Archive of Our Own ^beta

--
And all I remember is your back, walking towards the airport, leaving us all in your past.
--

"Hey, you."

Harley's head shoots up at his daddy's voice, hoarse and rough like usual, seeing that he's wearing his black, patterned, worn out jacket, the one he always wears when he goes to the store. Harley frowns. He hates it when his daddy goes to the store. He always comes back late, smelling bad and acting weird. He always has to take care of his sissy on those nights, his mommy and daddy yell a lot and it always scares her.

"Yeah, daddy?"

The older man's face scrunches up funnily, before he rubs at his face, grumbling under his breath. "Take care of em while I'm gone, yeah?" Harley tilts his head, clearly showing his confusion, and the man groans loudly, rubbing his head harder. "You know," he waves a hand in the direction of the hallway. "Your mom and sister. Take care of them."

"Oh!" Harley blinks, his face brightening, a wide smile on his face. "I can do that! I'll take care of sissy till mommy gets home, and then I'll take care of mommy too! I will!" He bounces on his knees, feeling excitement surge though his veins. *I can do it, I can!*

His daddy lets out a long, long breath, and Harley giggles at his daddy's weirdness. The man glares at him, and Harley stops immediately, a pulse of fear shooting through him. Why is daddy mad at him?

The man sighs, and Harley sees him fumble around, taking something out of his pocket, and placing it on the table next to him. His daddy turns around, opens the door, but then stops. He looks over his shoulder, his dark blue eyes locking onto Harley's matching pair for a second, before he shakes his head, and walks out, shutting the door behind him.

Harley quickly goes to check on Abbie, seeing his sissy fast asleep in her crib before he walks back to the kitchen, and goes back to coloring in his coloring book that he had gotten at school a while ago, drawing red over the image of Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street. He grins at it once it's done. Red all over, with green eyes like mommy's. Now, he just needs a name. Harley hums, before writing in the top corner 'Tim the Happy'. There, perfect!

Just as he jumps down from his chair to go check on his sissy again (she couldn't be left alone for too long, mommy had told him once, or else she could get hurt), the doorknob jiggles, and Harley freezes in place, confused. Normally daddy doesn't come home that fast...

The door opens, and his mommy walks through, her dark brown hair messy and all over the place in her bun, and her work outfit is all crumpled and worn. She looks exhausted, but Harley doesn't notice through his excitement. Mommy's home early!

"Mommy!" He shouts, running to her and hugging her quickly, causing her to almost fall over from his body weight crashing into her legs.

"Woah!" She coughs out a laugh, couching down to his level and hugging him back tightly. "Hey sugarbear, how was your day?"

"Good! I drew a picture! Come see, mommy, come see!" He breaks the hug and grabs her hand, tugging it, trying to drag her to his picture.

She laughs again, lighter this time. "Hold on, sweetpea, I gotta take my shoes off first!"

He waits while she does, his whole body vibrating with impatience. He grabs her hand as soon as she's done, dragging her along as he marches back to the table. "Come on, come on!"

He jumps up onto the chair, crawling onto it on all fours, his mom grabbing onto it quickly so it doesn't fall over with a stern "Careful!" that Harley blatantly ignores, his attention favoring the picture. He sits on his bum, his legs underneath him, and bounces on the spot, radiating energy.

He pushes the page towards her, smiling wide. "See? See?"

She gasps loudly, holding the picture up to her face. "Wow, it's amazing, gumdrop! Always so creative!" She ruffles his hair, and he giggles, shaking his head to get rid of her hand, before sitting up taller, leaning forward to try and see the picture in her hand.

"I named him after daddy, see??" He points to the name in the corner, and his mom chuckles.

"I do see that, sweetheart, I'm sure he'll be honored." She lowers the picture just as her smile drops, looking around the room. "Hey, where is your father, Harley?"

Harleys smile drops too. "He went to the store again." He grumbles, his gaze falling to the table as he scratches his nail against the wooden grain.

Theres a pause, before his mommy speaks again, her voice sounding scarier than before. "Oh, did he now?" Harley just nods, keeping his head down. He knew his mommy wouldn't be happy. Why did he daddy have to go to the store? Why couldn't he just stay home, with them? "How long ago was that?"

"Ummm" He hums for a second, thinking, before shrugging, "I dunno. A while ago. He told me to take care of you and sissy."

"Of course he did." She sighs, seeming sad.

Harley pouts. He doesn't want mommy to be sad, he won't allow it. "I made sure to check on sissy while he has gone, and- and she didn't get hurt at all!" He puffs out his chest, proud of himself.

His mommy smiles a little, placing her hand on his upper back and rubbing the back of his neck with her thumb gently. "Thank you, Harley. My brave little boy." She squeezes his cheek at that, and he squeals, jerking his face away from her and pouting again. She chuckles lightly, before sighing again. "I can always count on you to take care of your sister, can't I?"

"Of course!" He lifts his chin, grinning.

"Good." She murmurs, pushing his blond, shaggy hair out of his face, and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

She then circles the table, walking to the small compact kitchen and grabbing a glass, pouring water into it afterwards. "Did you father say when he'll be home?"

Her voice is sad again, scary again, but Harley tries to ignore it, tries to make her happy. "No, but he left something before he left! Maybe he said there!"

She looks over to him, green meeting blue, her head slightly tilted, a frown prominent on her face, making the creases of her face show more than usual. "He left something?"

Harley smiles a big smile at her, hoping to help. "Yeah! Riiiight," he stretches over the table, pointing to the entrance, and the small side table placed next to it. "Over there!"

She takes a sip of her water, before walking slowly over to grab the thing, a piece of paper, Harley thinks he can see from his spot at the table. She starts to read whatever is on it, and Harley watches for a few second before getting bored and going back to coloring and doodling.

It stays this way for a while, Harley enraptured by his drawing of the Iron Man, a real life superhero he saw on t.v. one day, saving people's lives, while his mother seems to read in silence.

Until the sound of glass shattering echoes loudly throughout the house, and a loud wail from the hall follows suit. Harley flinches, his head shooting up to see his mom backed up against the wall, a hand over her mouth, tears falling steadily down her face, the paper shaking in her other hand and glass shards scattered around her feet, water pooled around them.

His eyes widen, fear shooting through him and a weird feeling in his stomach, in his guts. He's never seen mommy like this before. It's... scary. He hops carefully off of the chair, and takes a step towards her, his eyes filling with tears and his bottom lip trembling, worried. "M-mommy?"

Her head jerks up, her eyes glossy with tears that she quickly wipes away as she takes a shaky breath. "Harley, can you go check on Abbie please?"

Her voice is shaky, broken. Harley doesn't like it. He takes another step towards her. "A-are you okay, mommy-"

"Please, Harley. Please. For me?" Her pleas come out as whispers, her body shuttering.

Harley blinks, a few tears falling but he wipes them away, determination flowing through him as he nods, puffing his chest. Mommy said he was brave. He can be brave, brave like Iron Man! He can do this. "O-Okay, mommy."

He follows his sissy's cries into her room at the end of the hall, climbing up the side of her crib. Abbie is on her back, flailing around as she wails loudly. "Shh, shh sissy," he whispers, reaching one of his hands into the crib to wipe away her tears, the other hand holding him up. "It's okay, no need to cry!"

She whimpers, and he starts to gently rock the crib, knowing it soothes her. Her cries soften, and he smiles gently, the weird feelings in his chest easing slightly. "See? It's okay, everything's okay. Mommy's okay." He thinks mommy's okay. He hopes mommy's okay.

She slowly settles down, Harley continuing to whisper reassurances until she falls back asleep, her soft curly brown hair all over the place and her green eyes shutting slowly.

He climbs back down softly, quietly, before leaving the room and shutting the door again. He starts to walk towards the living room, but stops outside of mommy and daddy's door, hearing crying from inside. The door is closed, and daddy isn't home yet, so it must be mommy.

Harley frowns, feeling funny again. What did daddy write that made mommy so sad?

What can he do to make it better? He stands there, thinks of what his mommy likes before he has an epi- ephi- epifan- a good idea. A drawing! She liked his drawing earlier, so he could make her a drawing of all of the things she really likes! That'll make her feel good again!

And that way, he can wait for daddy to get home too. He always waits for daddy to come home whenever he goes out.

Harley races back to the table, starting on his drawing immediately, using all sorts of colors he knows his mommy likes to draw stars and flowers and a picture of their family, of Harley, Abbie, mommy and daddy, all together and smiling.

He draws more and more things, waiting and waiting. Waiting for mommy to come out and see what he's done. Waiting for daddy to come home.

His mommy does eventually comes out later that night and sees his pictures, smiling and thanking him, but the happiness doesn't go to her eyes.

And no matter how long he waits, minutes, hours, days, months, his daddy never comes home.

--
I travelled 1500 miles to see you. I begged you to want me, but you didn't want to.
--

Harley speed walks down the aisles of the grocery store, eyes shifting from one product to the next, scanning the metal frames for one specific logo, Cocoa Puffs. His absolute favorite cereal. He had begged his mom to get some earlier, but she had said no, saying it was too expensive (and too sugary). And, Harley knew they couldn't afford all that much nowadays but he was only asking for that one thing, he didn't need or want anything else!

So he had continued to beg and plead until his mom had finally given in, saying he could get one box of it, and that it had to last him at least two weeks. He had agreed wholeheartedly, and had run (or, speed walked) off to find his delicious treat.

He stops as soon as he turns down the third aisle, seeing rows upon rows of cereal and grinning. Finally. He snatches the brown box, the orange bird smiling back at him. He hugs it to his chest, about to turn away and go find his mom and sissy when he hears a rough, scratchy, familiar voice come from down the aisle.

He turns back slowly, not believing what he's hearing, who he thinks it is, but he was right. His dad was down the aisle, a bright smile on his face as he chats with another woman stood next to him, looking at different types of cookies.

He doesnt even notice the domestic scene, not really, his eyes fixed on the man in the picture. His dad.

His dad.

His dad that went to the store, but always came home afterwards. His dad that told him to take care of his mom and sissy. His dad that had left, and never came back.

He remembers the conversation him and his sis had with his mom two years ago. How she had told them their dad was never coming back. How his sissy, two years old at the time, couldn't understand, and had bawled for hours. How he had cried too, so lost and confused. How he had thought his dad was gone for good.

He couldn't understand, didn't understand. His dad was never coming back, and yet, here he was. Smiling. Laughing. Happy.

How could he be happy... Without them?

He doesn't even realize he's walking towards them until he is right next to them, whispering, quiet with shock, "...dad?"

The man's eyes shoot up, widening in some sort of recognition as the woman looks over to him, her blond hair up in a ponytail and her brown eyes piecing him almost furiously.

"Tim, who is this?" Her voice is clipped,  filled with anger and only a hint of curiosity.

His dad just keeps staring, looking like a deer in the headlights, and Harley takes another step forward, full of confusion and nervousness, an unsettled feeling in his stomach. "Dad? Where did you go? Why didn't you come home?" His voice is slightly louder now, but still hushed compared to the woman's.

She's almost shouting when she scoffs out as if this is ridiculous, "What is he talking about, Tim?"

His dad finally snaps out of his daze, but instead of being excited to see Harley, to know his family was still around, to know they're doing okay, something, anything to show he cares like Harley expected him to do, his body stiffens, his face scrunching up with bitterness and disgust, his eyes turning to steel as he spits out "Nothing. I don't even know who he is."

Harley's eyes widen, his heart cracking, breaking, crumbling in his chest, tears burning in his eyes. "W-What?" His voice is shaky, broken, just like his moms was that fateful night. He takes another step towards him. "What do you mean? You know me, I'm your son-"

"You are nothing to me!" He almost yells out, his glare burning into Harley soul, branding his heart with irreparable scars, and Harley take a step back, tears now streaming down his face. "Now, leave me and my family alone!"

*But, I'm your family! We are your family!* His mind screams after him as the man grabs his cart and storms away, the woman in tow.

"Harley?" He can barely hear his mom call from behind him, his ears are ringing. *I'm nothing to him, I'm nothing to him.* "Are you done getting your-" Her voice stops short, and Harley doesn't understand why until he feels her grab his arm, his hands still clutching tightly on to the chocolate cereal box, murmuring, her voice hard "Come on, let's go." and almost dragging him to the cash. He lets her drag him away, feeling numb, empty, his mind continuing with its repetition. *I am nothing I am nothing I am nothing I am nothing-*

He doesn't notice that they check out, get in the car and drive home until his mom is opening the car door next to him, and pulling him into a hug with a quiet "Oh sweetpea, I'm so sorry."

