their figures, to look up at Steve. 

 

Bright blue eyes with a brown-ish centre. Normal, human . Was this Robert Reynolds? He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, but being old enough to have written something in the eighties? It looked impossible. Maybe a mutant? Enhanced?

 

“Holy cow! , John wasn't lying.” He stared at Steve. Captain America. Concerned shock written on his face. Steve waved, looking a little out of his depth despite having met with fans before -- back in the forties, and now. He looked surprised, overly, but attempted to shake himself from it.  “Sorry, Hi. I should-” He stumbled over his words, moving to give a half-wave. “I’m- Bob.”

 

This guy?

 

Steve smiled kindly, waving back. “It's nice to meet you, Bob.” Tony waves, too. A beat behind. F.R.I.D.A.Y., on the screen of his sunglasses, makes a show of identifying him with a small ‘waiting’ sign. He doesn't get anything immediately, meaning likely there is nothing. 

 

John gestures for them to sit, again, and gently taking Bob by the arm he sits them down on the opposing couch. “They came asking after your research journal.” The blond man provides. There's an accent to him that's old in a way Tony can't quite describe -- perhaps something ‘country’ smothered over time but it's an undercurrent he can't name.

 

Reynolds nods, “Right.” He shrinks a little, “You want to know about Project Sentry.” He sounds resigned.

 

Quite honestly, now that it's brought up, Tony wouldn't oppose hearing about it, but the faster they can subdue the not-so-jolly green lunatic in a metal suit, the faster he can drop all worry from his shoulders. Maybe he and Pepper should take their honeymoon in the Caribbean. Summer-style sands, beautiful plant life, and only the sound of coquís to fill his ears for at least a week. Likely a month. Who knows. 

 

“No. Although that does seem like an interesting story.” Tony says, almost wistful, if not for the graveness of his next words. “Your book was stolen by a terrorist attacking New York, along with two others.”

 

“The Sorcerer Supreme said you had a way of finding it, if it ever fell into the wrong hands. Is that true?” Steve cuts in, not unkindly but definitely knowing Tony would probably call Strange a ‘Wizard’ again. Steve didn't quite want to risk upsetting these people. 

 

Reynolds stares, silently, and nods once. “It's… Yeah. I do.” But his eyes do brighten, “Its…,” He looks between Steve and Tony, tilting his head apologetically. “Not the most useful, for superheroes, I’ll admit.”

 

“Anything works,” Steve assures. And then, “Thank you, Bob, for helping us.”

 

Reynolds clearly alights under the assurance, and it's such a stark contrast to what Tony’s brief assumption of Robert Reynolds was, that he’s a tad speechless. Walker keeps an eye on Reynolds, as he stands and takes a perimeter around the room. He pauses at a bookshelf, scanning each item. Only two thirds of the thing are actually books, others are trinkets and odd ends. Bob eventually plucks one out, with a similar leather binding, and starts flipping through the pages. 

 

Tony looks to Steve, and they share a look. It consists of nonverbal communication, which frankly Tony didn’t believe he understood anymore, but isn’t sure he could articulate well in the first place. Mostly asking, ‘This is him?’ as skeptic as ever, and somehow getting a lecture from Steve through his eyes alone. Tony looks back to Reynolds. 

 

The brunet pulled a small post card from the pages between, a small smile as he set the book back. “Here it is.” 

 

He walked back around to the centre of the room, and set the card on the coffee table. It looked normal, just a post card. Old, with a technicolour style, of the New York skyline from a high-flying perspective. It was, however, wholly unused. No stamp, no letter.Tony tilted his head, opening his mouth to ask what exactly a postcard was meant to do.

 

Walker, however, gave him a look to quiet any question. Sharp, as if telling him to wait. Instead, Walker leaned into Bob’s space, that immediate reaction so suddenly replaced with gentle warmth. Tony would've raised a brow, if he was in intimate company but didn't, knowing Steve would likely say something. 

 

It was just- The stone faced man they’d seen at the entrance was nothing like Walker who whispered under his breath -- quiet enough in the whole house for the room to hear. A soft, almost imperceptible reminder for just the two of them.

 

“I think you might be forgetting something, Bobby.” 

 

Were they…? Walker went back to his own couch square, but Tony noticed how his hand rested and stayed on Reynolds’ thigh -- golden metal glinting off his ring finger. Reynolds didn't seem to notice it, eyes widening in realization of whatever the vampire reminded him of. He picked up the card, and wiped at the picture with his hand -- a matching ring adorning it. Tony didn't imagine it would do much, but really what did he know because the guy’s hand started glowing . And, so did the card.

