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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

my cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme (And All Of My Peaches)

@peachy-keener to the best of the best ;), and @angxlsgrxce, the extension of the prompt that she filled! the prompt was not taken quite literally: set during fall...but i think that it makes the best of it

Harley had grown up going to his grandparents’ house on his Dad’s side for years. He had grown up chasing his cousins around, Grams chastising him for being skinny as a bean pole.

“You’re just like your Papa,” she’d say, stirring the cider at the stove as Harley “helped.” (Ate most of the cranberries.)

“Good,” he’d say, mouth stained a brilliant purple.

“Not good,” Dad would say, swinging his son into his arms and peppering him with kisses all over his cheek. “That means I have two insomniacs.”

“But you also have a Pepper at your disposal,” Papa said, coming in from behind. “Hey Mama, thanks for letting our little bambino steal berries from you.”

“It’s why I buy extra,” she says with a wink.

As Harley grew up, he’d seen near-about-everything that happened. He’d heard all the stories, but his favorite was about the year Tony finally got to visit.

“They thought we wouldn’t know,” Grandpa said, cutting up the ham with a laugh. “My damn fool son thought that I wouldn’t notice when he was gone on somebody.”

“Language, dad,” he would say, and Harley would grin up at his dad.

“He doesn’t need a lesson in what not to say,” Grandpa would say. “And you’re ruining the story. Anyways, here they are, cuddled up in a blanket...”

Harley wants that. He wants to find someone he loves so much to bring home. He wants to dance with them in the kitchen when they’re supposed to be on clean-up, crooning to scratchy old records that made it past college dorm rooms.

He wants to look across the table and smile fondly, and hold hands with whoever it is.

His parents tell him it’ll be soon.

“Before you know it, my mad scientist,” Dad says, grinning. “You’ll find someone that you’ll take their breath away.”

“And hopefully it’s not because they’re asthmatic,” Papa quips.

Harley giggles.

“Goodnight bambino,” Tony tells his son. “Get good rest and wake up happy tomorrow.”

“I promise,” Harley says sleepily. “Mostly.”

Tony and Rhodey leave his room, and they smile at each other.

“It’ll be too soon,” Rhodey says to his husband. “And then he will grow up.”

“And we will be there for all of it,” Tony says, pressing a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Besides, I can’t wait to see who Harley finds.”

Harley meets a boy from Queens who talks a bit more than necessary, accidentally slapped him in the face while emphasizing his point about Jurassic Park during lunch, and has the most brilliant smile he’s ever seen.

He can’t believe he knows him.

Also, that they work together. Kind of. It’s an internship, but they also take most of the time to discuss conspiracy theories and challenge Ned with different programming games.

“What do you think about adding some extra web spots on the sides?” Peter asks him.

Harley is staring. A lot.

Peter is wearing a good shirt. Funny pun. He is the funniest. And the cutest. He has these laughter lines by his eyes that always come up when he’s laughing really hard, and it’s so cute, and--

“Uh...Harley? You okay?”

He shakes his head.

“Um. Yeah. I’m all good. You were saying about side-lining your webslingers? Why?”

“No, moving some to the side,” Peter says. “Like this.”

Harley frowns at the diagram.

“No, you splay out your hands too much when you’re Spidey. Web gets caught, you end up getting thrown at a ninety-degree angle or something. Skip it.”

“How do I never think about the most obvious things,” Peter mutters.

Harley has it on the tip of his tongue to mention that he is completely gone on him, and everyone knows it. Including his parents, which he isn’t exactly a fan of.

Especially since Rhodey has been behind Peter at his work desk, mock-batting his eyelashes and throwing hearts up on any single display screen that Friday has control of. (She essentially staged a coup, and Jarvis let her.)

“Dad,” Harley hisses out. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” Peter asks, grin on his face. “What are you guys doing?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Dad says. “But, that does remind me that I need to be doing something, and that is discussing Thanksgiving. We’re leaving for Grams’ early, around eight.”

“Then cider!” Harley says, grinning. He turns towards Peter. “What about you, what plans you got?”

“Oh, I think I’m going to attempt to make myself a mean turkey sandwich while May’s out,” Peter says. “Had to be on-duty for this year, but she gets Christmas off this year.”

“What?” Harley says. “You’re not going over to Ned’s or anything?”

“Ned’s visiting with Betty’s family, and MJ...I don’t know what she’s doing, but it’s something with family. She’s been sending me depressing poetry for half-an-hour.”

Harley snorts.

“Well that sucks, Peter. Sorry to hear that.”

“It’ll be okay!” Peter says. “Just means I get to watch Star Wars with no complaints from you or Ned about my choices.”

"I will find a way to have you avoid watching the prequels, they all suck.”

“Sure they do,” Peter says. “That’s why everyone still watches them.”

“It’s because everyone likes to make fun of them, not because they’re quality.”

Peter laughs.

“Maybe you’re right. But I gotta get going, Aunt May is trying to cook again.”

Rhodey winces.

“You want me to call Vietnamese food to-go ahead of time?”

“I’ll see if I can help her any.”

Harley waves goodbye, telling him to text when he got home.

“I’m Spidey, I know how to get home safely,” Peter says, smiling anyways. “But I will. Anyway. Just to humor you.”

“You have run into a telephone pole as Spidey before, you truly still think I have faith in you?”

“I think a little bit of faith. Maybe a tad.”

Harley rolls his eyes.

“Go home before May successfully burns down the apartment complex this time.”

“Will do!”

Peter smiles one last time before exiting.

“You, my dear son, are in love,” Rhodey announces.

“Dad!” Rhodey snickers.

“You did not learn subtlety from me, you learned it from your Papa, which is to say: you have learned no subtlety. It’s not my fault you’re entertaining.”

“Ugh.”

But Harley keeps thinking about Peter.

He knows that Peter is going to hate being alone, no matter how much he would actually watch the prequels. Peter hates being alone anyways. He’s always at least with someone, can’t stand being by himself.

And on a holiday? One that’s usually spent with family of some kind?

Well...it shouldn’t be that way.

So at dinner, as Dad and Papa are talking about some sort of update on a phone, and Harley says it.

“Can I invite Peter to Thanksgiving?”

Dad and Papa stop.

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Papa says softly, grinning. “I’m assuming it’s because he told you that May is on duty for that day?”