His grief suddenly floods over him like a tsunami and he collapses into his moms arms, sobbing and bawling like a baby. His mind doesn't stop, even as he let's everything out, even as his mom continuously reassures him and holds him tight in her arms.

*I am nothing. I am Nothing.*

--
But piece by piece, he collected me up off of the ground where you abandonned things. Piece by piece, he filled the holes that you burned in me at 6 years old.
--

*This is so cool!!*

Harley is grinning from ear to ear, staring down at the Iron Man suit laid out in front of him.

An Iron Man suit, a little worst for wear but still there, right in front of his own eyes. He was helping Iron Man, Tony Stark himself! And he wasn't dead!

*If only my bullies could see this!*

The twelve year old lets out a chuckle, and trails his fingers gently over the smooth metal of the arm, making sure not to break anything this time. He still felt kind of bad for the finger. Kind of.

Speaking of, he picks up said broken finger, and places it over his own. He whirls around on his wheely chair, holding out his hand as if he had the whole repulsor on his hand, blasting away enemies like Iron Man did, like Tony Stark did.

He may be acting like a child, but he doesn't care. He feels giddy, full of excitement and joy and hope, for once in his life.

He wonders what his dad would think of him now. If he was here. If he could see him, helping out a literally hero.

He probably wouldn't care. But that doesnt matter right now.

He wonders where Tony is, getting his mind off of those thoughts. Fighting bad guys? Saving the world? It had been a few days since he had told the mechanic to "just build something", calming him down from his anxiety attack (which he also felt bad for, but he was curious about things man, could you blame him?) And the man had told him he would and had hung up on him.

But Harley hadn't minded, didn't mind. He knew Tony was doing something important, he always was.

Almost as if the thoughts had summoned him, the armour shot off of the table, arms first, the finger flying off of Harley's hand, then legs and torso, and finally the helmet, all banging roughly against the locked doors of his garage.

"Woah!" He gasps, before jumping up and opening the lock as soon as possible, pushing the doors open and watching as the pieces of armour fly off into the sky, their destination set somewhere far far away.

He watches as they turn into small, tiny dots in the sky, and then nothing at all in awe, before whispering under his breath, hoping Tony could somehow hear it, wherever he was. "Please be okay."

--
And you know, he never walks away, he never asks for money. He takes care of me, cause he loves me. Piece by piece, he restores my faith that a man can be kind and a father could stay.
--

Harley limps back to his house, his eye aching and his lip busted, but he has a big grin on his face, feeling accomplished.

It was about a week or so after the armour had left, and he finally listened to Tony's words, standing up to his bullies, fighting back for the first time.

He knew his mom would be mad at him, disappointed when she got home and would tell him violence wasn't the answer, especially after seeing what his face looked like, black eye and swollen lip. But, he knew that Iron Man would be proud of him. That Tony Stark would be proud of him, and that made it all worth while.

He stifles a sigh, a small but pronounced ache in his chest rearing it's ugly head. He knew that Tony was going to leave eventually, that he had to save the would, had to save his friend, had to save himself. But, those few days he spent working alongside the superhero had made Harley feel like he had a purpose, like he was important in some way shape and form. And maybe even like he was wanted. Even if Tony constantly acted like he didn't want him around, he knew the older man had liked his company too. They were connected, after all.

Now that he was gone, and hadn't even really said goodbye, hasn't contacted him at all since, Harley felt... down. Not upset, Tony was gone for the greater good after all, but Harley still felt lonely again. His garage was empty again. He was all alone again, and it hurt like crap. Not that Harley would ever admit it.

He feels the weight of his loneliness on his shoulders as he shuffles with the locks, unlocking them and opening the door, freezing in place and dropping his backpack, his jaw dropping right along with it.

His entire garage has been upgraded, with brand new work stations full of computers and elecronics, new tools placed neatly on the walls, the place almost illuminating with a blue glow, the signature glow of the arc reactor, and right in the back, sits a older but still brand new truck, sleak and clean, like the rest of his garage that had been a complete mess only hours before.

He lets out a breathy laugh, his lip hurting as he smiles wide, from ear to ear, his entire face lighting up as he turns slowly, taking in more and more of his new garage. He does a complete 360, before stopping by one of the workstations, where a weapon, a gun it looks like, sits, a large note sat next to it, and his sisters Dora the Explorer watch next to that. He grabs the gun, hands shaking in his awestruck state, and reads the message quickly. 'Potato Gun Mark II. Your pal, the Mechanic'.

He lets out a loud laugh this time, fidgeting and playing with the new gun, before aiming it at a bottle hanging off of the curling and taking a shot, shattering the bottle instantly, the glass scattering on the floor. He giggles, feeling lighter than he has in years.

Tony didn't forget about him. Tony didn't leave him. He may have left physically, but he gave Harley all of this, so he must care about him, must still want to be in his life. He has to want that. Why would he do all of this if he didn't?

Harley continues to play around in his garage for hours, a newfound hope filling his heart.

--
And all of your words fall flat.
--

Harley was sat in a old, painfully stiff plastic chair, unmoving, barely breathing, staring forward at nothing. Seeing nothing. Feeling nothing.

How?

How could this have happened?

How could this have happened to her?

Why her? Why now? Why why why?!?

It doesn't make sense.

None of this makes sense.

She can't be gone. She can't be.

Can't be, can't be, cantbecantbecantbe-

"Harls...?" A soft, shaky voice breaks him out of his head. Barely, but it does. He looks up slowly, seeing a little girl stood right in front of him, her now wavy chestnut hair falling in front of her red, blotchy face, his emerald eyes gleaming, shiny with unshed tears. The twelve year old looked ruined, destroyed. Harley probably didn't look much better.

He swallows tightly, before straightening up slightly and holding open his arms. "Come here, sis."

She collapses against him, sobbing hysterically, her entire body shuttering, shaking with gasps and whines and wails. Cries. Cries full of agony, of heartbreak, of mourning, of another loss. Cries for a mother who will never come home again. Never make supper again, like she tried to do whenever she didn't work late. Never hug them again, like she made sure to do whenever possible. Never hold them again, whenever they had a bad day. Never kiss them goodnight again, like she always did, no matter what. Never again. Nothing, nothing ever again.

A few tears escape, and closes his eyes tightly. They were all alone. Fully this time. Their father had gone, willingly, and now their mom, unwilling, but gone none the less.

They only had each other now.

A memory runs through his head suddenly, a bit fuzzy due to time, but there. A hand on his back. A soft murmur from his mothers voice, soft, gentle, something he'll never hear again, "I can always count on you to take care of your sister, can't I?". *Always.* He thinks, opening his eyes and staring up at the ceiling, hoping, praying that whatever God was up there, if their was a God at all, that she was with him, and she was listening to him now. *I'll take care of her mom, always. I promise.* He presses her to him tighter as she starts hiccuping, rubbing her back soothingly, whispering reassurances in her ear. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay, I'll make sure of it." *I promise.*

"...How?" She croaks out after a while, once her cries have settled slightly. "We have no one left. No one, no one!" She bursts back into harsh sobs, and Harley's heart breaks even more if that's even possible.

"Shh, that's not true. We have each other, Abbs. You'll always have me." He murmurs gently, his voice breaking and cracking, even as he tries to keep it steady, tries to be strong. "And, don't worry about that, okay? I'll figure it out, I promise."

That seems to calm her down slightly somehow, and soon enough (time doesn't feel like its moving for Harley anymore, he can't tell whether it's been hours, minutes, or seconds) her sobs and wheezes slowly ease as she falls into an unsettled slumber, laying uncomfortably against Harley's chest, almost curled up in his arms. Harley takes a deep breath, and steals a quick glance at his baby sister, looking smaller and younger than she has in a while. She was growing up so fast, too fast. *And mom will never get to watch her grow up.*

His heart squeezes, and he feels breathless as he shifts them so that Abbie is laying curled up in the chair, still not looking comfortable, but good enough for now, and Harley is standing, alone in the eerily empty hallway of the hospital.

His entire chest feels tight, twisted into knots and heavy with the urges to scream, to yell, to throw something, to sob and break down, to grieve. But he can't, not yet, not while his baby sister was curled in a chair feeling so alone, not when he knew social services was going to be up their asses soon enough, trying to take them away, to separate them. Harley was lot going to let that happen.

Now he just has to figure out what to do, to make sure that doesn't happen. He starts to pace. What can he do? Who can he call? He wracks his brain, trying to think of aunts or uncles, of cousins, of family that lives nearby, but he can't think of any.

Well, he can think of one. And he does considers it for a second. Dealing with his father would be better than him and Abbie getting separated. But he would reject them, refuse to take them like he already had 8 years prior, so that was out of the question.

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it hard, painfully, but making sure to stay quiet so it doesn't wake Abbie up. He doesn't know what to do. There's nobody around for them. Abbie was right, they were all alone. They don't have a connection to anybody around here, no family-

Harley stops. Rewinds. Pauses his thought. Connection.

*That's crazy, you're crazy. He lives in New York!* His mind screams at him, but he pulls out his phone anyways, finding the contact that in bright black letters states 'The Mechanic'. His mom is dead, his father is gone, has been for forever and theres no other family around to take them in. Really, what does he have to lose?

He presses call, and walks away from the chair, holding the phone up to his ear, biting his bottom lip as it wobbles slightly, and squeezing his eyes shut once they start to burn. *No. Not now. Not yet.*

Its rings out once. *Come on, Tony.* Twice. *Please pick up.* Three times. *Please!* Four times. *Of course he wouldn't pick up, he doesn't want kids, he told you that, god you're so stupid, they're going to take Abbie away from you and it'll be all your fault-*

Just as its about to go to voicemail, a lower, rough voice grumbles heatedly "Whoever this is, you better have a damn good reason for waking me up at 5am on a Tuesday-"

*5am? Jesus.* Harley lets out a weak, wet chuckle, tears brimming his eyes no matter how hard he tries to hold them back. "T-That's when most normal people wake up anyways, o-old man."

There's a pause, some shuffling, then, "Harley? What's wrong? Did something happen? I swear if Roxie came back for revenge to somethin', I'll-"

"No, no." He cuts him off, his chest loosening slightly at Tony's usual frantic antics, something he usually laughed at but couldnt even condure up a smile for today. "It's-" A lump appears in his throat suddenly, clogging his words and forcing him to pause before he swallows and chokes out the rest. "It's mom."

He hears Tony swear softly over the phone, and more russeling. "What's going on, kid?" His voice is softer than he's ever heard it before. Normally their biweekly calls consist of catching up and bantering back and forth, teasing and mocking each other for the hell of it. Nothing serious.

But this? This is serious. And Tony can already tell. Must've been his voice.

He swallows again, the lump getting bigger, his chest getting tighter and tighter. He feels like he can't take a deep breath, or a normal breath honestly. He can only manage short, shallow gasps. "Ma, she's... S-she's..." A sob breaks through despite his best efforts, a shiver running through him as he whispers, "She's g-gone, Tony."

It all feels so surreal, but saying those words out loud for the first time makes his reality smack him in the face for the first time. She's gone. Honest to god, really, truly gone. Never coming back.

He slides down the wall behind him, curling up against the walls with his knees to his chest, sobbing silently, hand over his mouth, face flooded with tears. "Oh god, she's gone."

"Shit," He hears Tony curse loudly, with a lot more shuffling in the background. "Shit." He hears the sound of collapsing metal, and the awfully familiar sound of repulsors. "I'm on my way, okay kid? Fri, how long till we get there?" A pause, while FRIDAY gives her answer Harley assumes. "Ill be there in about an hour, okay?"

Harley nods shakily, even though Tony can't see it, feeling so much relief that he's coming, someone's coming, they'll be okay, and sniffles. "o-okay. T-Thank you."

"God, don't thank me for this kid." Tony mumbles under his breath, before stating louder. "It's no problem, Harley. We're connected, remember?"

And then he hangs up, and Harley is left to his thoughts in the quiet, empty hallway. Well, mostly empty.

He checks that his sister is still asleep, which she is, still hunched in the same position he left her in however long ago, and finally lets go.

He curls up even further, pressing his hand to his mouth to keep hinself mostly quiet as sobs and gasps come out, his eyes squeezing shut tightly, his mind repeating over and over *She's gone she's gone she's gone*, finally letting out his grief, finally letting out his loss, finally feeling everything he's felt since he got that call last night, or his morning, telling him his mom had overworked herself, telling him she had tried to drive home impared, telling him she crashed into a pole, telling him she had died on impact, no chance of survival. Telling him she was gone, *gone, gone, gone-*

He feels a head lay gently into his shoulder, a hand on his knee, rubbing it soothingly and he freezes, the thought of *mom?* passing by for only a second before he realizes the only person it could be, and he wipes at his face, trying to collect himself. "A-Abbie? When did you-"

"Shh," She shushes him, rubbing more firmly on his knee. "It's okay, Harls. Let it out, its okay."