 

His face didn't harden, but something shifted. His spine straightened and his slight janky movement grew precise the more the light grew. It was only a few seconds, at most, but within that time the change was made noticeable. Because, alongside the idol prattle of basic posturing, there where his eyes. Once something blue or green, shown golden. Bright and almost glowing. And, did his hair look lighter ?

 

Once again, Reynolds placed the glowing postcard down onto the table, and when the light abided -- in both his hands and the card -- it was no longer the same image. Or- not exactly. The sky was void of the sun, and the edges of the page were turning slightly black. 

 

“There.” Reynolds adjusted, “That should find you what you need.” He met Tony’s eyes right on, something the man seemingly avoided in the moments before. A perfectly neutral expression. So different that a moment prior. Tony decided it might’ve been best not to question it head on.

 

Steve picked it up, looking at it and handing off to Tony when he asked, “How does it work?”

 

Reynolds smiled, as if it was a stupid question but he was indulging the soldier. Condescending, almost. “It's a compass. The light will get brighter when you're close, but if you're too far it'll completely turn black.” His eyes flickered, and Tony noticed John had moved his hand away. “It's not too modern; I hope that's okay. I’m sure the sorcerer can adapt it into something better--”

 

“I’m sure it's fine, Bob.” John cut in. He looked to the two Avengers, raising an eyebrow, asking if it was. But largely trying to assure Reynolds. 

 

“Yes, it's fine. This is a great lead,” Steve assured. It was a lot more than what they had previously -- a whole messload of nothing.

 

But Reynolds was turned to Walker, looking at him exasperated and sinking himself into a separate conversation. Quiet, but audible. “A map would've been better. A GPS , even. Not everyone's an old man.” He rolled his eyes.

 

Walker scoffed, affronted. “I’m not even as old as you make me out to be. We had maps.”

 

“Yeah, I know that, but this is for the Avengers . You know, Stark Industries, high tech.”

 

“Oh my god, Bob. I’m sure Captain America and Howard Stark’s son could figure out a compass. Hell, I’m sure the Captain already knows.” And he turned to Steve, “You are fine with the compass, right?” He made sure, partially to prove he was right, and partially to make sure.

 

Steve looked taken aback at the entire, interjected, conversation. “Uh, yeah.” He tried shaking it off, “Yes. It's all very helpful, thank you, Bob. Again.”

 

And felt none of the last twenty years, as he was called ‘Howard’s son’, and nothing more. Last person who said something like that was Steve, nearly six years ago. And even that didn't feel so serious. Tony taught the urge to stiffen. He was already wearing sunglasses, but for a moment it barely felt like enough. He pushed on.

 

“Don't worry your heads about a thing.” Tony chided, with faux joviality. “We can find this in no time. Easy-peasy.”

 

A hand touched his back. Assuring, careful, and friendly. Steve didn't acknowledge putting it there in the slightest. “How big is the range on this?”

 

“About five hundred miles before the paper is completely black. It'll glow the same you just saw,” Walker gestured to Reynolds, vaguely, “Within ten feet. But it's not hard to miss when it gets brighter, otherwise.” 

 

Tony stared at the image in his hand, the corner like an inky void rather than simply dark paper. What could possibly be in that book to warrant such a reaction? Did it have an actual super serum recipe? How were vampires related -- other than the one clearly entangled with the writer?

 

Steve nodded. “Right.”

 

Tony really couldn't help himself with the inquiries. He was curious by nature, and in the moment of trying to keep cool being called a name that reminded him of a huge house with no one in it, he focused on something else. Hyper focused. So, he had to ask.

 

“Why such a safeguard, if you don't mind my asking?” He minded his manners, trying to be polite in hopes he’d get the answer.

 

His gaze fell scrutinizingly upon the couple, watching for any signs or body language that could tell him -- in the case they didn't answer. Reynolds didn't meet his eye, and he could practically feel Steve’s disapproval, but didn't take the question back. Walker’s shut, hard, but he didn't make a remark. He kept his eyes on Reynolds.