“Yeah. I don’t think...I don’t want him to spend it alone.”

His parents share a look, a look that they’ve shared a million times, one filled with soft understanding and so much love.

“I’ll let Grams know we have an extra guest,” Tony says. “After all, it is my turn.”

Dad snorts.

“Sure it is, honey. Alright, Harley, call him up.”

Harley grins, practically giddy. He’s excited to share this with Peter, to have him in this life.

(And yeah, he’s hoping that it’s like the stories that Dad tells him at night, the ones over iced water and quiet reassurances late at night.)

He presses the contact information, smiles as Peter answers on the second ring.

“Harley, did I forget something?”

“I don’t think so, no. But I wanted to ask you something.”

“W-what did you want to ask me?” Peter asks. His voice sounds faint, almost nervous.

“You sound weird. You okay?”

“Yes. I am more than okay. I am perfection.”

“Okay loser, don’t tell me. But I wanted to invite you to Thanksgiving with us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. No one should be alone.”

“I mean, I don’t want to trouble you. I can be fine on my own.”

“Peter, you are a terrible liar. You hate being alone. Besides, you’ve never had Grams’s cider before, and that clearly needs to be fixed.”

“You don’t have to twist my arm,” Peter says, laughing. “What do I need to bring?”

“A blanket and maybe a sleeping bag if you got one. If not, no big deal, we just usually stay the night since it can be a bit of a drive.”

“You sure you still want me coming?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Um...it’s family time?”

“You’re close to me, Peter,” Harley says. “And I want you around all the time. I’m just glad you wanna come. You’re gonna love Grams.”

“Okay. What time should I swing around Stark Tower?”

“Uh...lemme ask.”

Harley hops off his bed, phone at his shoulder.

“Papa, what time do you want Peter over for the ride?”

“Seven-thirty!” Tony says. “Unless you two want to canoodle before you’re stuck in the car with us geezers or something.”

“Stop!” Harley hisses, glaring at his father as he snickers. “Uh, Peter, did you hear any of that?”

“Something your Papa said made you yell, but nothing else?”

“Okay, get here by seven-thirty in the morning, if that’s okay.”

“I’ll set my alarms.”

“Alarms?”

“Well, I don’t wake up that easily.”

“And here I thought Spidey-Sense was real.”

“Hey!”

Harley decides he’s made either the worst decision of his life or the best, and it all depends on if Papa catches him staring so blatantly at Peter.

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. He leans against the kitchen counter, and he’s still in an over-sized sweater with a scarf lazily wrapped around his neck. Harley really wants to fix it, just reach out. It’d be so easy, so cute

“Harley I swear to god, please get your bag in the car before it becomes like the worst-family-picture-event,” Papa says.

Peter seems to perk up at that.

Of course.

“What would the worst family picture be?”

Rhodey already has his phone out.

“Harley forgot his bag, which had all of his clothes. Only a Wal-Mart was open, and...”

Head-to-toe sports neon. It was bad. Harley was frowning with his brows lowered in an obviously-frustrated expression while Tony and Rhodey sandwiched him, obviously bemused by the happenings of the holiday.

Peter laughs.

“Aw, you were so cute when you were little,” he says, smiling. “Really cute.”

“Even in neon?”

“Well, you’re cute in anything. Even neon.”

Harley nearly spills his coffee.

The ride there is mostly quiet. Tony hums along to the music, smiling slowly at some as Dad explains how Papa was the worst dancer on earth.

“Not as bad as Peter,” Harley pipes up.

“Harley.”

“Oh come on, it’s cute,” he teases. “The way your arms flail like spaghetti is endearing.”

“See if you get a sandwich from Delmar again.”

“Oh the tragedy,” Harley moans. “No sandwich from Delmar!”

Peter laughs.

“You two get some sleep, Mama isn’t gonna stop bothering you two,” Tony decides moments later. “Come on.”

Getting to sleep is...not easy. Especially when you’re supposed to. But Peter smiles.

“Share a playlist with me?”

“Sure.”

Peter’s music taste is amazing. Seriously. Harley usually sticks with what Papa plays, although occasionally he’ll foray into some of what MJ plays.

Peter’s music is relaxing. It’s light, easy. There are undercurrents of a deeper meaning, and what the memories make it be.

The current song reminds him of the end of the summer that year, when they had an end-of-summer-picnic and he fell into the pond, and Peter couldn’t stop laughing and took about a million pictures of Harley actually in the water.

"You remembering that time I fell?” Harley says, grinning at Peter.

“I’m remembering how good my photos turned out,” Peter says, although he smiles. “You made a fantastic model. You always do.”

Harley turns red.

“Um, thanks. I always have a great photographer, wouldn’t you know it?”

This time, Peter turns red.

“I’m gonna try to take a nap,” he says. “Mind if I use your blanket?”

“Not at all.”

And Peter settles against his shoulder.

It’s uncomfortable, but hell if Harley minds it. He smells good, and he’s so soft. He probably needs sleep. Knowing Peter, he probably stayed up half the night with homework, or something that had been a project for SI.

Rhodey catches his son’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and nods.

After all, there’ll be more than enough questioning when they get to Mama’s.

Harley gently jostles Peter awake as they pull into the driveway. It looks like some cousins are already there, and Mama is already halfway out the door, most likely intent on attacking her son-in-law in kisses and hugs, and seeing how tall Harley has grown. (One inch, but now he’s taller than Tony.)

“My baby!” she declares, attacking Harley in kisses.

“Grams,” Harley whines. “I need to help Peter out of the car.”

“Oh let me see him,” she says, grinning widely.

“Don’t make him scared of us.”

“Why would we be scary?”

“I’m not mentioning the incident of 2011.”

“That was one time!”

And then Peter is out the car, grinning. His cheeks are flushed from warmth, and he’s already helping take out the luggage and the dishes from the car.

“You must be Mrs. Rhodes, it’s good to meet you.”

“Call me Grams, young man,” she says, eyes sparkling as she turns to Tony. “He reminds me of you at this age.”

“I was not nearly so scrawny,” Tony says with a wink. “I was charming and devastatingly handsome.”

“Oh yes, because nothing says devastatingly handsome like train tracks for a mouth,” Rhodey deadpans.