And he does. He sobs, gasps, wheezes, and ugly cries all over his baby sisters shoulder, feeling like a failure, seeing how the roles have reversed, knowing how he was supposed to be comforting her, helping her, being strong for her, but he can't seem to stop now that he's started, and she doesnt seem to mind, reassuring and rubbing his back, his arms, playing with his hair, anything that she knows will calm him down.

They stay like this, even as Harley desperate cries turn to soft whimpers and shutters, even as he stops crying altogether, just holding each other close, comforting each other gently, telling each other without words that they'll always have each other, no matter what comes between them, no matter the hardship, the pain, the suffering, no matter the cost. They'll always be there for one another, no matter what.

Eventually, Tony does show up, looking frazzled and out of his element, which he very much so was, Harley knew that, still wearing his pj bottoms and a old, torn up shirt, his hair a mess. But he doesnt seem to care as he pulls them both into a big hug, saying how sorry he was for their loss as they both end up crying again into his shoulder, and telling them not to worry about where to go, that he'll take care of them.

In this small, group hug, with the smell of old motor oil from Tony and a hint of flowers from Abbie filling his mostly clogged nose, he truly feels comforted for the first time since that morning, almost soothed. He doesn't really know what's going to happen now, but he doesn't really care, focusing on Tony and the thought that he's going to take care of them. They'll be okay. They'll be together. That's all that matters.

--
I made something of myself, and now you wanna come back.
--

Harley smiles wide, teeth and all as he stares up at the electronic billboard, seeing an ad for a newspaper on it. Normally that wouldn't catch his attention, but what was written on it, what has been written on the news everywhere for a few months now, is what his eye is drawn to. 'TONY STARK AND HIS SON CAUGHT AT A PARTY, TEACHING HIS PLAYBOY WAYS?'

He doesn't even care that the headline is mostly insulting, he just cares about the first few words. 'Tony Stark and his son'. His son.

It was still a new thing, a brand new thing, really. A few months after their mom had passed, Tony talked to him and Abbie about getting adopted by him, and they had both agreed that it was a little too soon at the time. But, Harley had always wanted to be, even back then. So now that it was real, had been accepted and announced out to the world three months ago, a full year after their mom's death, Harley was pretty ecstatic. He sometimes feels bad for being so happy about it, feeling like he's insulting his mom that way, forgetting her, but he knows that she would only want him to be happy, same with Abbie, and that she'd be so excited for them too. That's what he hoped, anyways.

He feels a tug on his arm. "Come on, Harls! You know we can't stay out for too long!" Abbie whines, shaking him out of his thoughts.

That was the one downside to the adoption. They can't be outside for too long, or else people will start to notice and bombard them, asking for pictures and alerting the paparazzi who will ask question after question and then it'll just be a mess.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!" He laughs, starting to walk towards the mall again. They were out to get new clothes. Well, Abbie was getting new clothes. Harley was just there to watch over her, and because she had begged him to go with her, "I need someone to tell me if they look good or not, pleeeease Harley!". She had even brought out the puppy dog eyes. How could he resist the puppy dog eyes???

So here he was. Getting dragged into a teen clothing store, pop music blaring through the speakers and many crop tops to be seen, partially wanting to die. But he's here for Abbie. So he'll suck it up. For Abbie.

He's not letting her wear a damn crop top, though.

"Come ooon, Harls! Everyone is wearing them!" She picks at the fabric, barely covering her boobs, not covering most of her chest and definitely not covering her stomach.

Harley did not need to see this much of his sisters skin, much less have the public see it, thank you very much. "No, Abbie, you aren't wearing that."

She pouts. "Why not? Doesn't it look cute??"

He groans, running a hand through his hair. "It doesnt matter if it does or not, it shows way too much. You aren't getting it."

Her pout turns into a slight snarl. "I'm almost 14, Harls! You can't tell me what to do!"

He just glares back at her, holding his ground. "Exactly. You're 13, you don't need the media seeing all of this," he waves a hand at her body, and she huffs.

"Fine, whatever." She goes back into the stall, almost slamming the change room door behind her.

He lets out a long sigh, his gaze landing on the floor, rubbing at his temples, slight irritation and guilt running through him. *God mom, how did you do this all the time?* He wonders, the guilt starting to win over his anger.

*You know you're right though, she couldn't go out in that. Doesn't make it any easier.* He shakes his head to rid his thoughts, and decides to look around the store while he waits for her to try on her next outfit.

He sees more teenagers around, mostly girls, but a few boys too. Most of the boys look bored, like they're only there for their girlfriends/friends/family like he was, and he was about to look back to the doors of the change rooms when someone catches his eye, and his heart stops.

Longer, dirty blond hair pushed up into a quiff, shorter around the sides. Smaller, yet still striking hazel eyes, mostly brown, but with some green showing in the bright artificial light of the store. Softer features, with a longer angular nose, and defined cheekbones. Thin, plush pink lips. Tan skin.

Harley's first though is, *woah, he's beautiful.* His second thought is *What the hell?!?*

He jerks his head forward again, his face aflame, his eyes wide, his heart beating like crazy. *What the hell is wrong with you?!?* He scolds himself, glaring down at the floor, self hatred tightening his chest. *You know not to have thoughts like that. You know better!*

*I can't help it-*

*But you should! It's not normal! You know that!* Harley gulps, feeling sick to his stomach suddenly, feeling gross, wrong. He can almost hear his bullies taunts and sneers from here. *I have to be normal. I have to be. What is wrong with me?*

"Harley?" His head shoots up to his sister in her new outfit, a simple light blue tee with a higher neckline and a dark wash pair of jeans, with a few rips in them. Her jade green eyes full of worry. "You okay?"

He blinks, feeling tears in his eyes that he didnt even realize were there. He blinks more and clears his throat softly, getting rid of them before forcing a smile and changing the subject quickly. "Yeah, I'm good. I like your outfit, it looks nice!"

His sister looks unconvinced, still concerned, but thankfully lets it go and looks into the mirror, twisting around her body to get a better look. "Yeah? I like it too."

They stay there for a while longer, Abbie trying on a new more outfits and Harley forcing himself to ignore the cute- the boy who stayed wondering around the store, must have been a worker, before Abbie decided on a few pairs of clothes, paying for them and leaving. They went to a few more stores, with the same routine minus the incident until Abbie had plenty to wear and Harley was starting to get even antsier, wondering when the pin would drop, when people would start noticing them.

He had noticed a few whispers and gasps, people watching from afar but never coming up to them, never confronting them, so it wasn't too too bad yet. But it was getting there, and it had Harley on edge.

"Can I get some Thai before we go?" Abbie nudges his shoulder gently, playfully, her hands full of bags from different stores.

He looks around, seeing no one looking their way. One more stop couldn't hurt, could it? "Alright, but be quick, okay?" He couldn't help the underlying fear in his voice as they walk to the food court, the place swarmed with people.

Abbie rolls her eyes, giving him her bags. "I will!" She shouts over the noise, and scurries over to the Thai food line.

He leans against a pillar, watching her carefully from afar, keeping an eye out for media in the meantime.

He hears commotion, and a squeal come from behind him. He tilts his head, seeing two people out of the corner of his eye, both girls he thinks, and listens to their pretty loud whispering. "Is that Abbie Stark??"

"What?! Where??"

"Over there!"

There's movement, and another squeal. "Oh my God, it is! Should we go say hi?"

"I don't know, Kaylee, she's just a person."

"Yeah, a celebrity person! We should totally-"

Harley stops listening. Yeaaah, time to go.

He pushes off of the pillar, walking towards the lineup and looking up from the ground only to freeze as he does, his heart squeezing and ice cold dread crashing over him. Abbie was finished getting her food, but she was sat beside the Thai place, talking to someone animatedly. Someone familiar.

No. No. How? How did he-

Harley storms forward, pushing Abbie behind him mid sentence and standing inbetween her and the man. "What are you doing here??" He snarls out, seeing red as he stares at the older man, a mirror image of himself. His father.

"Harls, he says he's our dad!" She grabs on to his arm, her eyes wide, looking excited, hopeful. Harley almost winces at it. "Is it true?? Is he?"

Abbie was too young to remember their father when he left, too young to remember why he left. How he left. Of course she'd be ecstatic to see him again.

He grits his teeth, keeping his burning gaze on the man, looking more clean shaven and put together than Harley ever saw him as a child. "What do you want?" He spits out again, slowly, intense.

The man holds his hands up in surrender, a small smile on his face that Harley doesn't trust for a second. "I saw her up here, recognized her as my baby girl, and wanted to come say hi. I missed you guys, so so much."

Harley wants to laugh. Laugh and scream and cry, all at once. "Yeah, right."

"Harley, come on." His sister is scolding him, scolding him, her eyes hard. "He feels bad for leaving, and wants to make it up to us."

He stares back, his eyes wide, incredulous. "He left us, left us when we were toddlers, Abbie. Left mom to take care of us all by herself!" Abbie flinches at the reference to their mom, and Harley feels kind of bad. Kind of. "Why the hell should we trust him now?"

"He could've changed!" She argues back, his emerald eyes fierce. "Anyone can change! Doesn't he deserve a second chance?" She's pleading, begging, her eyes wide and hopeful.

Abbies always wanted their dad to come back. Always wanted their dad in her life, always wished for someone to be there to walk her down the aisle when she gets married, always wished for someone to have that father daughter dance with, especially after their mom passed away. Harley knows this, has known this his entire life. She doesn't know how he rejected him, rejected their family, their life. She has a blissful naiveity, the lack of memories giving her hope of a good man to be her father, to fill that hole that's been in her heart all her life.

Harley can't ruin that. Can't ruin that hope. That innocent. And, honestly, a small part of him longs to have their father in his life too. Even after everything. Not that Harley would ever admit it.

He turns his gaze on to the man again, taking a good look at him. Clean shaven, wearing a button up flannel shirt and dress pants, his shaggy blond hair way too similar to Harley's pushed to the side with gel, holding its place. He looks like he has his life together. Maybe he has changed.

"Fine. Give me your number." He states emotionlessly, still very apprehensive of the man.

But seeing his sister light up, hugging him with a beaming smile and a "thank you thank you thank you!", well. It makes it all worth it. Hopefully.

Their father scribbles down his number on one of the receipts they got, and gives it to Harley with a smile. "Thank you for giving me a chance Harley. I hope I can prove to you that I want to be in your life. Both of your lives."

Harley just hardens his eyes as he grabs the receipt, growling out "you better" as he turns around, and stalks off towards the entrance, his sister following behind him.

He can feel the man's stare on his back as they leave, and even still as they get in Happy's van, driving off. He feels his pale blue stare in the depths of his soul, and as he looks in the reflection of the window, it's like he's still looking at the man, even though he knows it just himself. Same eyes, same features, same hair. Just younger. It's something he's always hated about himself, being the mirror image of a man who abandonned him years and years ago.

He feels sick to his stomach, and, as he looks over to his sister, seeing her already putting his number into her phone a big smile on her face, he just hopes he made the right decision to being him back into their lives.

--
But your love, it isn't free. It has to be earned.
--

"How are you finding school?"

"Ugh, oh my god. Middle school sucks!"

He barely hears his sister whine, only half listening to their conversation. They're sat in the back corner of an old, run down McDonald's in the middle of nowhere, where nobody from the media would be able to find them (at least not easily), Abbie sat next to him on the bench and their father sat directly in front of the two of them. He's asking them (Abbie mostly) simple, conversational questions, things you'd ask when catching up with an old buddy, or meeting up with someone you haven't seen in a while.

The fact that their father is asking them these questions just proves how wrong this situation is. He should already know the answers, should be in their lives already, instead of only now showing up for some odd reason. None of this was sitting right with Harley, but he was dealing with it for Abbie, knowing how excited she was for this day, a day she had been planning for weeks, their father apparently very busy for someone who was trying to make up for lost time. Huh, weird.