 

“Tony…” Steve started, about to call him out verbally for the first time this trip -- Tony was nearly annoyed he invited him, but really who else could throw on the charm quite as well. ( Natasha, probably. )

 

But, Reynolds cut in, voice unwavering. “No, it's fine, Captain.” He stared at his hands in his lap, as if making sure they were still there. As if he was still there. “It’s about Project Sentry. It's a-” Reynolds stuttered, finding the right words. “It was something the Military funded in- well, during the ‘Cold War’.” He did use air quotes. “Around sixty-eight, one of the president’s first orders were to bring back the ‘True American Ideals’, and ordered the CIA to create a super soldier. Any means necessary. Russia had one, you know.” He added, grimly.

 

“They thought they failed. For, like, ten- fifteen years. They did, kind of. But the serum was activated via being turned. All of the information is in that notebook-- even the classified documents. They're all in there. All written down.” Reynolds stressed, “If someone got ahold of that notebook, not only would they have an unstoppable vampire on their hands: they'd have an unstoppable, heavily enhanced super vampire on their hands.” He said almost hysterically.

 

Steve took that in, understanding with a nod. Clearly thinking and weighing that information. Tony couldn't keep his mouth shut if it saved his life.

 

“And…Sentry? What-” his eyes flickered to Walker for a moment questioning but keeping carefully away from cocky, “happened to him?”

 

Walker, sort of dumbly, points to himself as if the idea is absurd. While Reynolds doesn't seem to notice Tony’s glance. That is, until Tony raises an eyebrow, as if to ask ‘Are you not?’, disbelievingly. 

 

“Oh, no.” Reynolds intervenes, almost with a laugh. “John isn't a super soldier.”

 

Tony would like to protest, because he's seen Steve’s muscles up close and personal, and not to be crass but Walker had a very similar build. Blond, too. Tony’s mind thought back momentarily to the blond Reynolds’ hair turned to, but he was obviously just some sort of witch. Wizard? He was close to the old Sorcerer Supreme, so it wasn't unlikely .

 

“Though, I wouldn't be surprised if he was,” He directed a look at Walker, but went on. “No, but anyway. I was Sentry.”

 

Pause.

 

Tony was going to blame the fact he was practically running on fumes alone for the way he half-discretely looked Reynolds up and down. He was all soft edges, not to mention thin as a blade of grass. If he had any musculature, it was well hidden. Not that Tony was saying he couldn't be, but the idea the serum wouldn't change the baseline of a person’s physical appearance was foreign. It was supposed to put you at peak physical strength, and double what you were . 

 

“That's… incredible.” Tony admired honestly. A scientific feat that he’d genuinely want to know more about. Via the nurolink, he had F.R.I.D.A.Y. scan what she could. Body temperature, additional physical attributes, marking down estimated height, weight, and wingspan. A dossier, like he had on everyone else. Out of fascination, more than anything, but also just in case . But, as his A.I. tacked everything down, the eye and hair colour entries reminded him.  “But what about the red eyes? I didn't think that happened very often.” 

 

Or as brightly , he wanted to add, but kept his mouth shut. He was still trying to keep a normal distance between the concept of Vampires and himself, for the sake of his kid. Harley was having a hard time accepting all about vampirism as a whole, already, he didn't need a dad who blabbed to all of his coworkers. Nosey coworkers, if they found out. 

 

“That's actually because of the serum.” Reynolds tentatively explained, “Vampires still have human bodies; the whole thing with the blood regenerates the most important parts to keep going -- hence the whole ‘red eyes’.” Tony knows that much. Strange explained that when he went to the wizard for help. He, however, doesn’t say any of that. Reynolds goes on. ”But with the serum, my body doesn't deteriorate, at all .”

 

From Tony’s original knowledge -- mainly what he’d learned when Harley got hurt in the first attack. If Harley didn’t have enough blood to heal, his body would just… shut off those sensors instead of healing, preserving what blood he did have. Too little, and the pain would come back. Like pins and needles, and sore muscles in his atrophied limb. Granted, the healing would shut the sensors off, too, but not in the same sense. With Harley much physically stronger, his tolerance was also much higher, and his healing did most of the work to keep any pain away. The super serum was only slightly different with its healing. At least, James and Steve’s version, it seemed. 

