Chapter Text
"Kid, just come home. I know you can't stay with May and Happy, but you can do your coursework from the safety of the cabin." It's a conversation they've had for weeks now and one that Peter refuses to budge on.
"No way, Mr. Immuno. I'm staying right here."
"At least stay at The Tower?"
Peter sighs, pulling away from the sketch he's worked on all morning to turn towards the laptop resting comfortably at his right. Tony is in his lab at the cabin, tinkering on something or other, and the whole scene tugs at Peter's gut. He really wishes he were there.
"Why are you so pushy?"
This time it's Tony that sighs, putting his things down and turning towards the screen. "I don't like the idea of you being trapped in a different state. What if something happens?"
"Mr. Stark, if something happened, you wouldn't be able to help anyways. We can't risk it." Tony's been at the cabin for nearly nine months now. While Peter had spent a few weeks up there over those first few months, everyone made the decision that, given the state of things, those visits would need to come to a halt. It's a decision that weighs heavily on Peter and Tony.
Tony sniffs. "Yeah, well, Rhodey could get to you."
"He can get to me now," Peter says with a broad smile and exasperated head shake. It wouldn't be the first time Rhodey had bailed the kid out of a situation. Most involved Peter accidentally caught up in something too big to handle on his own. And, well, some of them were merely bailing him out of a situation he needed help on but really didn't want to worry Tony about.
"C'mon, Pete. The Tower would be way more comfortable than your shoebox dorm."
Peter rolls his eyes. "Tony, you helped me decide on this apartment, and you bullied me into letting you cover the first six months' rent."
It's not at all a shoebox. Peter had looked at several apartments that could be defined as such, but Tony had wrinkled his nose at each one and, hands on Pete's shoulders, frog marched him out. The one he'd settled on ended up being a compromise. It's larger than Peter had aimed for, mostly in the kitchen area, but he can't say that he doesn't love it.
"Potato, potato." Tony's tone is dismissive, pronouncing both words the same way as he picks up a previously discarded StarkPad.
"I'm fine, Mr. Stark. Really."
"Mmm," he says, dipping his head to look over the top of his glasses as he swipes left and right. "I'll believe that tomorrow, Kid."
"You're being usually vague."
"Just be awake and at your window at eight in the morning."
"Eight in the morning? "
"Eight in the morning," Tony confirms, mischievously grinning at the camera. Before Peter can respond properly Tony tilts his head. "Oh, can you hear that? That's Morgan crying- Got to go love you, bye!"
The last three words are rushed, intentionally sounding like a single word before abruptly cutting the feed before a response could be given. Morgan had not been crying in the background; of this, he is sure. Peter shakes his head. Eight in the morning.
Ridiculous.
----
"Ridiculous," Peter whispers to himself, hands on hips as his gaze sweeps across the floor of his living room.
He's fairly sure he's never seen so many groceries occupy a single space in his life. Not outside of, ya know, an actual grocery store. Peter doesn't exactly have a small apartment, and, thanks to Tony, it's not entirely void of furniture. Even still, the square footage of his living area covered in groceries is overwhelming, to say the least. With a shake of his head, Peter pulls his phone out and shoots a text off of Tony.
hey fam, do you think this will be enough supplies
you know what underoos, you're absolutely right. give me six hours
It was a joke!
sorry, can't hear you over the drones that just took off xoxo
I hate you
then i've done my job as a not-parent to you right
--------
Tony doesn't send more supplies for the apartment. Still, he does ship a box of Morgan's drawings - including those with the macaroni frames - as well as a second box filled with the children's art and letters to Spider-Man.
Peter absolutely does not tear up.
--------
Online courses suck.
Well, that's actually not fair to say.
Peter relatively enjoys online courses. It's the courses that aren't designed to be taught online that makes him want to pull his hair out.
Typical online classes don't require video chats. They don't require trying not to nod off on your 9AM Zoom meeting because you don't know how to function like the adult you're supposed to be. Quarantine-ing really has emphasized how humans (read: Peter Benjamin Parker) do not know how to create and follow a routine when not required to actually leave their homes. Read: Peter sacrificing hours upon hours of his life to the Tik Tok void until shit fuck, is that the Sun??