He realizes his sister is ranting about the trivials and trifes of middle school, all of the drama and fights and stuff, so he zones out, his eyes wandering back to the same spot they have been since they entered the building, even though it causes his stomach to churn and his mind to rant *wrong, wrong, wrong-*

The same spot where a teenage boy sits, talking animatedly to a middle aged woman, too young to be his parent, but still looking similar enough to be family, a sister maybe?, his big brown eyes wide and giddy, full of pure happiness, his curly chestnut hair continuing to fall into his face as he rambles and rambles, no matter how many times he pushes it away. Harley's eyes wander down his more defined, chisled jaw, seeing his small button nose surrounded by little freckles, leading to full plump looking lips that are moving with each word, pronouncing and articulating every syllable, every vowel, his tongue flicking and clicking through every sound-

"-arls? Harley?? Hey, Harls!" He gets shoved in the shoulder and flinches, turning rapidly to Abbie, eyes wide and face burning a bright red. She's looking back at him with a knowing look, a teasing glint in her eyes that makes him want to curl up and die from utter embarassment. "There you are, welcome back to the land of the living!"

He blinks, smiling sheepishly. "S-sorry. What were you saying?"

She rolls her eyes. "Dad asked how your finding school."

"Oh." His voice hardens noticeably, and he looks down at his drink so he can't see the disapproving glance he knows his sister is giving him. "It's going okay. High school is high school."

There's a pause, as if they expecting him to continue. When he doesn't, his father speaks up again. "How are you finding your classes? Good? What are your grades?"

*You should know.* He bites his tongue, no matter how much he wants to scream it in his face. *You should know this. You should've been here for the past 8 years. But you weren't.* "They're fine. Easy, really. My grades are good too."

"Good?" His sister scoffs. "They're amazing, Harls! Tell him what you have!"

He stiffles a sigh, and grumbles. "I have all As and one B."

"Wow. That's amazing, Harley! Man, I have two smart kids!" The man in front of them exclaims proudly, and Harley grimances, fuming under his skin as he glares harshly at the garbage on his tray. *What happened to not knowing me, huh? Now I'm your kid? Also, my smarts are no thanks to you. You don't get to feel proud.*

And yet, he hears his sister giggle, and sees the bright smile on her face, and he knows he can't say anything against the man, can't ruin her happiness. So he just stays quiet as the conversation continues on for a while, until-

"So, how's Stark treating you?"

Harley tenses, then forces himself to relax. *Its just a question, Harley. Just a question.*

"Good! He's amazing to us, he's always there for supper whenever he isn't away, and tries to spend as much time with us as possible." Abbie chirps, and a small smile grows on his face at her words.

It was true. Tony did have to leave often for business, to talk to partners and other higher ups in other big businesses,  but before he left, he always, always made time for them. Time to help them with their homework if they needed it, time to sit on the couch and watch Netflix with Abbie for hours on end, time in the lab to work on a project together with Harley. And he always made sure to be there for dinner if he was in town. It was a big rule in their family, you had to be at the table within ten minutes of supper being done, phones off and put away, ready to enjoy some family time. It was always Harley's favorite time of the day, when all of them, him, Abbie, Tony and even Pepper or Rhodey occasionally, come together and talk about their days, share stories, experiences.

Before Tony, they never really got that. Mom was always working at the diner, just trying to make ends meet, and their father had been MIA. But now, now they get the chance to have real family time. To have another family entirely.

And, as Harley stares at the man in front of him, he thinks there's one piece to this puzzle that doesn't quite fit. "Yeah, he's great. Treats us right." He makes sure to add a little bitterness in his tone, locking eyes with the man as he says it, hoping he gets the not so subtle message. *He's like my dad. You aren't.*

"That's good, I'm glad." He levels Harley's stare, looking genuine enough that Harley grits his teeth again and looks back down at his tray.

There's a pause in conversation as Abbie and the man eat, Harley gaze wandering back to the boy again even as his brain continues to scream at him that its wrong, that he shouldnt be looking, shouldn't be feeling like this-

"He is pretty cute, isn't he?" Harley jumps ten feet into the air, whipping his head around to his sister, seeing her leaning in really close, a big knowing smirk on her face.

"W-what?" He says breathlessly, his face burning, eyes wide, a spike of fear shooting through him. Does she know? She can't know, nobody can know.

"He's cute." She shrugs, pointing to the boy he had been looking at, her eyes softening slightly, her smirk falling to a smile.

"I- I don't- he's not-" He looks over to where their father was, seeing he was gone and furrowing his eyesbrows. "Where'd he go?" He nods to the space, hoping to change the subject *immediately, as soon as possible, lets never talk about this again-*

She shrugs again. "To the washroom, I think."

Harley nods shakily, and there's a moment of silence where Harley had hear his heartbeat, sounding like the wheels of a train in his ears, loud and fast, his face and ears probably a bright red and his mind racing, racing, feeling so on edge. He got caught, she knows, she knows, he has to make sure she doesn't think- doesn't make assumptions-

"Im not gay!" He blurts out, dropping his head in shame and pure embarrassment, cursing at himself internally because *god why would you say that you're so stupid-*

"I know?" His sister sound extremely confused, and he curses himself even more, *of course she didn't know you dumbass-*, "I never said you were?"

"Yeah I-I know." He stutters lamely, hating every damn inch of his body, of himself in this moment.

Theres another pause, one thats much much more awkward and uncomfortable, and Harley feels more and more like crying every second that passes. Luckily, his sister speaks up soon enough.

"Harls..." She sounds sad, really sad, and Harleys eyes shoot up to meet hers, seeing the same pain in her eyes and feeling guilt flow over him, *What did I do?*. "You know... It's okay if you are, right?"

Harley's mind comes to a screeching halt. "...what?" He barely whispers.

She smiles sadly, almost knowingly. "It's okay if you are gay. You know that, right?"

His jaw is slack, almost dropped as he stares at her, flicking from one eye to the other, his mind blank, empty. *...okay? It's- okay? What?*

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but before he can force some words out, their father returns, settling back into his seat with a "I'm back! What did I miss?"

"Nothing!" Harley blurts out again, tilting his head to look as far away from his sister as possible, a pained expression on her face. "Nothing," He repeats, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

"Okaaay?" The man elegonates, seeming confused, and Harley's irritation returns just by being in the same area as their father. "So, where were we? Talking about Stark right?"

"...yeah." His sister sounds upset, and Harley kicks himself harder.

They keep talking while Harley yells at himself in his head, talking about inheritance or something, when he heard their father ask "You guys are rich now, huh?"

Red flags flare up immediately in his head and he makes sure to keep his face impartial, but starts to tune into their conversation, keeping his ears open.

"Yeah, I guess so. He gave us these cards and told us to go wild." Abbie chuckles, seeming unfazed by his question, which unnerved Harley even more.

"Cards huh?"

"Yeah. Credit cards. Though I dont use them often, don't like to, dont need to. It's weird going from nothing to this." She waves at herself, sounding completely at ease, telling him all of this like its nothing.

"I'd say." His voice sounds quiet, contemplative, as if he's thinking, and Harley is immediately on edge again, protective big brother mode kicking in.

"Hey Abbs, I think it's getting kinda late, don't you think?" He turns to her, trying to seem normal, trying to look tired to get the point across.

It seems to work as she sighs, a frown on her face. "Yeah, I guess it is. We should get going."

Abbie and their father hug, and Harley shakes his hand, narrowing his eyes at him slightly before they say their goodbyes and leave, Abbie calling Happy to come pick them up.

Harley looks over his shoulder behind him, seeing the man walking the other way down the street, and glares at his back, uneasy. He is going to do something, Harley knows. Has a gut feeling about it. It's just a matter of what, and when.

--
Back then, I didn't have anything you needed so I was worthless.
--

They continue to meet up with their father, Abbie getting closer and closer to him and Harley getting more and more suspicious, more and more nervous. It feels like the calm before the storm, like one day, somethings going to happen, one small thing was going to snap and the whole thing will collapse onto itself, dragging Abbie and Harley down with it.

He partically hopes his gut is wrong. That their father has changed, and just wants the best for them, for Abbie, for him.

He should have known better.

They had gotten back from one of their meet ups a few hours ago, Abbie happy-go-lucky and Harley feeling queasy, nauseous, his gut screaming at him that somethings off, something is wrong, but his mind ignores it, hoping for the best, hoping for- for-

Harley doesn't even know. Maybe he had also gained a small hope that his father would be apart of his life. Maybe he had always had that small little hope, even after being told he was nothing to him. Maybe he had always wanted a father, someone to look up to, to hang out with, to have father son moments with. And sure, he had Tony, but Tony... Wasn't his dad. Wasn't his birth father, wasn't his blood. It was different, somehow. At least it was in his head.

So maybe he let his feelings, and the obvious red flags that kept raising up, go to keep his small piece of longing alive. His small piece of hope shining in the dark, telling him that maybe things would be alright after all. Thats all he has ever wanted. For him, yeah, but also for his sister. Mostly for her, really. It was what she deserved.

Tony strolls into the living room while him and Abbie were watching Kitchen Nightmares, head down into his tablet with a furrowed brow, confusion written all over his face. "Abbie?"

Harley's heart begins to pick up, dread filling his chest, making his stomach churn strongly. He pushes it away. *Im sure It's nothing. He calls out to her all the time. Why would this be any different?*

"Yeah?" She calls back, not taking her eyes off of the tv, Gordan Ramsey yelling loudly at the chefs in the background.

"Why did you spend over ten thousand dollars this month?"

Harley feels his stomach churn again, knowing Abbie would never spend that much, she didn't like spending Tony's money as it was.

"What??" She turns to look at Tony, the TV stopping automatically when she does, making Harley sigh and turn to look too, full of dread. "I didn't spend that much."

Tony looks unconvinced, his coffee brown eyes narrowed slightly. "That's what it says here. Ten thousand, seven hundred and fifty five dollars spend in March, spent... Today actually."

Abbies eyes are wide, shocked. "I didn't spend that! I swear I didnt!"

Harley grits his teeth, his gut screaming at him again, and he grunts out loud without realizing, only noticing when two pairs of eyes lock on to him.

"What?" Tony deadpans, knowing Harley long enough to know theres something wrong, something on his mind, their connection showing.

He sighs, playing with the leather couch cushion, guilt eating at his insides as he says what's on his mind, a theory he had created as soon as the first words had come out of Tony's mouth. "Do you have your credit card on you, Abbie?"

She looks to him, her eyes full of confusion. "Of course I do, I always have it on me."

"Can you check?" Her eyes harden and she opens her mouth to complain but he shuts her up with a "Please, Abbie? For me?"

She grumbles, but gets up anyways and grabs her purse, opening it and checking her wallet. His stomach drops as her face pales, his theory almost confirmed. "I-it's not here." She digs into her purse, clearly getting more and more anxious. "I-I swore it was in here just yesterday."

Aaand that confirms it. Harley sighs again, pain searing through his heart, dropping his head on to the couch, stomping on that little piece of hope and crushing it into millions of tiny iddy biddy shards, hurt and regret burning in his chest.

"Harls? What're you thinking?" He feels Tony's hand go in his hair, rough and callused but gentle as it plays with his hair, a action to try and soothe him.

He lifts his head back up, staring straight at Abbies freaked out expression, speaking monotone. "Who have we hung out with since yesterday, Abbs?"

There's a pause as she thinks long and hard, and Harley can almost see the gears shift once she understands, pain, hurt and sorrow filling her gaze. "No," she whispers. "He wouldn't, he-"

"That bastard." Apparently Tony has clued in, too, his hand gripping Harley's hair tighter for a second.

"He wouldn't!" Abbie get defensive, glaring, face scrunched up in pain. "He wouldn't do that!"

Harley can almost see the knife stabbed into her back, the blood dripping down and pooling around her feet, just like the glass of water his mom had dropped the night he broke her heart too. He shakes his head, eyes burning as he murmurs, "Im so sorry, Abbie. It's the only thing that makes sense."

She shakes her head, tears pouring down her face as she snatches up her phone, tapping on it quickly before placing it back on the table, ringing out loud, clearly on speaker.

Harley stands then, his heart heavy, blinking back his own tears. "Abbie, this isn't a good idea-"

His thought breaks off as a "Hey, kiddo!" rings out in the room with a "miss me already?" tagged on right after.

Abbie completely ignores Harley's warning and growls out "How could you?!" Her voice is strained, shaky, and it tears a hole in Harley's already aching heart.

"What?" He sounds genuinely confused, but Harley had hear the slight higher pitch of guilt in his voice, and knows they caught the culprit, no matter how much it hurts.

Abbie can hear it too. "You know what you did!! How could you?!? I trusted you!"

"I-I don't know what-"

"Cut the bullshit!" Harley pitches in finally, going to stand next to his sister, holding her close to his chest as she sobs, her anger rapidly fading to grief, to pain, to heartbreak. It's a sight Harley is sadly way too familiar with. "We know you stole her credit card. We know you used her money. We know what you did. So cut the bullshit, Tim." He sneers. There's silence on the phone. He doesn't even deny it, causing Abbie to cry harder. Harley grits his teeth. He has to be strong. Has to. "Why? Why did you do this?!?"