“And yet what did we do in your room? As I recall, you--”

“Tony!” Grams admonishes. “Not in front of the kids, and not in front of me.”

Tony smiles sheepishly.

“What can I say? I have wormed my way into your heart.”

“Unfortunately,” Rhodey says. “Peter, watch out for Tony. He can get away with anything, he’s Mama’s favorite. Even though I’m her son.”

“Well when you fix a finicky Ford in freezing weather, tell me immediately.”

“Still?”

“Still!”

Harley drags Peter, holding his hand.

“Come on, you have to meet everyone still.”

Peter is just a bit overwhelmed, but mostly laughing as Harley takes him around the house.

He meets Grams and Grandpa and hears all about Harley’s embarrassing stories, and he thinks it is rather nice, the dusting of red that Harley gets on his cheekbones.

It’s a bit odd. Usually, he and May just watch Seinfeld reruns on the couch, or sometimes May has a friend’s apartment that they go to.

They’ve given up on ever fixing an Official Thanksgiving Dinner after Ben, and maybe it’s too bittersweet a memory, or maybe it’s because when Ben died, there went the last of the talented Parkers in the kitchen.

So Peter is surprised when Harley leads him to the kitchen to help him prepare the potatoes.

“I make the best roasted potatoes,” Harley says. “It’s from the family cookbook, but I always add a little extra.”

He leans in conspiratorially, and Peter catches a whiff of his cologne.

“It’s extra onion. Don’t tell Papa-Tony-he’s been trying to get it for forever.”

“I shall promise,” Peter says solemnly, saluting. “Scout’s honor.”

“Were you ever in the program?”

“For a year. I dropped out after I accidentally almost became a missing persons case.”

“Please tell me it was because you chased a butterfly.”

“How did you-?” Peter splutters. “How did you guess?!”

“It’s a you thing, and I know you,” Harley says, poking his shoulder. “Now come on, help me peel potatoes before Grams makes you set dishes with Aunt Lola. She’s nice, but...talks a lot.”

“I gathered.”

It’s peaceful, almost. Peter works easily, handing peeled potatoes to Harley, and when they’re all done, helping chop them.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he says quietly.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Harley says. “I, um. I wanted you here.”

“You...you did?”

“You’re the best person in my life,” Harley says softly. “And I, well, I--”

“Harley!” comes a yell.

He seems frustrated to Peter’s eyes.

“What, Dad?”

“Come here and help me with an air mattress for your cousin Vince!”

“Why can’t he help?”

“He’s supervising your Aunt Jeannie at the store!”

“Why does she need supervision?”

“She watched Chopped!”

Peter laughs as Harley huffs.

“Well, we’ll come back to it,” he says softly. “Don’t worry.”

Peter finishes with the potatoes, and moves onto the onions. He looks at the stained page in front of him, and sees a small addition in Harley’s unmistakable engineer-block-writing about more onions.

He smiles.

He wonders if when he grows up, they’ll have a--

OH.

Well. It’s not exactly a surprising thought. He’s been in love with Harley since freshman year of high school, after their second week of gym when Harley dramatically decided to pass out and shorten the class by about twenty minutes.

When Harley looked back and grinned at Peter, right at him, it was then and there that he fell.

(MJ called him “the most love-struck boy in the world”.)

Harley bounds down the stairs, grinning as he sees Peter at the table, helping Grams with the cider.

“You’re trusting someone to help you after all this time?”

“You finally bringing someone after all this time?”

“Grams, I’m still young.”

Her eyes sparkle as she pushes some cranberries towards Harley.

“Picked out some extra. And I remember when your Dad was your age, don’t think I don’t have the guts to tell the stories.”

She gets up from the table.

“You know the recipe by heart, love. Help your guy with it.”

Harley slides into her seat, grinning softly at her.

“Thanks Grams.”

“I’ll come and see your results in a bit.” She smiles fondly.

Peter and Harley are alone.

“So.”

Harley turns red.

“So, um. Is it okay if I’m awkward for a minute? And I don’t know how you’ll feel about it, but I think it’ll be okay.”

“You’re always awkward,” Peter says softly. He’s stopped cutting up the oranges, knife laid to the side.

“Well. Um. Yeah.”

“Harley,” Peter starts out. “You can tell me anything. I promise you that it will be okay.”

Harley looks at him. And really looks at him.

“Can I...can I dance with you?”

Peter’s eyes widen.

“Really?”

It’s getting late, the night already dark for hours. The family is quieting down, and most have retired to their respective rooms.

“Yeah, really.”

Harley drops a record on the old player, smiling as the familiar croonings of Bing Crosby lift over the house. It’s a favorite of his dads: Only Forever.

Peter stills as he hears the lyrics:

Do I want to be with you as the years come and go? Only forever, if you care to know...

“You mean...?”

“I mean it all, darling. I mean it all.”

Peter smiles and there’s almost a tear in his eye as he leans his head on Harley’s shoulder.

“I love you, Harley Keener.”

They sway like that for a moment, and all is well. Harley breathes out, and he listens to Peter’s heartbeat slow down. It’s a good moment.

For their wedding album, Tony surprises them with a picture of their first dance. The real one.

Harley absolutely does not cry and if anyone says that they saw him, they are lying liars who have received uninformed news.

(No matter what his husband tells them.)

#lovelyirony writes #peterharley #harleypeter #i like this ship a lot. i just liked making this soft #ironhusbands #rhodey #tony stark #anyways yeah #this is cute i think :)#peter parker #harley keener

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nagararitsu · 5 years

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Harley: *goes to jokingly try and pick up Peter, not actually expecting to, because Peter’s really ripped so he MUST be heavy*

Harley: *actually picks Peter up, and far too easily*

Harley: Peter, why are you so light?

Peter: Well that’s because I don’t really have bones—

Harley: You don’t have WHAT

#spider physiology #peter parker #harley keener #spiderman #harleypeter #peterharley #parkner #keenker #spiderlad #parley #incorrect mcu quotes #marvel #1k #1.5k #2k #2.5k #3k

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dead-inside-pt2 · 4 years

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Harley: hey do have the scissors I need to cut this can open

Peter: *hiding the scissors in a nearby drawer*

Peter: No I don’t have them

Harley: the fridge turned it into a slushy

Peter, opening the drawer: Oh here they are

#this was based on a real life event #marvel #marvel mcu #avengers #peter parker #spiderman #incorrect peter parker #incorrect spiderman quotes #incorrect harley keener #marvel harley keener #harley keener #ironlad #parkner #parley #harter #keenker #harleypeter #peterharley #spiderlad

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eveafray · 4 years

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Harley: Look - I'm gay, you're gay, let's be two-GAY-ther!