It's just as he jerks upright after his forehead once again connects abruptly with the kitchen bar that there's a deafening screech followed by what feels like a floor rumbling collision. At first he thinks the volume is due to his, ya know, super hearing, but on top of whatever chaos is happening outside his door, the noise itself echoes through his kitchen in an unnatural way. It's then that he notices another student on his screen also flinching. Peter briefly leans in to eye the name of the other student - Harley Keener - before slipping off the barstool and heading for the apartment door.
The door swings open almost in sync with the door directly across from him -
"Nice pajamas," Harley smirks, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his left shoulder against the doorjamb. "I've always been an Iron Man fan, but Thor is alright too, I guess."
Peter goes red from ass to ears as he recalls that, while he's wearing a dark purple button-up with the sleeves cuffed up to his forearms, he's also wearing oversized pajama pants that are plastered with Thor's hammer and bolts of lightning. Of course they were a gag gift from Tony, who absolutely knows Peter thinks the Norse God is a hottie. Anyone who doesn't think Thor is a hottie is lying to themselves. It's just biology.
"It's a joke," Peter splutters, the embarrassment still flooding through him as he eyes Harley, who is dressed in tight dark washed jeans ripped above the knee and a sleek navy sweater, sleeves an inch or two too long. It's adorable, and Peter hates the man immediately.
Harley looks amused when he says, "It's a funny one. I mean, I'm laughing."
And then he has the audacity to wink - wink - at Peter before turning back into his apartment, letting the door swing shut behind him. It's not even fair. Having forgotten about what drew him to the door in the first place, Peter turns back towards the laptop knowing full well he's about to face Harley's continued smug grin. This time through the screen.
Peter Parker is absolutely doomed.
-----
"I'm absolutely doomed." Peter groans as he moves through the kitchen, pulling out ingredients that mirror the ones Tony has spread across his own counter.
"Have you always been this dramatic?" Tony holds a knife to the camera with raised brows, and Peter frowns as he begins pulling knife after knife from the wooden block behind the laptop until finally, he pulls the matching one.
"No," Peter defends petulantly as he observes the way Tony is shaving the zucchini. "May says it began about five years ago when someone eclectic crash-landed into my life."
He immediately winces, realizing it's been closer to ten for Tony. Neither of them acknowledges it. Instead, Tony snorts.
"Bold words coming from one of the most eclectic women I've ever met."
Peter ignores the comment, smiling instead when his eyes cut over to the line of crystals clustered together on each end of his windowsill. He'd give anything to see May right now. Tony's silence pulls him from his thoughts. He turns back towards the laptop only to see Morgan running full speed and slamming into Tony's legs in a quick hug before clambering up onto the stool beside him.
"Hi, Petey!" She haphazardly brushes the stray hair from her face. "I miss you! Daddy does too. Did he tell you?"
Tony rolls his eyes indulgently, disappearing out of sight for only a second before returning with a chef's hat that he promptly places snug onto his daughter's head. She giggles, and Peter can't help but echo it back.
"He did tell me! He also told me that you're keeping him up late at night. You know your old man needs his beauty sleep."
Morgan's little nose scrunches up as she leans an elbow heavily on the counter and turns to look up at her dad with appraising eyes. Tony raises an eyebrow expectantly, but Morgan only sighs before turning back to Peter.
"Yeah, he's pretty ugly."
Peter nearly chokes in surprise, which leads to a fit of coughing that he can't manage to stop laughing through. Tony looks affronted, tugging at Morgan's earlobe before hoisting her up in his arms and tipping her over until she's near upside down.
"Yeah? How do I look from that view, Mor? Do I look better now?" She's sent into peels of laughter as her legs kick this way and that.
It's not long before laughter fills both their kitchens. Peter has to ignore the tightness in his chest as he realizes maybe he should have taken Tony up on his offer to quarantine with them at the cabin.
-----
Peter is stretched out on his living room floor, arms outstretched as his eyes track the spinning blades of the ceiling fan, when his phone buzzes. He groans and let's his head fall to the side towards where his phone is lying just out of reach.
It's so far. Too far.
Rather than reach the extra three inches for the phone, he yawns and looks back towards the fan. He's so bored.
So bored.
Maybe a nap will get him through the next four hours until bed, where he can then take a twelve-hour nap.