There's a dark chuckle through the phone. "Come on, Harley, you're a smart boy. You put it together."

"I'm not smart in assholery, sorry." He snarks back, his voice breaking accidentally, a hard hand pressing to his back soon after. *Tony*

The other man has been silent this whole time, letting Harley and Abbie fight their own battle, knowing it'll probably be better for them in the long run that way but he's still ready to step in if need be.

Another chuckle. "Abigail and Harley Keener-Stark. I knew you two were my kids the minute the press conference announced you two, and now you were two of the richest kids in the world by default. Everyone wants a piece of you, want a piece of the riches, so why did you assume I wouldn't want a piece too?"

"I thought you were different!" Abbie yells out through her tears, sniffling and coughing.

"Ah, Abbie. My little girl." He sighs, and Harley wants to punch his stupid face in. *His stupid face that looks exactly like yours.* "So innocent and naive. I never wanted to use you, but it was the only way. Harley was too hard of a cookie to crack."

"With good reason, apparently." He holds his sister tighter. "I knew there's was something off, knew something was too good to be true."

"And yet, you did nothing. Why's that? Didn't want to break your baby sister heart? Didn't want to be the bad guy in your sisters eye? Or was it more personal?" The man is mocking now. "Or, maybe you still wanted your daddy back, just like you did all those years ago when I turned you down? Is that it?"

Something in Harley snaps at those words. *Maybe you still wanted your daddy back*. Harsh. Mocking. Indifferent. Something Harley has been subconsciously wanting and longing for ever since he was 6, ever since his father had told him to take care of his sister and mom and never came back,  thrown back into his face like it was nothing. Like his abandonment was nothing to him. Like Harley was nothing to him, everything coming full circle. 

He cant believe he had still had hope. Had still hoped his dad would come home some day and apologize, had hoped that he would actually want to be apart of his life like he had said he did when they first met up. Can't believe that even after all these years, he was still that stupid little boy who just wanted his daddy to come home. How stupid was he?

Harley gasps, his tears finally falling, cascading down his face as he tenses up, a fire burning and roaring inside of him. He snarls out, so bitter and frustrated and angry and broken, why, why, why- "How- How dare you-"

The hand on his back grabs on to his shoulder firmly, as if to hold him back, and Tony finally speaks up, his voice steely. "That's enough out of you. Never, and I mean never go near my kids again, or else you're going to have to deal with me and my lawyers on your ass, and I don't think you want to deal with that, asshole." He hangs up the call immediately after the words are out of his mouth and the room fills with an eerie silence where the phones hum used to be.

His sister is bawling, crying her heart out, while Harley just stands still, tears flooding his face like a river as his mind empties, his emotions swirling and raging inside of him, clawing, scratching, ripping, trying to force its way out of his body. He starts to shake, starts to feel himself fall apart at the seams as his mind starts back up again, *wanted your daddy wanted your daddy wanted your daddy-* and he pushes Abbie into Tony's arms, knowing he'll take care of her as he breaks into a run, trying to outrun his pain, his grief, his loss, god always loss, always losing someone, always losing, hearing Tony call out to him from behind him but not caring as he slams the door to his room behind him, collapsing onto the ground in a fit of gasps and heaves, his entire body betraying him as everything he's ever pent up runs wild, raging inside of him, breaking free of the cage that held it back for so long.

All of the abandonment, the questions that had haunted, plagued his mind all through his childhood, wondering why his dad had left, why his family, why him, wondering if he was his fault that he left, that he wasn't good enough of a son because the rest of his family was perfect so it had to be him right? All of the guilt that ate him alive when he heard his mom crying after coming home really late from work, stressed out and wondering how to pay the bills, not knowing how he could ever help, the guilt of never telling her how much she meant to him before she died, the guilt of not being able to take of Abbie well enough, of not being good enough, never enough, its never enough, he wasn't mom, never would be mom. All of the loss, losing his dad, losing his mom, the loss of his innocent as he had to grow up way too fast, having to take care of his baby sister while his mom worked and having to get a part time job as soon as legally possible, not having the time or energy to spare on hanging out with friends or on being a kid. All of the pain, of losing someone close to him, of missing his mom every damn day of his life, of feeling unworthy of their new life, of the stresses that come with their new life, of pretending to like girls and forcing hinself to stop looking at guys, of knowing how unbelievable wrong he truly was, of not being able to protect Abbie from their father, from the harsh realities of life, of seeing his baby sisters face crumbling and breaking again and again, again and again.

Everything is racing to the forefront, and Harley's head is spinning, his stomach is in knots, his body shaking like an earthquake and he can't- he can't breathe, he can't move, he can't handle it, he's still heaving, his body trying to get rid of his lunch as everything lurches and he can't do this he can't he can't he can't-

Arms wrap around him, and he struggles weakly, gasping desperately for air that won't fill his lungs as he gets pulled into someone's lap, his body heaving again, causing him to cough harshly afterwards. Someone shushes him, holds him tight but desperate. "Harley, you need to breathe for me, okay?"

He gasps again, hands reaching desperately for a hold and grabbing tightly on to the persons shirt, a shutter running through him. *I can't I can't I can't I-*

"Harley, you're going to pass out if you don't breathe for me, so," the person grabs his hand and places it over their neck. Harley feels a strong pulse against his fingers, a hearty, steady rhythm. "Breathe. Do you feel that?"

Harley nods once, wheezing, the room still spinning, his vision completely blurry, full of tears and black spots. "Focus on that, okay? Focus on me."

Harley tries. He tries to focus on the steady ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum under his hand, tries to focus on the deep breathes that they're taking, moving Harley's entire body up and down along with them.

"Okay, now try to copy it." The voice soothes, soft and steady, one he now recognizes as Tony's, *who else's would it be?* and nods again, feeling his body settling slightly as he tries to take a deep breath, coming out as a strangled gasp, but still better than the small wheezes from before. He continues, slowly but surely taking breath after breath until he's just sobbing in his arms, his breathing and heart steadier.

Now that he doesn't feel like he's dying, or that he's going to puke, embarassment and shame start inching its way back in and he croaks out "I-I-I'm s-sorry-"

"Don't." Tony cuts him off sharply, seeming more concerned and tired than agitated. "Don't apologize, kid."

"I didn't- I-I didn't mean to-"

"I know," He murmurs, starting to rub Harley's back soothingly as he sobs into his chest. "But honestly, I'm glad you did. It seems like you really needed it." There's a pause, before Tony sighs again. "Kid, you gotta let things out before they get this bad. I mean, what happened today sucks, don't get me wrong, but I know it wouldn't have caused... That, on it's own."

Harley shakes his head, only sniffling now, calming down even more, now exhausted, mumbling "Gotta be strong."

"For who?" Tony pries. "For Abbie? She can take care of herself, Harley."

He shakes his head again, harder, determined. "Mom told me to protect her. I have to."

He feels Tony's chin on the top of his head. "Oh kid," He mumbles under his breath, but just as he's about to continue, another body presses against his back, another set of arms wrapping around his waist.

"Oh Harls, you don't have to protect me, or be strong for me." Abbies soft voice reassures, her head right next to his ear, leaning on his shoulder. "You're allowed to be upset, to cry and hurt like I do. You don't have to act all tough for me." He shakes his head again, squeezing his eyes shut, opening his mouth, but Abbie cuts him off before he can speak. "Mom knows you're taking care of me, Harley. She knows. You dont have to hold everything in to do that, jeez, you do it everyday!"

He lets out another sob, a small smile on his face as he takes in her words. He then lets go of Tony and tackles his sister into a hug, hearing her laugh wetly in his ear before hugging him back tightly, both of them crying, but smiling, on to each others shoulders.

"Shes so proud of you, Harley. Of both of you." Tony chips in, wrapping his arms around both of them for a group hug, kissing both of their heads. "She's so, so proud."

They stay like this to a while, just holding on to each other on the floor of Harley's room, giving each other comfort without saying a word. Their fathers words still sting, and probably will for a long time, but in this moment, with his sister and Tony, his new family surrounding him with all of their warmth and love, he thinks that maybe with time, it'll be okay again. He'll be okay again.

--
But piece by piece, he collected me up off the ground where you abandoned things. Piece by piece, he filled the holes that you burned in me at 6 years old.
--

"Happy birthday, kid!" He feels hands grasp his shoulders as soon as he walks out of his room, shaking him in their excitement.

"Tony," Harley groans, rubbing at his eyes. "its too early for this!" His body is still heavy from sleep and his eyes are half open, not fully awake yet as Tony steers him towards the kitchen.

"You're so dramatic, Harls." His sister teases from her spot, seated next to the island, already dressed and made up for school, a bowl of cereal in front of her, almost empty. She hops off, dragging Harley into a quick hug. "Happy birthday, big bro!"

"Thanks, Abbs." He murmurs softly, hugging her back for a second before letting go, smiling wide, feeling warm and fuzzy.

"Oh, so she gets a thank you but I get a complaint? I see how it is." Tony huffs, the grin on his face betraying his faux annoyance.

Harley grins back, chuckling. "Yeah, cause she doesn't wake me up at a god awful hour on my day off."

"The day off that i gave you, thank you very much." He grabs the plastic spatula he was using to flip some pancakes he was making, Harley's favorite breakfast food, smacking him upside the head with it.

"Ow! Hey!" Harley whines, rubbing the back of his head, laughing harder at his antics. Tony stares at him, expectant, his face neutral aside from his twitching lips that show his amusement and a raised eyebrow. He sighs loudly, dramatically. "Thank you, Tony."

"You're welcome." Tonys grin returns and he turns back to the pancakes as his sister finishes her bowl of cereal, putting the bowl in the dishwasher. She then races over to grab her backpack off of the ground, hugging Harley once more and rushing towards the elevator. "Enjoy your day, Harls! Love you!"

"I will! Love you too! Bye!" He calls back to her, feeling giddy and kind of nervous for whatever the day may bring. A few pancakes plop on to the plate placed in front of him, and he gives Tomy another thank you before digging in, drowning the pancakes in syrup and taking a big bite. True Canadian Maple Syrup, mixed with fresh blueberry pancakes. What a great way to start the day.

Tony sits down beside him at the island, where his sister sat before, with his own pancakes, starting to eat as well.

They eat in silence for a while, before Harley finishes his second one and decides to finally speak up. "So, can I know what we're doing yet?"

He has been asking the older man for the past three days, and he always got the same answer, but he figured he'd give it another shot.

"Nope." Tony responds way too cheerily. "You'll find out soon enough."

Harley groans again. "You know I don't like surprises, Tony."

Tony smirks at him, cheeky. "Exactly." He finishes the last of his pancakes and stands, putting his plate in the dishwasher. "Now finish up, and get ready. Dress causal, we aren't going anywhere businessy today."

*Good.* Harley doesn't mind business things, not usually, but he really doesn't want to deal with it on his birthday.

Harley does as told and dresses casual, a simple black v-neck tee, dark blue skinny jeans and a light, brown moto jacket, his hair combed up and out of his face. He meets Tony down in the garage, the man looking like a kid in a candy store, almost vibrating with excitement. "Okay," he claps his hands together before spreading his arms wide, "take your pick, what're we driving today?"

Harley blinks, looking at the row apon row of cars laid out in front of him. "I get to choose?"

"Yeeup! Part one of your gift."

"Part one?? It has parts?!?" Harley's jaw drops, blown out of the water. He doesn't need a big fancy gift, he would be fine with a new book or something, but of course Tony would go the extra mile and be over the top with it. Not that Harley was complaining.

Tony rolls his eyes, chuckling. "You're my kid, Harley. And, it's your sweet sixteen! Of course your gift has parts. Now, I'm waiting for you to choose part one, so chop chop!"

*You're my Kid.* Harley's smile widens at that, and he picks out a bright orange convertable, knowing that it was sunny and warm so they could probably lower the top down on their ride to where ever they were going.

They get in, and Tony starts the car before speaking. "You've been studying for your permit test, right?"

"Yeah? What about- Wait" He turns to Tony, eyes wide. "Are we going now?!"

"Yeeup, part two." Tony holds out two fingers at that and chuckles as Harley lights up, his face already hurting from smiling so much.

"Oh my God, thank you! Ah- do you think I'll get it? Do you think I'll pass? Oh god, I hope I pass." Harley rambles as they drive out of the garage, full of energy.

Tony mumbles something under his breath, something about rambling and a 'Peter' but then his gaze flicks to Harley with a small but genuine smile. "Of course you'll pass, kid. You got this in the bag."