Peter: Wh-

#source: my friend #parley #parkner #keenker #harleypeter #peterharley #harley x peter #peter x harley #harley keener #peter parker #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #spider lad #spiderlad #spider-lad

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panwith1plan · 5 years

Text

Am I reading gay fanfiction in religion class? Yes, yes I am.

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thompsborn · 4 years

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sappy lines #16 and #11 with parkner please and thank you

16. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

+ 11. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

coming right up babey, let’s pine lads

—

There’s that moment, the one that feels like it came straight from a movie, where time slows down and the world goes quiet and everything goes fuzzy outside of the one place that eyes linger, the focal point of attention. In that moment, there is only Peter, standing in the kitchen and tossing an apple between his hands, and there’s Harley, standing in the doorway, hands settled in the front pockets of his pants and his eyes a little bit wide.

The apple rolls across Peter’s fingertips and falls to the countertop—not that either of them notices, of course, far too busy taking in the sight of one another in a not so subtle yet trying way too hard to be subtle way.

Of course, this isn’t really the first time they’ve seen each other dressed up before—there had been the big dinner they went to for Pepper’s birthday, where they’d put on nice button up shirts and clean black slacks and the nice shoes that Tony insisted on buying them—but this is different, full on three piece suits that kind of match in a very subtle sort of way. Peter’s curls are gelled with just enough precision to make them the perfect kind of bouncy and Harley’s hair has just enough moose in it to keep it from going haywire, like it usually does within the first thirty minutes of taming it, though it still falls naturally across his forehead in dirty blond waves that still appear somehow soft to the touch. Peter’s fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and brush through the ringlets, but he doesn’t, just averts his eyes after taking in the way the suit hugs Harley’s body perfectly.

“Um.” Peter clears his throat, picks up the apple again and takes a bite out of it, just to give himself an excuse to wait a little longer, mind blank on something acceptable to say. Juice from the apple drips down his chin in his haste, quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand before scrabbling for a napkin because he doesn’t want a single drop to get in the far too expensive suit he has on. Only after he’s dapped it away with the napkin does he try to look back at Harley again, knees going a bit weak at the soft eyes smile that Harley is wearing, looking some kind of fond and amused and a little bit timid, too. Clearing his throat again, Peter crumples up the napkin and tosses it in the garbage before saying, “You look, um—you look nice. It’s a good suit.”

“Yeah, Pep has great taste, right?” Harley agrees, leans against the entryway for the kitchen and looks away from Peter with a blush that could just be makeup but could be his cheeks flushing a bit as well. “Thanks, though. And you, uh... you look good, too. Or, um—nice, not good. Not that you don’t look good, ‘cause you definitely—you definitely do, but you said nice, so maybe you just want to hear nice and not—you know what? I’m gonna stop talking before I say something even more stupid.”

Peter’s lips quirks up against his will, beyond endeared by the way that Harley ducks his head in some kind of embarrassment, scuffing his nice dress shoes against the kitchen tile as he bunches his shoulders up in a weird sort of shrug. “Thanks,” Peter murmurs, takes another bite of his apple despite not really wanting to eat it. “When do we have to head down again?”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Harley tells him, “It starts in ten minutes, so we should probably go now. Tony said he wants us to be there before guests show up, since we’re supposed to, like, actually socialize with people and tell them about the charity and shit.”

Peter lets out a light laugh. “You make it sound like a hard thing to do when you’re the one who suggested what charity to donate to this year.”

“Oh, choosing the charity was easy,” Harley says simply. “Talking to a bunch of snobby rich people? Not so much, but, y’know, for the sake of making sure poor and homeless kids get shelter and presents for Christmas is worth it.” He shrugs, a forced sort of nonchalant attitude to his actions, and adds: “Plus, y’know, I get to spend all night watchin’ you walk around in that super nice suit, which is definitely a bonus.”

A moment of quiet passes where Peter feels his face heat up at the blatant attempt at flirting, eyes casting downward, takes a third bite of his apple before tossing it in the trash because he doesn’t think he can force down anymore. Then, when he can’t find something suitable to say—can’t grasp the right words, has always struggled to vocalize something as upfront as flirting, doesn’t have the confidence for something so blunt—he settles for meekly saying, “So, we should—we should go, then.”

Harley clears his throat, squints over at the wall with some kind fo pinched expression. “Yeah, we should, um—we should go. We should go.”

“Okay,” Peter murmurs, tried not to feel stifled by the undefinable feeling hanging in the air.

There’s that moment, yet again, where they meet eyes across the crowded room down at the charity gala, even when a sea of fancily dressed business people separates them, when music is playing through the speakers and chit chat is pleasantly filtering across the room. Peter is nodding along to something a bookkeeper for SI is saying and Harley is laughing along with an engineer professor that teaches at NYU and their gazes lock and there’s something there, an unspoken yet all consuming something that curls and twists and pleads with them without using words.

Peter looks away first, before he gets stuck there, staring into Harley’s baby blue eyes with a sense of everything filling his veins, smiles at the bookkeeper and keeps nodding despite not really hearing what it is they have to say. Harley keeps looking for a moment longer, swallows thicky before tearing his eyes away, and it’s left at that for the time being, settles in the back of their minds with an insistent sort of buzzing.

It isn’t until the end of the night, after they’ve raised over a million dollars for the charity and a majority of the guests have filed out of building to head home and the staff are starting to clean up, and they—as they always tend to do—gravitate towards each other, meet in the middle at the elevator and share little smiles but don’t talk until the doors have opened and closed behind them. Even then, it’s just Harley asking, “That wasn’t too bad, right?”

“No, it was pretty fun, actually,” Peter says with a light hum, clasps his hands behind his back because he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I got to catch up with Harry, which was cool, since we kind of stopped being friends when his dad sent him to boarding school back when we were, like, thirteen. And the food was good, too, and, um...” He trails off, tries not to sound as awkward as he feels when he clears his throat a bit and gives himself a moment to string together his sentence. Then, a bit strained and lacking certainty, he says, “Um, it was also—also kind of nice, seeing, um—like you said before, with you seeing me in a suit, y’know, but, um, the other way, with me getting to see you in a—in a suit. That was nice, too.”