When his phone buzzes a second and then a third and fourth time, Peter groans and with great effort rolls onto his side, resting his head on his hand as he pulls the phone closer with another yawn. Where he expects a text, or four, he is instead met with a series of back to back campus email notifications. He opens the thread to find,
hey thor, i'm wicked bored and strangely enough this biochem assignment isn't helping
meet me on the landing deck?
that wasn't a question
open your door
Peter's eyebrows knit together as he scrolls back to the top of the thread and spots HKEENER in the domain tag.
That has Peter's attention. He rolls onto his front, pushing up and clambering to gain traction beneath him but ultimately succumbs to socks against hardwood floor in his hurry to get to the door. Because damn if he hasn't thought about that Keener guy since their class/encounter last Thursday.
"Be cool. Be cool," he repeats - all too reminiscent of their embarrassing last encounter - to himself before pulling the door open. Harley's is already open, and he's sitting just inside the doorway, back against the doorjamb and foot as a stopper against the opposite one. He's wearing an outright oversized knit sweater and loose-fitting Iron Man pajama pants. Peter recognizes the pants for the gesture that it is.
Harley's shuffling a deck of cards and grins deviously when he spots Peter.
"Want to lose a game of Poker?"
-----
"You lost?" Tony's voice is thick with mock pain and disappointment. "I thought I taught you better than that."
"Liar. You know I'm too soft to pull off a Poker face."
At that, Tony snorts. "Absolute Golden Retriever."
Peter groans. "It wasn't even that, Mr. Stark. He's just so cute, and that made it hard to focus."
"Hormones," Tony says dismissively as he moves about Morgan's room, picking up after his little monster.
"I've heard Pepper call you a walking hormone." Tony stands up straight, turning towards a tablet he's got perched on Morgan's dresser.
"You have not."
"Okay, well, it's something she would say."
"That doesn't count. Pepper would never besmirch my good name out loud with slander like that."
"You're right," Peter concedes, voice all too innocent. "You do that all enough on your own."
"FRIDAY, end call."
Peter's laughter fills his bedroom as the feed cuts out.
-----
They've been doing this for nearly three weeks now. Every other day for an hour or two had quickly evolved into daily for at least three hours. It's casual, comfortable, and Peter wakes up every morning looking forward to it. He's hopeless.
Today, though, silence hangs between them for at least ten minutes - Peter waiting patiently - before Harley finally breaks it.
"They still haven't closed schools down back home." Harley rubs at the creases of his forehead, and Peter wishes there were more he could do. "Abby got into a fight today and was sent home. I think she's doing it intentionally."
Peter sucks in a breath because, honestly, how do you counter that? He had caught on very quickly that Harley Keener doesn't respond well to even the barest hint of pity. Now feels a lot like one of those times where listening is the best response, so Peter pulls his knees in tight and loosely wraps his arms around them, settling in. It had taken less than a week for the two of them to unravel their histories, and Peter really enjoyed hearing stories of Harley's past. And, apparently, Harley enjoyed hearing his as well.
"And I get it, I really do, but it's her third fight since January, and I'm starting to worry it might get in the way of graduating." Harley looks over to him with a frown. "It really sucks not being around for her."
"We'll smuggle her up here," Peter says cautiously, testing the water with a weak attempt at humor. "I know people."
"You have contacts that will smuggle people across state lines?" The corner of Harley's mouth quirk when it clicks with Peter what he'd implied. "Should I be concerned?
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Peter picks up one of the pencils he's been sketching with and throws it at Harley, who ducks with a laugh before tossing a whole ass spoon at Peter in retaliation. Before long, the two of them are in near fits of laughter, throwing at each other whatever items have collected around them throughout the day. Peter draws the line at the sausage he has leftover from breakfast, but Harley has no qualms about throwing the abandoned pieces of crust from his lunch. Peter absolutely does not giggle.
"Thank you," Harley eventually says, softly, after they've called a truce. Peter doesn't respond, but he shoots Harley an open and warm smile, chest fluttering when he receives one in return.
----
"I'm not saying I'm in love, Mr. Stark. But this quarantine has me a little quaranthirsty."