And he did. He took the test, passed with flying colors and left the building with a new card in his wallet, a new piece of ID. His permit. A temporary one anyways, his real one will come in the mail in a few weeks. But it's still there, he still got it, he still passed.

Tony wraps an arm over his shoulders, pulling him into his chest as soon as he gets into the car. "See? I knew you had it, kid!"

Harley just smiles up at Tony widely, his cheeks hurting from it. "Thanks Tony." He murmurs softly, before speaking up with a smirk growing in place of his smile. "So, what's next??"

Tony grins cheekily at him again. "You'll see." He starts the car again, and the roar of the engine covers up Harley's dramatic moaning and groaning.

They drive for a little while, ACDC blaring through the speaker as the wind whips through the car and over their bodys. Harley shuts his eyes and breaths in the fresh air deeply, the wind making Harley's hair a mess. Not like he really cares about that. They're driving through the city in a bright ass orange convertable, blaring music and jamming out together, the last thing that Harley cares about right now is his hair.

Harley reopens his eyes when the car slows, pulling into an empty parking lot that Harley has no idea how Tony found in New York. Tony shuts off the car, turning to Harley expressionless and expectant. Harley just blinks at him, confused, tilting his head. "Uh, it's an empty parking lot?" He tries to guess, shrugging, feeling kinda sheepish at his lack of understanding.

Tony rolls his eyes, shakes his head in exasperation and gets out of the car, telling Harley to do the same. He does, shutting the door behind him, still super confused, until Tony gestures for him to get into the drivers seat, and it all clicks at once.

"Tony, I-I can't drive this thing, I-" he sputters incredulously, and Tony rolls his eyes again with a huff.

"Yes, you can. You gotta learn somehow, put that new permit to use, hey?" He waves to the door again, with a little more force, telling Harley to get the fuck in the car or else.

So Harley does, still extremely unsure about this. "I can't- Tony, this car costs more than me-"

"Nothing costs more than you." Tony cuts him off abruptly, but gently. "Its just a car, Harley. I have many more."

"What if I break it? Or crash it?"

"You won't." He states firmly, like its a fact as he gets in the passenger side, shutting his door behind him and turning towards Harley. "Okay. What's the first thing you do when you get into a car?"

"...turn it on?" Harley guesses, looking into Tony's eyes, swirling with excitement, ease, and something else Harley can't name.

"Nope, before that."

"Uhhhm," Harley hums, thinking. "Oh, seatbelt!" He reaches for the said seatbelt, putting over him and buckling in.

"Bingo! See, already a natural." Tony does the same as Harley rolls his eyes, shaking his head in amusement.

"We haven't even started the car yet."

"Still, you got this, I know you do."

They start slow, very slow, with Harley figuring out which petal was which, gas and brake, figuring out how to turn on the headlights, the high beams, the wipers, how to use the windshield wash, simple stuff.

Then they actually put it into drive, and things got a little more complicated. Harley continuously pumped the gas and break for a while, causing the car to jerk repeatedly and Harley's nerves to heighten, terrified to mess it all up. But Tony continues to be reassuring and gives him tips until he was slowly, steadily driving circles around the empty lot.

"You're doing great, Harley. It isnt so hard, is it?"

Harley refuses to look over at him, keeping his gaze locked into the road, on turning gently, carefully, nowhere near the concrete curbs, just in case. "Yeah, I-I guess not."

"Can you speed up a little?" Tony presses him gently, getting him out of his comfort zone, he knows. Harley gulps, his hands shaking slightly, but doing as told, pressing the gas petal down a little bit harder. The car shifts forward, that little press doing wonders, making the car move much faster, faster than Harley expected and he freaks out a bit, slamming on the brake and causing the car to screech to a halt. Harley flinches back like the steering wheel bit him, stuttering out "I-I'm sorry, I-I don't-"

"Its okay." Tony places a hand on his shoulder, steady, calming. "You're alright. Take a minute, then we'll try again, okay?"

"I don't-" he swallows, embarassment burning at his cheeks as he whispers, "I don't think I can."

"Okay, that's fine too." Tony pats his shoulder. "We're taking this at your pace, 'kay bud? No rush, no pressure."

Harley nods, taking a second to truly look at Tony, truly look at their situation. They were in a car, in an empty parking lot and Tony was teaching him how to drive, hand on his shoulder, being calm and reassuring the entire time. And as he connects their eyes, Harley can finally tell what the other emotion in the man's eyes is. Pride. He is proud of Harley, so overwhelmingly proud of him, and it almost sucker punches Harley in the gut when he realizes how much of a dad Tony is being right now. How much of a dad Tony has always been to Harley, even when his blood father was in the picture. He was always there for Harley, for Abbie, always helping them, supporting them, there for them no matter what. Hell, he was teaching him how to drive, how much of a father son thing to do was that!

The thought overwhelms Harley. He always thought that he would never have a dad, that when his father left, any chance of this was gone, any chance at a father son moment vanished right alongside him.

And yet, here he was, in an empty, abandoned parking lot in the middle of New York, driving a bright orange convertable on his sixteenth birthday as part of a big ass birthday gift with his real dad, his true dad, sitting right in front of him.

He feels tears well up in his eyes, and barely hears Tony's concerned "Harley?" before he's diving over the middle console and hugging the older man tightly, burying his face into the crook of his neck. "Thank you," he chokes out, his face wet as happy tears slip out, dripping on to Tony's expensive suit. "Thank you. For everything."

Tony lets out a laugh, but it's airy, breathless, wrapping his arms around the boy. "We aren't even done with the gift yet!"

Harley shakes his head, leaning back slightly so Tony can hear him clealy, but still leaning his forehead against his shoulder. "That's not what I meant."

A pause, before a kiss is pressed on to the top of his head gently. "I know," he murmurs, soft, caring, full of love. "Its nothing, kid. Really."

Harley can read between the lines enough to know what Tony is truly saying with those simple words. *Its nothing to take care of you. I want to do it. I always have. I always will. I love you.*

Harley leans back, looking Tony straight in the eye, his vision still slightly blurry, hoping it potrays everything he still can't seem to say. *Its not nothing. It's everything. You're like a dad to me. That means the world to me. I love you too.*

After a bit more driving around on Harley's part, at his own speed, Tony finally gets back into the drivers seat, and drives them both back home, Harley feeling lighter, giddier, happier than he has in a long, long, long ass time.

As it turns out, Tony meant it when he said the gift wasn't done. Apparently, the grand finale was Harley choosing out his own car from Tony's wide assortment, so he can "have something to practice with, whenever he wanted to.", and something to drive once he got his full licence.

Harley had been over the moon, obviously, and, if he had accidentally called Tony dad during his hugging and jumping and borderline yelling, filled to the brim with happiness and excitement, well. That was something Tony was going to keep to himself.

--
He never walks away, he never asks for money. He takes care of me, cause he loves me. Piece by piece, he restored my faith, that a man can be kind, and a father could stay.
--

Harley is staring into a mirror, locking eyes with himself, as weird as that sounds. Sapphires clashing against sapphires. He can almost see his own anxiousness, his own internal battle brewing behind his eyes.

He knows what he's stood up here for. He knows what he wants to do, what he told himself he has to do, the words on the tip of his tongue, but also simultaneously stuck at the back of his throat, almost choking him with their intensity, their secrecy, their almost foreboding nature, their promise of a big change in the future.

A big chance he isn't sure he wants. But a change he knows he doesn't have a choice about.

He knows this is something you can't change. Something you're born with, something in your nature. Something many, many people online, and in their real lives, are very proud of, and flaunt, saying it makes them unique, special, perfect. Perfect the way they are.

If they can be out, loud and proud, then... So could Harley, surely? Right?

He growls under his breath in frustration. Sure, he can help out Iron Man, become Tony Starks kid, and deal with threats of kidnapping and chances at his life every other week, but he can't say three simple words? He cant look himself in the mirror and see who he really is?

He can't be true to himself?

Harley grits his teeth, determination and courage overruling his overwhelming anxiety as he locks eyes with his reflection again, opens his mouth and finally, finally says it, admits the deepest secret he's held to his chest for the longest time,

"I am gay."

Harley waits for a second, to see if the pin will drop, to see if second shoe will fall, to see if things will come crashing down and burning.

But nothing happens. Of course it doesn't. He is standing in his room, by himself, admitting this to himself.

Admitting something he's already known deep in his soul for as long as he can remember. Something he only figure out consciously a while ago. Something he tried to get rid of for the longest time, before realizing that he can't.

You can't really stop being gay, no matter what people tell you. No matter how much Harley wished it to be so.

I mean, who wants to be different right? Who wants to realize that those awful names your bully teased you with your entire childhood were right? Who would want to realize that you're going to get treated differently by people, because of something you can't control? Who wants that?

But Harley was tired of lying and pretending and faking his attraction at school. In general. Of telling his friends that he had crushes on people he wouldn't think twice about, just to sate their curiosity and get them off his back. Of forcing himself to look away when he catches himself staring at a boy during gym class, yelling at himself internally when his shorts get a little too tight for comfort afterwards. Of listening to his sister gush over hot boys at the mall or in the streets, and pretending not to agree. He's just tired of being someone he's not, honestly.

Especially around his family. Around his sister, who's words that one night at McDonald's rang in his head over and over for nights on end afterwards. Who told him that it was okay to be himself, before he had even know what he was. Who he knew would accept him wholeheartedly, once he finally got the guts to admit it to anyone other than himself. Who deserved more than anyone else to know the true Harley Keener. Romantic attraction and all.

And, around Tony. Tony, who, since his birthday, had become even more of a father figure to Harley. Listening to him when he ranted about his friend group being stupid and dramatic. Teaching him how to dismantle and put back together a car engine when Harley had asked him about it one day in the lab. Giving him more and more hugs and forehead kisses, ruffling his hair when proud, saying goodnight to him every night, even calling to do it when he's away for work.

Tony, who Harley has starting to call 'dad' in his head, something he's never gotten the chance to do before.

Tony, who has always been there for him, no matter what.

Tony, who he really fucking hopes will accept him.

Tony, who he really, honest to god really wants to tell.

He's had this urge to tell Tony ever since he really admitted and accepted himself. Sure he may had just admitted it to himself out loud for the first time just then, but he really accepted it a day or two ago, when he read up on gay people and realized that this was who he was, and that he wasnt going to change. He wants to be honest and genuine with Tony. He want Tony to know everything about him, and honestly? He wants his approval, his acceptance, more than anything in the world.

But the fear of rejection, the fear of Tony hating him and of being abandonned again after everything they've gone through sticks in his mind like glue, and won't let go, no matter how hard he tries. No matter how much he tells himself *come on, he wouldn't do that to you, you know he wouldn't.*, the nagging doubt always retorts back with *Are you sure? What if he's homophobic?  Then what?*

And that was just it. The 'what ifs'. What if Tony didn't like gay people? What if Tony was homophobic? What if he hated Harley's guts, and kicked him out, never wanting to see him again? What if he never got to see Abbie again, just because of his sexuality? Just because he had told him?

Harley just shakes his head and glares at his reflection, at the mocking image that stares back, and flops down into his bed, staring up at the ceiling. *He wouldn't. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't. After all, when has Tony ever done anything to hurt you? To hurt Abbie?*

Never. He's never hurt Harley. Never laid a hand on him, never yelled at him, never told him he was nothing, which was always a step up from his birth father. Hell, Tony never even pressured him. He didnt force them to change their names right away, didn't force him to call him his dad, or to change their relationship at all until he was ready to. Even in the car, when Harley couldn't speed up, Tony had reassured him, telling him it was okay. It was all at Harleys pace, never pressured, never forced.

And Harley wanted to tell him, that was the main thing. He wanted to take the next step, wanted to call Tony his dad, wanted to tell him he was gay. He wants his dad to know.

Mind made up, Harley calls out to FRIDAY, his voice echoing in his big, quiet room. "Fri, where is Tony right now? In the lab?" His voice shakes slightly but he ignores it.

"Boss does appear to be in the lab, Mini Boss."

He chuckles at the nickname. He had changed it a while ago, and he was still waiting for his dad to notice. He tilts his head slightly. "Is he busy?"

"No more than usual, Mini Boss. Do you want me to tell him you asked?"

"Nah," he lets out a small yawn, sitting up on his bed. "I'll go down there now, thanks."

He starts his walk to the the elevator, his nerves starting to creep their way back in as he does. He shoves it back down as he presses the number for the lab, and the elevator starts to move.