 

The serum would momentarily cancel out pain, like extra adrenaline, and attempt to heal before it’d let go of that blockage. That being said, after a couple of hours, while it still healed acceleratedly, it wouldn't block the pain. Also, despite being engineered for such, wasn’t the fastest with healing multiple battle wounds -- even with the metabolism’s aid. Steve was the type of person who didn’t care in the moment, however unfortunate that may seem. He cared about the now, and the spike of adrenaline was a sure thing that he’d keep going. But, say, he tries to take down three helicariers after getting a military base to fall down on him, and fighting off Nazis more than once? Then, he was starting to feel it by the time he plunged face first into the water. Only to have the people care about him send out a search party for his unconscious body. Only to see him in a hospital bed because he pushed himself too far, once again. Only for those people to find out his healing factor had crapped out hours before, failing on him.

 

Tony blinked, shoving that all back down. He didn’t have the mental capacity for that right now. “That makes sense.” 

 

He had his own theories on all of that. No deterioration meant no needing to drink blood, or consume anything for the matter. Did that change things? Did he have all of his faculties back then? Tony would have to see if he could visit at a later date, or get a moment alone with the two. Maybe ask some questions to help Harley. He wanted the best for him, and these were to obviously older vampires, they could maybe…direct him. He was navigating with a pen light in the dark; knowing how to do things in theory didn't equalize knowing how to do things. Maybe they could turn on a light or two -- even a lamp was much brighter.

 

Reynolds looked at the two avengers, opposite of himself and Walker, finally with his eyes back up. Watching, more calculating, but never getting to the point of gold. Tony didn’t squirm under his gaze, but definitely would’ve if he was a lesser man. 

 

“I wouldn’t mind showing you, when you get it back.” The man conceded, which Tony felt was something much more than he knew the weight of. He couldn’t fathom it. He knew, over the last few years, he’s made and amended very public mistakes, and this sort of thing -- would trust be the word? -- was unfounded. Even Walker was slightly taken aback by this, if his subtle change of face was anything to go by: A slight widening of the eyes and taking a quick glance at Reynolds. 

 

Tony ducked his head, “I’d love to.” He said, honestly. It would also be a good way to talk to them about Harley, he knew. “And, thank you,” he added.

 

A small beep sounded within the quiet room, and Tony turned to Steve who grabbed his pager off his utility belt. He frowned at the message. “What is it?” Tony asked, hoping F.R.I.D.A.Y. would relay him the same information.

 

“It’s Nat.” He looked up at Tony, first, then the two vampires. Standing, and setting his pager back onto his belt, taking out his communicator instead, and excusing himself. He exited the house, and the door clicked shut behind him.

 

Tony decided if it had been truly world-ending, he would've gotten a message as well. He turned back to Walker and Reynolds. Conveniently, this gave him a moment to finally ask. Finally wonder. Finally help his kid in some way that felt fulfilling. And suddenly, for the first time in a while, Tony Stark nearly stammered. Nearly. “Actually, I have a question, for the two of you.” 

 

He looked away from where Steve had retreated, making sure his gaze didn’t linger. The way Walker was eyeing him, he wasn’t so sure he succeeded. Either way, he put out a hand, as if to say ‘ask away’. 

 

“Go ahead,” Bob replied, curious. 

 

“So, hypothetically.” Tony didn’t quite know how to frame the question, but really he tried his best. “If I knew someone who was a vampire, fledgeling, what could I do to help them?” He was trying to pose it as if he found someone within his day-job, but he knew the lie was flimsy. Didn’t add too many details, still -- just in case.

 

Walker leveled him with a look. “If they’re a fledgling, let their Sire take care of them. There’s not much you can do.”

 

“Maybe, don’t eat garlic around them?” Bob offered, on the contrary. “It smells, like, really bad.”

 

That… wasn’t very helpful. Well, the latter part, maybe, but all of the foods he’d made for Harley so far hadn’t included such a thing. God, he was going to have to spell it out,

 

 “But, what if they don’t have a sire.” He emphasized, looking directly at them.

 

Walker scoffed. “A fledgling would never be anywhere without their Sire. You wouldn’t baby out on their own, now would you?” He asked rhetorically. 

 

It felt like pulling teeth. Tony didn’t quite want to spell it out much more, but he was sure he had to, at this point. He needed answers. “Say, I knew someone who didn’t have one, though. Didn’t ask to be turned, young already, didn’t drink for the first month after he was changed.” He worked his jaw, swallowing. “How would I help him?”

 

Reynold’s face fell, Walker lost his cocky expression. “You actually know someone like this.” It wasn’t a question. Soft spoken as if it would stop the reality from tumbling from Reynold’s mouth. Tony didn’t reply verbally, just nodded while attempting to take a discrete deep breath. He didn’t want them knowing this affected him so much, even though they could probably guess by his tone.