Tony's head tips back, and laughter rings through the speaker system as he suddenly stops chopping onions. Peter's not even bothering to follow along with the man this time. Their last attempt ended in his fire alarm going off and a series of roast texts from Harley, who could hear the alarms from inside his apartment across the hall. Thin walls make for nosey neighbors.
"I'm not touching that one with a six-foot pole." His laughter settles into soft snickering as he pushes the onions aside and pulls carrots in closer. "But I will say that I already know your apartment doors aren't a full six feet apart and if you venture any closer I'll have Rhodey drag your ass back to the tower."
"See," Peter starts, voice laced with amusement, "what I'm hearing is, Peter has no self-control, I'm already texting Rhodey."
Tony doesn't even bother in hiding his smirk as he taps the tip of the knife against his temple and points it at Peter with a conspiratorial wink.
"How about that? Spider-Man really does have super hearing."
"Mr. Stark," Peter goes back to whining.
"Mr. Parker," Tony mock whines in response. It has Peter grinning, but he can't let Tony know that, so he pulls the neck of his sweater up so that it covers his mouth. He's fooling absolutely nobody.
"It's really not just his appearance, though. I mean, shit yeah he's definitely the hottie across the hall, TM, but he's also really compassionate and genuinely hilarious. It's absolutely criminal, and I want you to have him arrested."
"Sure, Kid. Hello, 911? Could you arrest my pseudo-not-son's neighbor? He's dummy thick and will almost certainly tempt my kid into breaking quarantine. "
Peter looks absolutely horrified.
"What reality have I fallen into that Tony Stark - my Tony Stark - is throwing around the phrase dummy thick? That he even knows what the phrase means?"
Tony looks all too pleased with himself when he says, "I think you forget that you and Wanda are much closer in age than you realize."
"Okay, well, I'll be speaking with her later. Besides," Peter says awkwardly. "I never said Harley was thick. And I think after all of this is said and done, I'm going to, ya know. Ask him on a date?"
Once again, Tony snorts with laughter as he brings the knife down once more, having now moved onto cucumbers or zucchini. Like it matters, they're all the same.
"As long as it's not Harley Keener, I approve. Kid is a snarky little demon." The man says it almost to himself as an aside, not looking up at Peter when he speaks. If he had, he would have noticed the way Peter freezes.
"Tony, how do you know Harley?"
It's the rare use of Tony's first name that has the man's knife frozen in the air as his eyes snap up to meet Peter's.
"Are you telling me," Tony begins slowly, "that your hottie across the hall is Harley Ulysses Keener?"
"I'm telling you," Peter answers just as slow, "that if Harley Keener's middle name is Ulysses, he's going to hate me by the end of the week."
"Wow. Harley Keener. Shouldn't be surprised, MIT isn't that big."
"Did you- Did you know Harley was at MIT?"
"I should hope so, I'm paying his tuition."
"What the fu-"
"Don't you even," Tony cuts him off, knife pointed directly at the camera. "Six-year-olds have hearing as sharp as Spider-Baby's…"
"No, I don't care, back up."
Tony sighs and sets down his Crafting Tools.
"Do you remember me mentioning my little," he waves a hand around looking for the right word before settling honestly on, "fiasco in Tennessee?"
"That was you?" Peter bursts into laughter. "You destroyed half the town!"
"He told you about that?" Tony winces. "Makes sense, the brat."
"I mean, he didn't tell me it was you. Just some mechanic. I can't believe I didn't make the connection." Peter drives on, grinning openly as something clicks. "Awe, Mr. Stark, you upgraded his lab! What a softy."
"That stays between the two of you. I have a reputation to uphold."
"Mmm," Peter hums in thought, ignoring Tony's comment about something he's long since lost. "You don't like, consider him to be a pseudo-not-son, though, right?"
Tony narrows his eyes with confused amusement. "I don't, no. More along the lines of a long-distance mentee who I anticipate will become one of SI's strongest assets. Why, are you jealous?"
Peter huffs a laugh.
"Definitely not. I just want to make sure we aren't, like, weird pseudo-not-brothers before I make my move."
Tony rolls his eyes. "I think he's safely outside of our not-gene pool that you can create as many seven-step plans, for you to ultimately throw out the window and wing, as you want without any worry."