He starts to tap his foot, picking at his nails, feeling his anxiousness starting to bubble in his chest. *Oh god, am I really gonna do this? Am I really going to tell him?*

*Yeah, isn't that the point of all of this? To tell him?*

*But what if he-*

Nope. He focuses on the faint lines on his nails, on the vibrations going through his leg at each tap. He isn't going to second guess this. He isn't going to sike himself out of this. He's just going to go in there and do it. Rip off the bandaid. He wants to do this. He wants to. *Doesn't make it any less difficult.*

The elevator doors open, and he shuffles in to the lab, seeing his dads hunched over figure through the frosted glass. He puts his code into the door, hearing it hiss as it opens, and he steps inside, his heart starting to beat out of his chest and his hands getting clammy. Its now or never. Harley wasnt sure he'd get the guts to do this again.

Tony lifts his head up, his eyes softening like they always do when he sees Harley, a smile on his face as he turns back to his work, the arm of one of the suits opened up, it's inner mechanics exposed. "Hey, kid. Want to help out?"

"Can we talk?" Harley blurts out randomly, before starting to shift, feeling like he has to move, his nerves making him jittery, his eyes locking into the concrete floor.

Tony stops again, there's a moment, Harley can feel Tony gaze on him, burning into his skin before he straightens up with a groan and turns to face Harley completely. "Yeah, of course. What's up, squirt?"

*Rip off the bandaid.* "I-I'm-" The words get lodged in his throat as his eyes flick up to Tony, seeing his dark brown eyes swirling with emotion, with concern, care, worry, his lips tilted in a small frown before Harley looks away again. He coughs once to try and clear his throat, before trying again. "I'm- I-I'm-"

Nothing. *Goddamn it! Just say it!* He squeezes his eyes shut, wraps his arms around himself and, as he hears Tony take a breath, as if he was about to say something, to reassure him most likely, Harley forces the words out, making them come out louder than expected, almost a yell that echoes throughout the decently large room. "I'm gay!"

Silence. He swallows, squeezing his eyes tighter, feeling them start to burn. "I-... I'm gay." He repeats, voice much quieter, hushed, hoarse, feeling rising panic the longer Tony doesn't move, doesn't breathe, doesn't say anything *please just say something!* He hugs himself tighter, grinding his teeth as he feels his eyes full to the brim with tears, his heart beginning to ache, his body beginning to shake. *Oh god, he hates me. He hates me. He hates me!*

"I-I'll- I'll just-" He's about to spin around and dash back to the elevator, to run back to his room and just break down, already beating himself to a pulp and feeling lower than low because *god im so stupid he hates me im nothing im nothing im-* but just as he starts to turn, firm arms grab him and pull him in tight, close, pressing him into his chest.

"Its okay." The older man breathes, a hand reaching up into Harley's hair, stroking it gently, holding him in place. "It's okay."

Harley almost sobs in relief as he whispers out, still bracing himself for the worst even as a ray of hope shines in him, his heart jumping, "I-Its okay?"

The arms squeeze him tighter for a second, the man burying his face into Harley's hair. "Of course it is, Harls. Being gay doesn't change who you are, you're still my kid. This doesn't change that. Nothing will ever change that."

Only after he hears that does Harley let go and allow the tital wave of relief crash over him, submerging him in a blissful peace, comfort, and love that overtakes any concern or flick of doubt he had in his mind. Tony would never kick him out. Tony would never abandon him, or treat him like shit, or hate him. Tony would never leave him. *No matter what.*

He turns to face his dad completely, hugging him back and sobbing softly into his shoulder, a smile the size of the grand canyon on his wet face. He hurries his face into the man's shoulder, smelling the oil and grease and slight sweat off of his ratty shirt, and having it bring a overwhelming comfort, before speaking up again, the words coming from deep in his soul, true and honest and good, "Thank you... dad."

The man stiffened for a second, and Harley almost thought he fucked up again, that Tony didn't really want to be called that, but then the man held in even closer, closer than Harley thought possible, and presses a kiss to the top of his head, his voice shaky but so awed and happy as he responds with "Of course, always."

And, when he tells his baby sister his truth later on at supper time, his dad by his side the entire time while she squeezes him hardily and accepts him wholeheartedly with a teasing "I knew it!", well, that's just icing on the cake.

--
Piece by piece, I fell far from the tree. I will never leave [him] like you left me.
--

Harley hums and walks to the beat of his music, blaring into his ears as the elevator rises up, destination of the penthouse, of home. *Finally.*

Harley's had a long ass day. His classes were long and boring, his teachers were giving him shit for no reason (he forgot to do his homework one time and he automatically becomes a problem kid, like what the hell?) And for some reason, for some damn reason, his classmates were being extra bitchy today. They were bitchy and annoying normally, but today they were all just like mini individual nails scraping against a chalkboard, slowly but surely grating more and more on Harley's nerves as the day went on. If the bell hadn't rang when it did, Harley couldn't said for sure that he wouldve got out of that building without blood on his hands, figuratively and literally.

After coming out to his family, he had also come out to the school. Not literally, he had never really told anyone, but he didn't hide it anymore either. He stared at guys asses and muscles in gym class, he agreed with girls when they called certain guys hot, and he had even admitted to an entire class once that he had a major teacher crush on one of the substitutes at their school, Mr. Jones. Nobody had really cared, honestly, except a few people, loud minority, that liked to taunt and tease him sometimes. But Harley didn't care anymore, another thing that had come with coming out. He has stopped giving a fuck about what other people think about him, and their stupid ass opinions, and he had gained a boat loud of self confident in return. As such, the comments usually didnt effect him much.

But today, today they had gotten under his skin for some reason, and he could still hear the taunts looping in his head, even now.

Music always made it better, though. Whenever Harley listening to music, it was like the world melted away, his harsh thoughts shutting off as the pleasant tunes and melodies echoed in his mind. It took his mind off of things, let in relax for once, and helped him to tune out the world and it's continuous negativity.

It also made him extremely spacey and not spatially aware, due to the whole tuning out his surroundings thing.

Which is why when the elevator doors open, he didn't bother to look up as he stepped out at full speed, running straight into someone's chest and bowling them over.

Harley lurches forward due to the hard impact, but luckily regains his balance, his arms jutting out, staying upright. The other person, though, wasn't so lucky, crashing onto the floor harshly, right into their back, a loud smack! ringing through the air as they fall.

"Shit!" Harley's eyes widen and he rapidly crouches down next to the unidentifiable person, a loud groan escaping their lips. "Im so sorry, are you okay??"

Big, light brown eyes blink open and up at him, and god Harley's already a goner. Big doe eyes, cute button nose with freckles (oh lord, freckles, Harley's true weakness), soft looking, plump lips, chiseled jaw line- wait, why does he (*they* he corrects himself, *don't assume genders*), why do they look so familiar?

"Yeah, I'm okay." Their (*light, airy, like a summer breeze*) voice snaps him back into reality, and Harley has to shake his head slightly to get rid of his gay as hell thoughts because *Jesus, now is not the time.*

"You sure? I hit ya pretty hard." Harley didn't emphasise his slight southern accent, nah, totally didn't. Don't know what you're talking about.

A faint flush colors the person's cheeks, making them look even cuter goddamn it, and a shy smile lingers, pushing said mentioned cheeks up a little. "Yeah, I'm sure, t-thanks though."

Harley puts on a grin, a habit he had gained from his dad, and stood back up, holding out a hand to help them up. If it's trembling a little, showing his true nervousness and gay panic, well. He just hoped the person didn't notice. "The name's Harley."

The person seems to sputter at that, blinking rapidly, eyes widening. "You're Harley?!?"

Oh no, are they a fan? His heart drops a little at that thought, though it shouldn't surprise him. He is in Stark tower after all, of course he'd be recognized by people. *But did it have to be the cute person?* His mind pouts.

On the outside though, he holds up his grin, even if it wavers a little, and raises an eyebrow. "That's the name, don't wear it out, sugar." He shakes his hand, still extended to help the person up, and they seem to snap to their senses, grabbing it (*really strong grip woah, what kinda things he could do with- nope nope enough of that*) and pulling themselves up with Harley's help.

They run a hand through their hair, and give Harley another shy, almost sheepish? Smile. "I'm sorry, I just- Mr. Stark talks about you all the time, and he's always ranting about introducing us, and that we'd ruin his lab and be mad scientists together or whatever so I just didnt expect to meet you this way, not- not that its a bad way to meet someone just, you know, inconvenient, kind of-"

Harley's mind whirls, trying to keep up with the persons fraight train of a ramble, the words almost tumbling out of their mouth, like they say what they think automatically, no filter involved what's so ever. Or that their mouth moves faster than their thoughts. Harley wouldn't be surprised either way. "Woah woah," Harley laughs, surprising genuine, amused yet slightly nervous. "Relax, sweetpea, it's okay. You aren't in trouble."

"Right, yeah, of course, sorry." They stammer, their cheeks darkening and their gaze falling.

Their rambles finally click into his mind, more specifically the first part (*Mr. Stark talks about you-*) and Harleys eyebrows furrow. "Wait, you know dad?"

They tilt their head. It should be damn illegal for some stranger to be this cute, good lordy. "Mr. Stark?" Harley nods, but the person doesn't stop for his answer, as if they already know. "Yeah, I know him. I'm his personal assistant." Their chest puffs out slightly, like they're proud of themselves, and Harley has to hold in his laugh. God they're adorable. "Oh!" They jump slightly, and hold out a hand like Harley had done moments before. "I'm Peter, by the way. Parker. Peter Parker. Yeah."

Ah, the assistant. His dad had mentioned that a few times, that he had gotten an assistant to help him out with daily activities, get him coffee when need be, that stereotypical stuff, but mostly just to deal with the paper work he didn't want to have to deal with. He has also said that he was Harley's age, and that they would get along like a wildfire. He had forgotten to mention that the guy was *fucking hot as hell though, what the shit dad why did you keep this from me?!?* He was getting a mouthful later.

Now, though, he had a cute boy to impress. He chuckles lightly at the awkwardness radiating off of him, before placing his hand in the boys and shaking it once, firm and professional. "Ah, dad's mentioned an assistant. Nice to meet ya, Peter. Preferred pronouns?"

His dad had called his assistant a 'he' but Harley wanted to make sure anyways. Better to be safe than sorry. He was kind of hoping his dad was right though, so that maybe, just maybe he had a chance with the person.

Their eyes brighten at the comment. "He/him. Thanks for asking, it's awesome that you do. A lot of people don't."

Harley shrugged. "They should. Im really big into LGBT awareness amd acceptance, so I try to be as open as I can be." Obviously. He was apart of the community after all.

Their, his entire face lights up at that. "Me too! My friend is gender fluid, so I always try to spread awareness, help out where I can, ya know?"

Peter has this big, wide, toothy grin on his face, truly beaming, radiating in front of Harley. How could he say disagree with that, say no to that face? Not that he would either way, but still. "Yeah." He breathes out, *man he's so pretty*, before clearing his throat slightly, hopefully subtley. "So, your friend is gender fluid, huh?"

"Yeah! Their name is MJ, or Michelle, depending on the day, and they switched between they/them and she/her pronouns. Today's a they day, but MJ's amazing. They're very blunt and honest with you, which I really need sometimes, and they can seem very stand off ish at first, but that's just because they've been through a lot, you know? They're so sweet once you get to know them, they-"

Harley had been nodding along, smiling and 'uh huh'ing in all the right places, watching dreamily as Peter rambled and ranted about his friend, his curly hair bouncing in front of his eyes when he moves frantically, full of excitement, like he loves talking about his friends, loves talking in general from the looks of it (Harley doesnt mind one bit, mind you), his soft, caramel eyes swirl and churn, showing his emotions like an open book, Peter wearing his heart on his sleeve, so pure, innocent, hopeful, his lips moving and articulating every sound and vowel, every consonant-

*McDonald's* Harley realizes as Peter continues his speech, now discussing his other friend, his best friend Ned. Peter was the boy from McDonalds, sitting with the middle aged women. That's where he knew him from!

Man, even before they met, he was lost for this boy. Who knew?

A ding! interrupts Peter, right as he was getting starting to talk about his and Ned science project they were working on together, and Peter's eyes go as wide as saucers as he checks his phone. Harley wouldve laughed at his openly shocked expression, *so expressive!*, if he wasn't so worried.

"Shit! Sorry, I gotta go, my aunt's waiting for me and she's pissed!" He scrambles around, putting his phone away and grabbing his backpack off of the floor, when did he have a backpack? Harley hadn't noticed, and sending Harley another small, sheepish smile. "Sorry for rambling too, I- do that."

"Its okay, no worries." He sends the boy a reassuring grin, and Peter grins back.

"Okay, good, great." He starts to walk into the already waiting elevator, but pauses right in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at Harley, looking shy again suddenly. "...I'll see you around?"