He doesn’t look over, because he doesn’t think he really can after that train wreck, but he glances at the metal elevator doors and looks at Harley’s reflection instead, sees the way the ends of his lips quirk up in a small little smile, how he glances at Peter and then quickly looks away. It’s a cute sight, Peter thinks, even if he didn’t really get the flirting thing right, but he doesn’t have time to try again before the doors slide open on the pent house floor.

Feeling sheepish and unsure, Peter ducks his head to avoid Harley’s eyes, shuffles out of the elevator with a murmured little, “I’m gonna go, um, go to bed, probably? So, um, goodni—”

“Or we can watch a movie,” Harley offers, sounding a bit rushed with his words, stepping out of the elevator as well. “It’s not that late yet, and I’m not really all that tired, so, if you want, we can—I mean, in the living room, or one of our rooms, or—or whatever. If you want.”

Peter bites the inside of his cheek, look up at Harley with a barely contained smile. “Okay.”

There’s a glimmer of something in Harley’s eyes, some kind of excitement as he bobs his head in a nod and says, “Okay, then, um—your room, maybe? Since you already have snacks in there? I can—I mean, we could—the living room, too, if you’d rather go there.”

“My room’s fine,” Peter says, tone a tad bit softer than intended. “Ten minutes?”

“Yeah,” Harley breathes. “Ten minutes. I’ll be there. And I’ll grab some drinks, too. Soda?”

Peter nods, turns on his heel before he gets sucked in by the gravitational pull that Harley has on him, and quickly scurries to his room, knowing that there’s a pile of schoolwork on his desk and a mess of clothes on the floor that he wants to pick up before Harley comes in. Not that he thinks he’d be judged for the clutter, is well aware that Harley’s room can be just as askew as his own, but he wants to impress, in even the simplest of ways.

There’s that moment, the third of the night, where that feeling settles over them, when Peter opens the door ten minutes later in his lazy clothes and with his hair still wet from quickly rinsing the gel out in the sing, a few drops of water rolling down his face as he steps out of the way and gestures inside with a sheepish little half grin, as if Harley wasn’t in his room two days ago while they studied for a test.

Harley doesn’t move for a long moment, looks a little bit ridiculous with the hem of his sweatshirt in his hand to hold four cans of soda in the make shift pouch that the material makes, hoodie pulled up over his head and hiding a majority of the blond waves that he spent a solid minute tugging at because he didn’t have time to shower away the products in his hair and hadn’t thought of rinsing it out real quick like Peter apparently did. His eyes are stuck on how the light reflects off of Peter’s curls like a halo, has to blink himself out of it in order to step into the room and forces himself to ask, “So, what should we watch?”

“I was thinking either something funny or something scary,” Peter answers quickly, because he had spent part of his ten minutes debating that very question, wanting to seem prepared because he feels anything but. “Or a Christmas movie,” he adds. “Since we just had a whole Christmas charity thing, y’know?”

“Christmas themed horror movie, maybe?” Harley offers, trotting over to Peter’s bed and plopping down on it to make himself comfortable, releasing his hold on the hem of his hoodie to let the drinks roll onto the mattress beside him. “I’ve heard of a few of ‘em. There’s gotta be something good, right?”

Eyes lighting up, Peter settles in next to Harley, pulls open the bottom drawer in his night stand to pull out the paper bag full of snacks that he keeps in his room for the munchies that always seem to wake him up in the middle of the night. “I know exactly what we need to watch,” he says, kind of giddy and excited. “Friday,” he calls out, pulling a blanket over the two of them and settling the bag of snacks on the duvet for them to easily access. “Dim the light to fifteen percent and play Gremlins, please!”

Automatically, the lights go low and the TV turns on, the movie flickering to life on the screen. Harley hums, settles back against the pillows and says, “I’ve never actually seen this, I don’t think. Heard of it, but never watched it.”

“Shh, you gotta pay attention,” Peter whispers, eyes already fixated on the TV, but his mind doesn’t focus on the movie—which he has watched a thousand times by now, always seems to rewatch it with May every December and recommends it whenever he can. Instead, he finds all his senses trained onto Harley, hearing his heartbeat, feels his body heat due to how close they’re sitting, can smell the cologne he was wearing for the charity gala and watches his reactions from his peripheral as subtly as possible, smiles when he smiles and hopes that Harley actually likes the movie and won’t think that Peter chose something dumb.

Thoughout the movie, Harley makes the odd comment here and there, jumps a bit at the loud noises and giggles under his breath at some of the scenes, but otherwise seems completely engrossed in the film, doesn’t look away, barely even blinks, keeps his reactions to a minimum. Peter is so focused on trying to figure out if he’s enjoying the movie or not that he doesn’t really notice that Harley is moving closer, not until their sides are pressed right up against each other, from shoulder to elbow to hip to knee, and then he does something odd, tilts a bit until their heads are leaning together, as well, and Peter has to hold his breath to stop himself from actually gasping in shock.

“Um...” Peter’s voice breaks a bit, cracks on the exhale and shakes when he sucks in a sharp breath to try and relax a bit. “Harley...?”

“Shh, I’m trying to pay attention,” Harley whispers, and Peter can practically hear the little smile in his voice, the little smug like edge to his tone as he presses a little bit closer to Peter, doesn’t move his eyes from the TV for even a moment, even when he slowly reaches over to hold Peter’s hand, their interlocked fingers settling atop the duvet, and all Peter can do is stare at how their hands fit together, wonders if Harley realizes that his heart is thundering against his ribcage.

He doesn’t even realize the movie’s ended until he watches Harley pull his hand away, and, without really meaning to, looks up with a shadow of disappointment settling over him at the loss of contact, turns his head to see why Harley let go, only to find the TV off and Harley moving away altogether, no longer pressed to Peter’s side and staring down at his lap with a frown that’s barely visible in the low lighting.

“It’s late,” Harley says, kind of quiet.

Peter isn’t sure what it is, but he knows he’s missing something. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” Harley nods, still not looking up from where he’s twisting the material of the blanket between his fingers. “Past midnight, so...”