"Rude," Peter says out of habit, distracted as he absently pulls a notebook closer to him, doing nothing but proves Tony's point. "Listen, Mr. Stark, I should really-"
"Let me go because you've got homework to do?" Tony finishes for him, smirking because damn he knows this kid all too well.
Peter scowls. "I do have homework to do."
"Yeah, Underoos. I'm sure you do."
------
The silence between them is calm, companionable. Peter's back is pressed against the doorjamb, and he's idly sketching in the journal on his lap. At the same time, Harley sits in his own doorway, back against the doorjamb with his knees pulled in as he plays Animal Crossing on his Switch. Empty plates and silverware are scattered across the floor just inside their apartments, and in the hall between them lies Harley's phone, quietly serenading them with a playlist the man had made with the two of them in mind. It's sweet, damn him.
They've not been settled twenty minutes before Peter cracks.
"It's not that I ever thought Benjamin was a bad name, per se. Since, you know, it was my Uncle's." The comment is far enough out of left field that Harley cuts his eyes between his game, Peter, and then back down to his game with a confused expression.
"Um, okay?" Harley is as lost as Peter wants him to be.
"Yeah," he says again, trying to smother his grin and never pulling his gaze from where it's fixated on Harley's fingers. They slowly come to a stop, tilting the Switch back so he can give Peter his full attention. "I never thought it bad, just. Outdated, I guess? But now I think to myself - Damn. You know what would be even more outdated?"
A beat.
"Ulysses."
He has to bite his lip not to laugh outright when he glances up and sees the absolutely horrified look on Harley's face. Mouth slightly ajar and Switch loose in his hands before his expression twists into a scowl.
"You hacked the systems, didn't you?"
"No," Peter says, working hard still not to laugh. "I discovered this treasure the good ole' fashion way."
"You sold your body for information?" Harley deadpans. This time it's Peter who scowls if only to hide the way his cheeks flush.
"Well, I know your powers don't reach that far and wide." The man has wholly abandoned the Switch. He now has his arms crossed over his chest with a raised brow that Peter has become very accustomed to over the last however long it has been.
"Mine don't," Peter concedes. "But Tony Stark's do."
The satisfaction in Peter's heart sings when Harley's jaw drops sufficiently for only a moment as he grips the doorjamb opposite him and hoists himself to his feet.
"How the fuck do you know Tony Stark? And how the fuck does he knows that we know each other?"
The amusement coloring Peter's expression drains. He might not have thought this conversation all the way through, far too eager to witness Harley's reaction.
"I'm his personal intern," Peter says in a rush as he clambers to his feet as well. Somewhat less gracefully. "Or, was, I guess. Back home."
"That doesn't-" Harley shakes his head, brows knit together, eyes on the floor as if trying to puzzle something out. "Tony Stark doesn't take on interns. I asked him about it once over the summer between sophomore and junior year of high school."
Peter swallows thickly. Is he sweating bullets? He feels like he's sweating bullets. He opens his mouth to stutter out some lame excuse when Harley abruptly snorts in amusement. Something settles uncertain in Peter's gut when the other kid's confused expression turns to something far smugger. Much like that first time they met, he crosses his arms across his chest and leans against the doorjamb. It takes a lot of effort not to squirm as Harley's eyes trail lazily up and down his body as if taking in Peter under a new light.
"Imagine that. Spider-Man is one attractive son of a gun." He's sucking on the inside of his cheek with an arrogant amusement, waiting.
Peter is relatively confident that the way his mouth opens and closes as he tries to come up with something to say is a dead giveaway. But if he had any doubts, the way he finally blurts out "I'm not attractive" definitely is.
Harley bursts out in surprise laughter, one arm across his mid-section as he laughs harder than Peter thinks is necessary. Not for the first time with him, Peter flushes all the way down his chest as he realizes how chaotically that last minute has slipped away from him. It truly is criminal how quickly Harley had jumped from A to 12. You can't just hop the whole damn track like that.
He's uncertain as to what he finds more panic-worthy. That the hottie across the hall puzzled together that he's Spider-Man or that the hottie across the hall thinks he's attractive. Peter can only focus on one thing at a time, and his priorities have fucked off to Neverland.
"Harley, you can't-"
The man cuts him off with a hand he lazily waves between them. "Relax, Parker. I'm not going to out you to the world. Nobody wants Tony Stark as an enemy."