“Well,” Walker stroked his beard, more grave than before. “What have you done so far?”

 

“Strange helped me a bit, but I feel out of my depth,” he admitted. “I got him some jewelry, cause Strange’s little booklet said it’d help.” Tony explained, ”He was wearing sunglasses, before, to cover his eyes; I made him something that’d display a hologram over, instead. He’s been covering his bite, and detests it.” His tone was frank. Every word that came out of his mouth made Walker’s expression more concerned. 

 

Walker wet his lips, trying to find something to say but obviously at some sort of loss. “And, you mentioned he was young?” He didn't seem like he wanted to know the answer, but needed to if he was asked to help. It pained him.

 

“Seventeen. Eighteen at the end of October.” Tony let out a breath, “He’s- I care about him. I’m his legal guardian -- I’m not even sure if his own mother has called him, since he’s been in my care.” Kathy was trying her best, he knew that before, but some of the messages she’d sent were a little manic. She insisted he take care of Harley, there in New York, rather than staying in Rose hill for an indeterminate amount of time. Harley wasn’t told that part. Tony agreed easily to take care of Harley, and Pepper was more than happy to take Harley in, as well. Kathy’s opinion on the whole matter had sounded far too close to what his own mother would’ve said -- or, his father. The final time Tony had called her to update, like he thought she’d be calling for, she had mentioned she was glad Harley was getting ‘back to normal’ -- she had clearly not listened to a word he’d said.

 

But, Pepper was somewhat hopeful that she’d come around, even if his fiancee refused to speak to the woman, currently. Things were breaking, and really Tony was lost out of his mind. When had Harley’s mom started acting so cold? So distant? It ate at him. 

 

Walker set his jaw, “Yeah. Not many people are too… understanding.” He looked off, into some sort of middle distance that held memories, unbeknownst to Tony. “I worked with the government for a while, and they had me listed as a mutant for nearly twenty years. But, you,” A pause, “With how much you care, you are likely his sire, already. He is like a son to you, right?”

 

Tony nodded.

 

He sighed, “Okay. For starters, you’ll want to make sure the bite is not infected. It should heal white after a month or so, but it will scar. If it’s still red, he hasn’t gotten enough blood to heal it.” As Walker explained, F.R.I.D.A.Y. was ever-so obviously writing down a list on his screen. “Make sure he has a safe place. Something secure that isn’t his bedroom. Fledglings- they do this thing while getting used to their instincts that makes them want to huddle in somewhere safe and warm. Kind of like a bird, which is why they’re called fledglings. He might drag you there, if he feels like you’re in danger.”

 

“And I know the state of your job, but when you can, let him. It’ll help settle his instincts.” Walker emphasised, “Do you know if he’s…fighting his instincts?”

 

Tony thought about it. Harley had attempted to, he knew that much. That time in his lab, metaphorical feathers ruffled when Tony knew he was likely the kid’s sire. He didn’t like the idea of the jewelry at first -- or maybe that was just the ‘where’ they’d gotten it from -- but he seemed to have no qualms against wearing the necklace. Well, except yesterday. He shook his head, no.

 

Wait. Yesterday.

 

“Actually, he did something a little off yesterday -- to his normal routine. He was on the roof in a t-shirt, not covering the bite at all, and jumped six feet in the air just for the hell of it. He didn’t really seem to know why he was up there.” Tony relayed, thinking about how Harley had looked. The shiny pink of his almost healed bite, the way he was slightly confused but agreeable to whatever Tony was to say.

 

Walker’s eyebrows furrowed, thinking. But, Reynolds was the one to speak up that time. “He might’ve been taking the perimeter. Protective instincts. The roof would’ve been a vantage point.” He gave a small, reassuring, look. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Sometimes, instincts take over, and you kind of have to listen to them. He’ll learn to control it, don’t worry.”

 

Tony sighed in relief. It wasn’t anything bad.

 

“Okay. Thank you.” Tony replied earnestly. “Harley-- my kid -- I just want him to feel comfortable in his skin, again. He was turned by some guy in a bar. His family was attacked and he saved his sister. And their first thought wasn’t to say he was a ‘vampire’, of all things.” A sigh, “He’s had a rough couple of months.”

 

“I’m glad we could help.” Walker agreed, a much kinder side to him than the cocky military man they’d met in the foyer. 