“You’re going back to your room,” Peter says, doesn’t ask it because the answer is pretty clear, and he tries not to feel upset, tries not to let the disappointment double in his chest.

Harley falters, then says, “I’m sorry.”

That makes Peter freeze a bit, confused and a little bit panicked because he doesn’t like that sad tinge in Harley’s voice. “What? For what?”

“For, y’know, the—the stupid flirting, and for holding your hand like that without even asking, even though you were clearly uncomfortable with it and I... I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

“Uncomfortable?” Peter repeats, frowning.

Harley shifts, leans further away from Peter and crosses his arms over his chest, shoulders hunched. “Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes downcast. “You got quiet and changed the subject, and when I held your hand, you sounded weird, and just stared at our hands with a weird look on your face. Like you were disgusted, or whatever. It looked like you wanted to let go.”

“I wasn’t... I’m not disgusted,” Peter says, brows shooting up to his hairline in surprise. He thought it was pretty obvious, the fact that he’s not really good at this stuff, but he supposes he can see it, the way Harley must have misinterpreted his reactions as something negative. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine that Harley isn’t actually there, hopes that thinking he’s alone will give him courage, and meekly admits, “I, um... I’m just really out of my element right now? I’ve never—never really, um—never flirted before, I guess? I don’t really know how to—how to react, or anything. But you haven’t... you don’t make me uncomfortable, Harley. You just make me nervous, ‘cause I don’t really even know how to act when I’m around you.”

Finally, Harley looks up, glances at Peter with what might be a little bit of hope in his eyes. “You don’t know how to act around me? Why?”

Peter shrugs a bit, swallows the nervous lump in his throat and gives himself a moment to properly piece together a response. “Because, um... well, I mean, I—I thought it was obvious, to be honest. I thought you already knew.”

Harley is frozen in anticipation. “Knew what?”

“That I, y’know...” Peter trails off, shakes his head a bit, and barely manages to choke out, “That I—I like you. Like. As more than a friend. And I don’t know how to—how to act around you because I’ve never actually, um—never really ended up all that close with my crushes before, y’know? But then we started hanging out and became friends and I—I don’t know what to do when you—when you flirt with me and hold my hand because I’ve never done this before and I really, really like you, okay? And I thought you knew that because you keep flirting and stuff, and I keep thinking that you like me, too, but then you do—you do this, where you pull away before I have the courage to do anything, and I just keep—keep hoping you’ll just do something, like—like kiss me or something, so that I can stop doubting if you really like me, ‘cause I—I think you do, but if you do, then why haven’t you kissed me yet? But that’s not really a fair question, either, and I shouldn’t—shouldn’t expect you to—”

There’s that moment, not the first, not the last, where soft, slightly shaky hands cup Peter’s face and a pair of lips press to his own, open and warm and inviting, cutting off his rambling in the best possible way. His eyes are already closed, so he just leans into it with a slightly hitched breath, reaches up to wrap his fingers around Harley’s wrist with one hand, the other hesitating before settling lightly against Harley’s waist, curling into the fabric of his sweatshirt as he tried to imitate what Harley’s doing, parts his lips and moves like he does, hopes that he’s doing it right because he doesn’t really have much else to compare it to. It seems like he’s doing alright, though, because Harley makes a dizzying sort of desperate noise that rumbles in the back of his through and he moves one hand to Peter’s hair and the other to the back of Peter’s neck and tries to pull him closer and deepen the kiss and Peter’s hands are shaking but he ignores it and gets lost in this feeling, this moment.

It feels like they must kiss for years before they pull away, panting and out of breath and wearing dopey little smiles. Peter’s words, everything he wants to say, is lodged in his throat and impossible to talk around so he just kisses Harley again and again and again, little pecks that try to say everything he can’t, until he finally stop and leans their foreheads together and takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I thought...” Harley trails off, clears his throat and closes his eyes. “‘Cause of how you kept reacting, I just—I thought you didn’t want me.”

“God, I want you,” Peter breathes, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve been crushing on you for over a year, Harley. I definitely want you. Like, one hundred percent, please date me, I really want to keep kissing kind of want you, y’know?”

A heavy exhale pushes its way out of Harley’s mouth, a sound of relief and an emotional sort of happiness, and he leans in again, kisses Peter with a sense of urgency, lips moving fervently and fingers lightly brushing through Peter’s hair, fingertips skimming across his jaw and mapping out the shape of his face while Peter just presses closer and hopes that this moment never ends, wishes that all of their moment, the eyes meeting across the room, the awkward fumbling through nervous compliments when seeing one another in their fancy suits, the heaviness of something unspoken weighing them down in the elevator while Peter stumbled through a compliment, the feeling of their sides pressed close together and their fingers intertwined and this kiss, god, this kiss.

If they did nothing but kiss til the end of time, Peter would be happy. God, he could die now and he would be content, holding onto Harley and kissing him, kissing him, kissing him, until he’s dizzy and warm and he has to break the kiss because happy little giggles are bubbling out of his throat and Harley just grins, a bit dazed and fond, and he loops his arms around Peter’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug, the two of them curling into one another and cuddling close together, and only when their little bouts of laughter have calmed down does Peter clear his throat and ask, “What do you think of Gremlins, by the way?”

“Oh, I want a Gizmo,” Harley answers instantly, presses his nose to the underside of Peter’s jaw as he snuggles into him. “The other fuckers deserved to die, but Gizmo is a precious baby and I would die for him.”

“I wanna get a cat named Gizmo,” Peter muses, eyes closing, every muscle relaxing into the mattress. “I think it’d be cute.”

Harley hums lightly. “Now I know what to get you for Christmas.”

“May and I can’t have pets at the apartment.”

“But I can convince Tony to let you keep a cat here,” Harley points out, shrugging a shoulder half-heartedly. “Don’t worry about it. Just maybe think about what kind of cat you want and let me know in time to go look around at nearby shelters. And maybe try to act surprised when I give it to you.”

Peter snorts, smothers a grin in Harley’s hair. “You’re crazy.”

He can feel the smile on Harley’s face against the side of his neck. “Crazy for you, Parker. Now shut up and go to sleep. Cuddling makes me tired.”