Harley's open expression and wide grin have something shifting in Peter's chest that he doesn't even need to bother exploring later. In the meantime, he shifts from foot to foot, wishing he could pull Harley into his apartment to - uh - talk about it more.
"And for the record," Harley continues, "you are attractive and, honestly, I think you know it."
"I don't-" Peter splutters before stopping short at the way Harley's eyes cut through him, daring him to disagree. Instead, he turns red again. "Okay, maybe a little bit."
------
"You didn't tell me he was a genius."
"Sorry, Underoos, I assumed the phrase SI's strongest asset would be a dead giveaway."
It's late in the evening, and Peter paces his bedroom while Tony, on the other side of the screen, is shaving in the mirror. The casual way they've gone about their day while video-ing has really helped Peter stay grounded - feel a lot less like he's trapped in a box.
"Well, you were wrong." He comes to a stop, crossing his arms and staring directly into the webcam. It's then that Pepper dances into view, approaching the counter and spinning around to hop up so that she's sitting on it, legs swinging.
"Hey, Pete. Heard that you're breaking up with Thor for the hottie across the hall." She's trying and failing to keep a straight face.
"Real funny, Pep. Laugh it up while I'm having a crisis."
Tony's burst of laughter is so abrupt that he nicks the skin along his jaw. Peter winces, and Pepper frowns, but the man waves her off, pressing a cool towel to his face as he finally turns head on towards the camera.
"Okay, listen to me very carefully, Peter Parker." The kid in question takes an automatic step towards his laptop where it's perched on the dresser. "Only one of us is allowed to be this dramatic, and I got here first, so you're going to have to suck it up until I die."
Peter groans, and Pepper finally caves. Her laughter rings through their bathroom as she wraps a hand around Tony's upper arm and leans in until her forehead rests against his shoulder. "Leave him alone, Tony. He's having a crisis, didn't you hear?"
"Yeah!" Peter pipes in. "I'm having a midlife crisis. You should be empathizing with me. Haven't you had like six?"
"Disrespectful," Tony points at the camera while, beside him, Pepper's laughter begins anew. "You're like twelve, Pete. Relax about it."
"He could be the love of my life, Mr. Stark. Harley could be your future not-son-in-law!" Of course, Peter doesn't actually feel this way, but yes, he's feeling particularly dramatic and petulant.
Pepper starts waving her hands in front of her face, head shaking as she gasps out 'the two of you are too much to handle tonight' and staggers out of the bathroom, still caught up in a giggle fit she can't quite shake.
"I take all of the theatrics means you aren't losing your shit over the fact that he knows you're Spider-Man?" Tony leans back against the bathroom counter and crosses his arms over his chest.
Peter sighs heavily. "Is it weird that we've only been talking for a month or two, and I really genuinely trust him?"
Tony shrugs his shoulders. "I mean, probably. But I'm not exactly the authority on living a superhero double life, am I?"
"I'm not so sure you're an authority on anything, really." Peter grins weakly.
Tony guffaws, but his tone is soft when he shoots back, "Brat."
Peter actually feels a lot better after talking things over with Tony. When Peter had called Tony, panicked more over the fact that Harley had called him attractive than his discovering Pete's alter ego, the man had excused himself early from his dinner.
-------
"I don't like this game at all."
Tony pouts, watching Harley and Morgan whisper to each other on the couch in the living room. Every now and then Morgan will erupt into peels of laughter, Harley will glance over towards Tony and Peter, and then shush the little girl with a finger to his lips.
It's been nearly five months now since Harley and Peter met. And less than seventy-two hours since the two of them finally had the opportunity to wrap their arms around each other for the first time. It took Peter less than a second to melt fully into the embrace and another half-second before they were sharing in one, two, three soft kisses.
"Really? I'm sort of living for it." Tony's pout twists into a scowl that only serves to widen the smile glued to Peter's face. For all Tony's theatrics, he had been overcome with joy when Peter had stumbled through the threshold with Harley ducking in behind him.
"He's going to teach her all types of mischief." Tony turns towards Peter with an expression that very much tacks on, and it will be all your fault.
Peter chews the inside of his lip, struggling to smother his laughter when he says, "I sure as shit hope so."
~fin~