 

Tony stood, the postcard in hand. “I should get going. It was nice meeting you, both.” He waved a hand, goodbye.

 

“Of course.” Walker agreed. “It was nice meeting you, as well.”

 

“Feel free to come back anytime. Or-” Reynolds stood, rushing into the adjoining kitchen, and a moment later coming back with a small card. Written in messy handwriting was a phone number, with the area code ‘914’. “This is our line, if anything comes up.”

 

Tony took it, thankfully, and slid it into his blazer pocket. Leaving with a final goodbye.

 

Steve was waiting outside, on his phone messaging. He set it in his pocket as soon as Tony exited the house. He didn’t look too harried, despite his immediate departure, and wasn’t in a call like Tony expected. 

 

“Oh, we’re done?” He questioned, likely wondering if he should go inside and say goodbye.

 

Tony nodded, showing off the postcard in hand, “Yes, I said goodbye for you, don’t worry.”

 

“Okay then.” 

 

They started their small track back to the car. Steve looked anxious, fidgeting in a way the forties couldn't even prevent. He didn’t look Tony in the eye, and Steve took the driver's seat before Tony could. Right. So something was the matter. Tony waited for them to have a few minutes in on their drive before he asked, because clearly Captain working-up-the-nerve hadn’t yet.

 

With the greenery of Hudson Valley passing them by, Tony kept his eyes out the window as he spoke. “Okay, spill. What is it?”

 

“What?”

 

“What did Nat want? You seem… jumpy. Secretive. Sort of guilty looking.”

 

Steve glanged over, Tony kept his eyes forward. “Oh- uh. Found out her studio was still intact and somehow threatened you, and thanked you, in the same sentence. Just, normal stuff. Was also asking about the lower floors, but I told her that they’re not done.”

 

Tony squinted, finally turning so he could see Steve’s face. His face was blank, which was a lie unto itself -- if Steve was unhappy, he’d make it clear. His jaw was held tight, visible when he swallowed, and his eyes flickered toward Tony a single time. Enough, that Tony knew he was hiding something. Omitting something important that Tony needed to know, if his dance around it was any indicator.

 

“Steve.” Tony said warningly, not needing to remind the man about the last time he’d hidden something important. Steve was often an honest person, but always seemed to ask forgiveness rather than permission. He always seemed to do things his way. But, this wasn't that. Steve wasn't set in how he carried himself, not determined. Steve fucked up somehow, that much was obvious, and he didn't know how to tell Tony. “What happened?”

 

He flicked his eyes over, again. “Before I start, I want you to know it was an accident--”

 

Gee , that did not fill Tony with confidence whatsoever. He couldn't even think of what this would be. The unknowing made his heart rate rise, even though a waiting expression was painted over his features. “ What did you do?”

 

“--And you should know that you are allowed to tell me things on your own time.” He finished, turning fully to look at him then, with a nod and a half-failing assured smile. It dropped off his face the second his eyes were on the road again, and guilt furrowed his brows. “Ioverheardyou.”

 

It came out much too quick, and Tony just looked at him. “Come again?”

 

Really, anyone who expected more out of Steve Rogers was fully wrong. Living in the twenty-first century these last few years molded him into a strange mix between the soldier who never followed orders, and a thirty-year-old who was on social media way too often. It added to his wet-cat sort of demeanour, in his day-to-day.

 

“I overheard you.” He said a little slower, a little louder than a whisper. And when Tony’s blood ran cold, he of course added. “I’m so sorry, Tony.”

 

Overheard ? Tony had first thought. Overheard what ? But, it was obvious, wasn't it? Steve was only standing outside, and that house was otherwise dead silent, any Super Soldier could surely hear in those accommodations. He knew about Harley. 

 

“I didn't mean to- Natasha called me, we did talk. Just, when the call ended, I was about to walk back inside and overheard you. I’m sorry. You probably didn't want me to know, and that's completely okay.” He spoke fast, defending himself and apologizing as many times as he could. Blaming himself, but making sure Tony knew it was unintentional. The Tony Stark of six years ago wouldn't believe this situation in the slightest. 

 

Steve went on, explaining the same thing. How he was just listening to see where they where in conversation -- if he was interrupting -- and heard Tony call Harley a vampire. Very pointedly tuned it out and started texting Natasha, more so he could give him some space. But, he was apologizing. He told Tony immediately, bar a couple of minutes. But Steve kept going, and it made Tony’s heart race faster, in a way that would make his doctor scarily impressed.