“Bossy,” Peter murmurs, but leaves it there, starting to feel drowsy himself, and when he drifts away, he’s still wearing a happy little grin.

#parkner #harleypeter #peterharley #harley x peter #peter x harley #harley keener x peter parker #Peter Parker x Harley Keener #spiderlad #my writing

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youre-killing-me-fandom · 4 years

Text

Parkner week 2020 Day 1: future au

This trope was not my own idea. Also, this is my first time writing fanfiction so it’s probably terrible. All constructive criticism is welcome.

..........................................................................................

The last thing Tony Stark remembered was the white-hot pain of the stones' power rushing through his body followed by the peaceful relief of feeling nothing as his surroundings slowly drifted away.

Yet there he was, standing inside of a building that looked strangely similar to the Avengers Compound though at the same time, completely different.

"Tony… you've been gone for over ten years…" said Pepper slowly with tears in her eyes.

Tony's eyes widened in shock. "What year is it?"

"2036"

Tony's mind had to take a second to process what he was hearing. He had been gone for thirteen years, which means Morgan should be almost eighteen, Peter 29, and Harley 30. His kids grew up without him; his baby girl was an adult; Peter and Harley had graduated for Christ's sake, from both high school and college. Tony couldn't have held back the sob he let out even if he tried.

"Oh Tony…" she gathered her husband in her arms. He buried his face in her neck and let out heart-wrenching sobs. His tears were beginning to dampen Pepper's neck when she started to run her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner.

"They were devastated, you know," Pepper began, "Everyone was, but it took them longer to finally accept that you were gone."

Tony raised his head and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "Who?"

"Harley and Peter," replied Pepper, "Harley locked himself in your lab for days on end and wouldn't come out until someone went in and forced him to get some rest. Peter wouldn't eat and hardly got any sleep from all of the nightmares he was having. It finally got to the point where Helen had to hook him up to an IV after he passed out once. That was when I told them both that you wouldn’t want them doing this to themselves. After that, they started to make progress.”

Another wave of sorrow hit Tony like a brick wall. His boys were so upset over his death that they neglected their own health. How many times had they willingly allowed themselves to be hurt because of him?

"But they got better," continued Pepper, "They were able to find comfort and start looking after each other." She let out a chuckle. "They were practically attached at the hip. Still are."

That made Tony smile. He was glad that they got along. He always wanted to introduce them but never got the chance to before the Blip happened.

"You should see them. You'd be so proud. They're both helping me so much with Stark Industries. I honestly have no idea what I'd do without them," said Pepper, as she wiped away the remaining tears left on his face.

"What about Morgan? How’s she?"

"She's amazing," said Pepper. Tony tried to make a comment about how of course she is, she’s his daughter, but Pepper just ignored him with an eyeroll. "Peter says she's the perfect combination of you and me with your brains and my business skills. God only knows one day the three of them are either going to take over the world or destroy it."

Tony let out a snort, "That sounds about right."

···································

They continued to talk about everything he'd missed for over an hour when Pepper let out a startled sound, “I forgot to tell you-"

"Hey Pepper, do you know where my..laptop...is…" said Harley as he walked in before making eye contact with Tony and tapping his watch, which turned into a repulser that was aiming straight at the older man.

“Harley?” Tony asked in wonder, tears threatening to spill again. Harley looked different from how he did when he had last seen him, but that was, without a doubt, him. His dirty blonde hair had grown long enough to reach just above his ears, and, Jesus, was he tall. The blue-eyed boy looked like he reached a height of about 6’3”, a full two inches taller than Tony himself. He was about to say more but was cut off by a startlingly hard voice.

"What the hell are you doing here?" yelled Harley. Pepper jumped up in alarm at the younger boy's harsh tone and stood between the two of them, getting in the way of the repulser's shot.

"It's not him, Harley." Not who? Tony thought.

Harley’s narrowed eyes never left the other man as he replied with a snarl, "Tony’s dead, so who else could it be?"

"It's not, I had Friday check to make sure it wasn't an illusion. Do you really think I wouldn’t think of that?" said Pepper, her voice laced with accusation.

Harley looked at her for a second before reluctantly lowering his gun “No...but then how-”

“Your guess is as good as mine. He said the last thing he remembers is using the stones against Thanos before ending up here.”

Tony watched them talk back and forth for another ten minutes while he processed what just happened. What did this person do to make him so hostile? Before he could stop himself, he voiced his confusion.

Harley stopped arguing with Pepper and turned to him with a sigh, “You’re really you, aren’t you?” His eyes searched Tony for any hesitation while he waited for an answer.

“Of course, who else would I be? Seriously, what’s going o-”

He was cut off by someone throwing themselves at him and wrapping their arms around him in a firm hug. “God, I missed you, old man.”

Tony relaxed in his grip and returned the hug tightly. “Missed you too, kid”

It took them several minutes to rein in their emotions and let go of each other, their faces wet with tears. Neither of them were ever really good at emotions, both preferring to make sarcastic comments rather than state their true feelings.

“So, you never answered my question,” stated Tony.

Harley looked at him in confusion, “What question?”

“Who did you think I was?” Tony both wanted to change the subject and satisfy his curiosity, but Pepper and Harley gave each other a worried glance before tentatively turning back to him.

“It’s a, uh, long story,” Harley said, “A lot happened while you were gone," but as he raised his arms to start explaining, Tony noticed something.

“Hold on a second...Is that a wedding ring?! You're married?!"

“Oh, well, I guess,” The blonde boy sheepishly rubbed his neck.

“What do you mean you ‘guess?’” Tony cried, “Who is it? Do I know them?”

Harley looked overwhelmed, but it was obvious that Pepper found this all amusing due to the bright laugh she let out. “I told you he would go crazy if he ever found out. Just wait until he hears who it is.” The boy glared at her for a second, wishing she wouldn’t encourage the older man. It wasn’t that Harley was afraid to tell Tony about his husband, but...he was kind of afraid to tell him about his husband. Both Harley and Peter knew that Tony had seen them both as sons, and they had mournfully speculated on multiple occasions what his reaction would be; however, now that he was given the chance to find out for himself, he was hesitant. Would Tony be mad at them? God knows that neither of them would be able to deal with their pseudo-father's rejection very well, especially Peter.

“Well, you see, it’s-”

“Tony?” Tony’s head shot up at the sound of his name.