 

“Just-- stop.” Tony cut through, shutting his eyes tight while putting his thumb and forefinger over the lids. 

 

Steve did. An immediate thing. Tony was thankful for the quiet, it gave him a moment to think.

 

He knew Steve had been attempting to heal their friendship, make it work one last time, even if he had to act beside himself to do it. Steve wasn't normally so quick with his words, but he was removing himself so far that this wasn't him. The overhearing… It happened. He was a super soldier. And, all too polite to simply walk in if he could wait for a break, or slip in during a pause. Tony knew that. Tony knew him.

 

And, Harley… Tony will make sure to tell him that Steve knows. Steve, at the very least, proved that he didn't have a problem with vampires. Wasn't entirely confused by them, as it was just another thing the new century brought forth -- he was adaptable, if not anything. Yes, his heart was going faster than a McLaren , but that was happening pretty often recently in general. He's sure Harley will understand, he's a very kind kid. Thoughtful. 

 

Tony let out a slow breath, uncovering his eyes and running the hand through his hair. “I’m not upset, Steve.” 

 

The man’s shoulder’s slumped in the corner of his eyes, ever slight, but Tony knew him. Tony knew Steve’s microexpressions as well as he knew the inner workings of his own designs. He was trying .

 

“I’m sorry.” He said, again. A broken record, really.

 

Tony smiled sadly. He didn't sound like it was only for the aformed moments. It sounded weighted with gold and past promises. “I know. And, I forgive you.”

 

Steve didn't thank him for apologizing, didn't say anything more, really. But the following silence was comfortable. Familiar. Far from stilted. Where forgiveness was fit to fester. God, Tony promised himself a nap as soon as he got back home. 

♡

.

Spider-man:

[Image Attached: Photo of white cat with a blue collar, laying in the lap of a costumed Spider-man. Taken from his perspective.]

cat  

 

Me:

Aww

Notes:

- charmed is a show from the late nineties into the early two thousands abt three magical sisters (and others kinda?) who save the world using magic. cole (the guy theyre arguing abt in episode) was played by the same actor for doom in 2005's fantastic four. fun fact :3c
- also idk if i mentioned this... since i started this before seeing fantastic four, the characters/storyline is largely theirs if it took place in the mcu. i might integrate some alt personalities from those versions of the characters, but for now this is how it is lol
- Latin book: populus silvarum, meaning people of the woods.
- Tibetan Book: sgyu ma min pa'i sgyu ma, meaning magic that is not magic
- mclaren is a really fast car

i just wanted you all to know that i had a note on a steve and tony dialogue scene that said 'whenever they look at each other, casual by chappel roan starts playing in the distance. not on purpose, they just do that. also. originally it was just gonna be john a vampire who helped them, but i watched thunderbolts and now cant stop thinking of sentryagent so... :D this chapter opens the possibility for a prequal of them if any of yall are interested in that.

twitter: th3sungod

Notes:

OKAY SO. I started this fic MONTHS ago, and I was only going to post it when I was finished, but I've officially planned out every detail so instead I'm posting it NOW so I can yap about it on my tumblr (th3sungod, same as my twitter). I have five chapters written in whole so far, working on chapter six, and so far each chapter is roughly around 10k words. so, i hope you enjoy this! i dunno how often updates will be (i think comparatively i write a little slow so erm) but i'll figure it out based on responses to this chap!

A FEW THINGS (fun facts !)
- it's not explicitly stated but Pepper and Tony are in more of a Queer-Platonic Relationship with at the very least a sexual component. Tony is aromantic, Pepper is not, but they're otherwise still together and engaged.
- It's mentioned that Tony gave the Keeners about two thousand dollars monthly, which Ms Keener refuses to take more than. In their economy, based on where Rose hill is supposed to be and it being 2018, this is completely reasonable and Tony simply doesn't understand that. Two thousand dollars could keep Harley's mom from working, with how much it amounts to.
- harley is, in fact, a walking pinterest board.
- Tony only uses the term 'Wizard' around Harley to call Dr Strange, so he has no clue that the term isn't actually correct
- Cho shows up in printed scrubs because she was told she'd be taking care of a kid. harley is in fact 17 years old and almost 18
- Harley's instincts like Strange, but its not brought up for like the next few chapters

anyways thats all!! kudos and comments are appreciated !!