“Peter! Wait, it's not-” Harley tried to reach out to the other boy, but he fearfully jerked away from the incoming touch, eyes wide. When he saw this, Harley’s blue eyes softened into something akin to hurt and a small sympathetic noise left his throat.

“Peter, sweetheart, you’re ok, you’re safe. It’s not Beck,” spoke Harley softly, as if he were talking to a frightened animal, but it didn’t seem to work. Peter began to hyperventilate the longer he looked at the scene in front of him. In an attempt to block out the illusion, he quickly shut his eyes and covered his ears, trying to defend himself against the more than likely painful experience he was about to have.

“Pepper, get him out of here!” snapped Harley, and it didn’t take long for Pepper to grab Tony’s arm and pull him out of the room despite the boy’s rude tone. At this point, Tony was very confused. He thought Peter would be ecstatic to see that he was back, not fearful. And who is Beck? The name is vaguely ringing a bell. Is that who Harley thought he was? What did he do to Peter that would make him have a panic attack the moment he thought he saw him?

Once he and Pepper were out of sight from the other two, they came to a stop. “What the hell was that all about?” Tony demanded.

Pepper let out a long sigh, and in that moment, she looked very tired. "Do you remember Quentin Beck?"

The second Tony heard the man's full name, memories of a brown haired man screaming at him rushed to the surface of his brain. That psycho was who everybody was so defensive against? Tony remembered the project they were working on. Beck was brilliant, but he had proven himself to be unstable when he tried to use an experiment with their work on an unsuspecting intern. After that, Tony had stopped the partnership between them and wrote up a contract that said Tony got full rights to the product and Beck would only get part of the credit since Tony had done most of the work anyways. He really hoped that didn't result in consequences for his protege.

But unfortunately his hope ended up being dashed when Pepper began to explain all of the things Beck had done to Peter in Europe as revenge for what Tony had done, from revealing his identity and framing him for murder to hitting him with a speeding train (of all things), all while psychologically tormenting him with illusions of his worst fears and most traumatic experiences. Apparently while Peter was on the run as an international criminal, Pepper and Happy had sent him to stay with Harley to lay low while they cleared his name and did damage control.

Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. His son had gone through hell and back in the wake of his death and Tony wasn't there to help him. Peter must've felt so alone, not to mention all of the PTSD he must've gotten from the whole ordeal.

Pepper saw the combination of anguish and fierce protectiveness on his face and assured Tony that yes, Peter had been through a lot, but between Harley, Happy, May, Morgan, and herself, he was able to mentally recover for the most part. He still has nightmares and panic attacks about what happened but he is now able to put the suit on and protect New York despite what happened to him as Spider-man.

Tony still had so many questions, but before he could voice any of them Friday’s robotic voice said, "Mr. Keener wishes me to tell you that you may make your way back to the living room."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Pepper slowly led Tony back to where the boys were, she cautioned, "Just give him some time. One of Beck's favorite things to torment him with was you."

Tony's anger flared once more. How dare Beck hurt his kid like that. It's a good thing he's dead because he definitely wouldn't be alive for much longer with Tony here now.

When they finally re-entered the living room, what Tony saw made him freeze. Peter wasn’t cowering against the wall anymore but was now standing in Harley’s arms with his face buried in the taller boy’s chest. Harley had his head rested on top of Peter’s chocolate curls as he serenely swayed the both of them back and forth and murmured something Tony couldn’t hear. He looked over to Pepper to see if she was seeing the same thing he was, but she was just looking at the two with fond eyes before quickly glancing in Tony’s direction with a smug smile. He raised his eyebrows at her in question but she just gently shook her head and cleared her voice to grab the others’ attention.

Peter and Harley both looked up, startled, before de-tangling from each other minus one hand. The former looked at Tony with hesitation and asked, “Is it really you?”

“Yeah, bud, it’s me,” replied Tony, trying to put as much sincerity in his eyes as possible.

When Peter heard that, he let out a sob and let go of Harley’s hand as he threw himself at his mentor. Tony was quick to meet him halfway in a bone-crushing hug, securing his arms around the boy as he turned his face into the younger man’s temple. Peter was openly crying with his head tucked into Tony’s neck, the tears on his face soaking the older man’s skin, “I missed you...so much,” hiccups breaking apart his speech.

“God, I missed you too, kid,” was all Tony could say in response.

It felt like hours before they let go of each other, them both trying to make up for the years they didn’t have together. When they finally took a step back, Peter went back to Harley’s side and grabbed his hand again, seeking comfort from it. That was when Tony noticed the gold band on his ring finger as well. “What the hell?! You’re married too?!” he shouted.

Peter, Harley, and Pepper all gave each other a look that lasted a little too long, and Tony felt like he was missing something, “What?”

“You really haven’t figured it out yet?” replied Pepper with a touch of humor in her voice.

“Figured what out?”

“I guess I never actually told you who I was married to…” chimed Harley, “It’s, uh, it’s Peter. Peter’s my husband.” The couple gave each other a look full of love and adoration before turning back to Tony to see his reaction.

Tony’s breath was knocked out of his lungs, “Holy shit, seriously?” He always knew the two of them would get along together like fire takes to oxygen, but he never imagined this. Though now that he thinks about it, it kind of makes sense. The boys are very similar with their love of science yet are complete opposites personality-wise. Harley is rough around the edges and prefers to avoid discussing feelings or showing his true emotions, much like Tony does. While Peter, on the other hand, is soft-hearted and does his best to think about everybody else but himself. Together, they seem to complete each other, picking up the slack in one part of the other’s life that they weren’t aware was weighing them down.

This time Peter spoke up saying, “Yeah, uh, we’ve been together for over ten years now. About four years ago Harley proposed to me and we got married two years later.” Tony’s heart dropped at the thought of missing their wedding.

“They were both pretty upset about you not being able to be there, so we set up a chair in the front with a picture of you sitting on it,” added Pepper.

Tony tried to will away the tears that were threatening to spill again but a few of them ran down his cheeks anyways. He was touched by their gesture and walked forward to engulf them both in a hug that they returned, “I’m happy for you, boys.” The two of them seemed to relax at that, but by then, everyone in the room was crying.

“I’m glad you’re back,” whispered Peter with a smile despite the tears running down his face.

“Me too, kid, me too.”

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