Harley's heart skips a beat. Damn it, Peter, so fucking cute. "Yeah, of course." He says softly, quietly, honestly. He fucking hopes he sees Peter again. He'll make sure to, even if it means bothering his dad. Tony will live.

Peter brightens up again, and Harley's heart melts. "Okay, good. See ya!" He calls out just as the doors shut, their eyes staying connected the entire time before.

Harley presses a hand to his cheek, feeling heat come off of it in waves, and chuckles slightly, feeling like a lovesick puppy. He barely knows Peter, doesn't even know if he's gay, or bi, or likes boys at all, but he'll be damned if he doesn't get to know him, even if it is just as a friend. Harley was determined. He was gonna get to know Peter Parker even if it was the last thing he ever did.

First things first though. He turns, walking into the living room.

"Dad, why the hell didn't you tell me your assistant was cute?!?"

--
And [he] will never have to wonder [his] worth, because unlike you, I'm gonna put [him] first.
--

He feels a small nose nuzzles further into his chest as Peter shifts, getting more comfortable in his arms, a small, content sigh escaping his lips when he does.

It has been a few months since their first meeting, and Tony had been right ("as always!" Harley could almost hear him saying), they had gotten along like a wildfire, their friendship hot, burning in its intensity, yet soft and warm to be around, going from acquaintances to friends to best friends (to maybe something more, of Harley was reading the situation right) in a flash, faster than even Tony had expected. They texted almost everyday, hung out every other one, helped each other out in the lab, gossiped about people from Peter's school and even sometimes ones from Harley's, shared secrets, some silly, some deep, some dark, some light and airy. Harley had even become good friends with Ned and MJ/Michelle too, clicking with them almost the same way he had with Peter, and he had gotten the honor of meeting Peter's guardian, his Aunt May, who had quickly grown to treat him as family as the months went on.

They spend as much time together as possible, and Harley loved every damn second of it.

Like now, where they were laying together in Peter's room, cuddled up on Peter's bed, Harley wrapped around Peter like an octopus, and Peter curled up to his chest, his head placed over his heart. The boy was dozing lightly, eyes half open as he seemingly tried to watch the movie, Indiana Jones, but failed miserably. Harley had given up on the  movie a while ago, letting it drone on aimlessly in the background as he stared at the beauty that was Peter Benjamin Parker.

As their friendship evolved, so had Harley's feelings, growing louder, stronger, and much much harder to ignore. Harley had fallen head over heels for him, for his gorgeous face, adorable personality, his quirky nature, his cheekiness that had appeared out of nowhere one day when he had gotten comfortable around Harley, his smile *Oh god his smile*, and his big, doe, baby doll eyes that Harley absolutely adored. Adored. They were so pure, yet showed all of his intellegence, his wisdom, his kindness and care for everyone around him (another thing Harley loved about him), his trustworthiness, everything, everything good about Peter you could just tell by looking into his eyes. And Harley just wanted to melt into them, to get as close to them as possible and to watch them slowly close as he kissed him, and pressed his small, short, lithe body to Harleys tall, lanky one.

And when Harley had discovered that Peter was bisexual, the feelings had tripled, no, quadrupled, and Harley knew he was screwed.

Now, he was sat here with a handful of that exact boy snuggled into his chest, holding on to him like a giant teddy bear, his puppy dog eyes blinking slowly at the t.v., trying their best to stay awake, and all he could do was stare, and imagine. Dream. Hope.

Theres no way Peter doesn't feel the same way, right? There couldn't be. Peter had showed signs, had hinted at having feelings for Harley too. A soft touch of his hand here and there, sometimes holding his hand when he was feeling extra confident, a kiss on the cheek every once in a while as a thank you, setting both his and Harleys face ablaze, their cuddle sessions they always seemed to have, no matter where they were. A glance or two in his direction whenever he thought Harley wasn't looking. He had even worn Harley's sweater around the house the other day, the fabric swallowing his body, saying that he had felt lonely and wanted his comfort while Harley was out doing something unimportant. (Harley had almost collapsed when he first walked in and saw Peter that way, his jaw dropped and his face burning, his body reacting in wanted and unwanted ways to the image of Peter ingulfed in his sweater. Abbie had taken a picture of it, snickering and his dad had told him to shut his mouth cause he was catching flies. Peter had just chuckled and smiled warmly at him, making his heart stutter too.)

Peter had to have feelings for him too, he had to. Right? This couldn't just be in his head, right?

"Harls?" Harley flinches lightly, realizing there was sleepy caramel eyes staring straight at him, still half open, but instead of contentness and relaxed, they were full of concern and worry.

"Yeah,sweetheart?" He murmurs softly, sweetly, his hand running through Peter soft, soft curls, Peter almost purring in his arms at the touch. Another thing he learned with time, Peter loved soft, careful touches, and especially loved someone playing with his hair.

Peter smiles drozily, but it's still slightly crooked, showing his concern with ease, his face lightly flushing at the pet name, even after all these months. "You okay? Your heart's beating like crazy."

Ah. So it is. He now feels the fast paced ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum in his chest, trying to break through his ribcage and get to its rightful owner. Of course Peter would hear it, lying directly over it with his head. He could probably feel it too, from the strength of the beats. He looks at the gorgeous boy in front of him, his open wide now, almost owlish, full of worry and concern and care, a tiny frown tilting his lips. Peter cares so much about him, it's so obvious, so open on Peter's face. Harley can't be wrong about this, can he?

He musters up as much courage as he can, and pulls Peter a little bit closer, their faces inching closer together. "Can I tell ya something, Pete?"

The worry grows in his eyes, and he tilts his head slightly, looking so much like a goddamn puppy, confused and so fricken adorable. "Yeah, of course!" He shifts again, so that his body is facing Harley completely, having him his full attention. "What's up?"

Harley takes a deep breath. This is it, either he read the signs right, and things go great, or he read things wrong and he fucks it all up. Moment of truth. Good Lord he hopes he's right. He opens his mouth, then shuts it, a new plan in mind. "A-Actually," damn his nerves for making him stutter. "Can I just show you?"

It's cliche, the whole 'kiss them instead of telling them' thing. But Harley really wants to kiss Peter, and by the slight recognition and another unknown emotion now swirling in Peter's eyes, his pupils dilating slightly, his gaze flicking to Harley's mouth subtly, it seems like Peter wants to as well. Cliches be damned.

Peter nods once, and Harley doesn't waste a second before leaning in. He does so slowly, giving Peter plenty of time to pull away and refuse if this isn't what he wanted. But Peter never does, just let's out a shaky breath that Harley can feel brush against his lips, warm and smelling of popcorn they had eaten earlier that evening, and flutters his eyes closed, open, waiting. Harley can't wait any longer.

He pushes their lips together gently, causiously, and Peter gasps against him, before melting into it, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Harleys neck, bringing him a little closer. Harley hand find their way to Peter's back, pressing him closer as well before he moves his lips once, twice, against Peter's. Peter follows suit in a soft, light dance of admiration, so innocent and pure, full of love and shared feelings, full of hope for the future, their future. Together.

Harley pulls away, but doesnt go far,  just enough apart to breathe, keeping their foreheads pressed together. He reopens his eyes to see Peter already staring at him, full of love, happiness, hope, a wide smile on his face. Harley reciprocates the feelings tenfold, his heart hammering and his chest feeling as light as a feather, so so unbelievably happy, so so lucky. "That okay?" He asks, even though he already knows the answer.

Peter laughs breathlessly, the air puffing against Harley's face, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of Harley's neck."Yeah, yeah that's okay. More than okay. Great. Fantastic. Amazing. Wow."

Harley laughs too, feeling giddy, warmth flooding him, surging through his veins, his excitement almost making him vibrate in his spot. He really, really wants to kiss Peter again, but there's something he's gotta do first. He places a hand on Peter's face, rubbing his thumb over his warm, almost burning cheek, murmuring softly, full of adoration, "Peter, will you be my boyfriend?"

Peter's face breaks into the most blinding smile Harley's ever seen, big, wide and toothy, before he lunges, wrapping his arms around Harley's neck as he kisses him again, harder this time, more passionate, but so so so full of love. Harley laughs into his mouth, kissing him back full earnest before pulling away and teasing, "As much as I loved that, that's not an answer, sweetheart." He just wants to hear the words, honestly.

Peter rolls his eyes, clearly amused, beaming. "Of course I will, asshole."

"Good, just wanted to make sure." He murmurs softly before kissing him again, getting lost in the sensations and feelings he feels for the boy, his boyfriend, in front of him, the rest of the world being blocked out, the movie long long long forgotten.

--
And you know, he'll never walk away, he'll never break [my] heart. He'll take care of things, he'll love [me]!
--

~~

"Are you watching, daddy? Are you watching?!?" A little girl, short as can be, but with the brightest, toothiest smile calls from her spot on top of the jungle jim, standing right at the top of the slide.

"Yeah, I see ya, starlight!" He calls back, a wide grin on his own face at the sight of the little girl, feeling fierce waves of pride shooting through his body, mixed with lingering concern and fear, but it feels like hes used to that for some reason.

The little girl faces lights up at his answer, before she sits at the top of the slide, pushing her long, strawberry blond hair out of her face, out of her dark caramel brown eyes, and pressing down her small, kind of poofy red dress she was wearing. "Okay! Here I come, papa!"

*Papa?*

The little girl pushes down the slide hard as possible, shooting like a rocket down the smooth but dented metal and into strong, muscled yet lean arms, hands catching underneath her armpits as she reaches the bottom, and lifting her immediately into the air, making her giggle loudly.

"Wow! That was the fastest yet, ____!!" Peter states, sounding just as proud as Harley feels, his face full of pride, adoration, and love, the end of his sentence fading away, sounding like it was said under water.

"Was it?? Was it, daddy?!?" The girl looks over to him, eyes shining with joy, hope, pure utter innocence only a child could bare. *Daddy? Papa?*

He doesn't feel himself walk over to them, but suddenly he's there, kissing her forehead as Peter holds her to his hip, and pushing her hair out of her forehead. "It really was, pumpkin. You went so fast, I only saw a blur!"

She giggles again, bouncing in Peter's arms. "Yay! A blur, like a lighting- lighten- lightenen-"

"Lightning." Peter supplies lightly, his face so soft, caring, gentle, eyes only for the girl in his arms.

"Li-ten-ning," she echoes slowly, practicing the new word on her tongue before continuing with the same bubbling energy as before. "Like a Li-ten-ning bolt!"

"Yeah sweetpea, like a lightening bolt." He feels an overwhelming amount of emotion, of joy and excitement and nerves and care and pride and love, all for this one little girl and her slightly crooked grin, her contagious laughter, her big round puppy dog eyes. He adored this little girl. Through and through. He kisses her forehead again.

"My brave little girl."

~~

Harley doesn't shoot up in his bed, panting like you'd expect. No, instead, he shifts slightly, stifles a yawn and blinks his eyes open slowly, stretching his arms in front of him, feeling a weight holding him down, Peter's arm around his waist. Only after this does the memory of the dream catch up with him.

He stiffens, eyes widening. *What the hell was that?* He slowly shifts the arm off of him, carefuly placing it back down so Peter doesn't wake, his husband still fast asleep sprawled out on their bed, before getting up and stepping into the ensuite attached to their bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

He turns on the tap, putting his slightly shaking hands under the nipping cold water and splashing it into his face, running his cold, wet hands down his face afterwards, making himself more awake and aware. He can feel his breathing getting a bit faster and heavier, and shuts off the tap, staring down at the pearly white bowl and the pitch black drain, his hands now firmly gripping on to the cool granite counter top, his knuckles turning white.

He doesn't know why the dream won't leave his mind like they usually do, why its making him so... unsettled, but also so hopeful.

He knows how great of a father Peter would be, how amazing of a step older brother he was to Abbie while she grew up, to his littlest sister Morgan now whenever Tony and Pepper bring her over. How he plays with her whenever she wants him to, dolls or tea parties or superheroes, whatever it may be. How he brushes her hair, and puts it into braids or curls or other hairstyles, depending on her mood of the day. How he reads her bedtime stories whenever they stay the night at the cabin, or tells her his more child friendly Spider-Man stories until she falls sound asleep to the sound of his voice. How he always kisses her forehead once she does, pushes up the blankets until they're tucked just under her chin, and shuts the door behind him when he leaves, a pattern Harley has watched from afar and was absolutely smitten with.

He knows how much Peter longs for a kid of his own, how much he always has. And he knows Peter would be amazing at it, the perfect father, just like Tony was, is, to him, but...

Harley looks up, and his heart sinks, his throat tightens and his chest aches. The person staring back at him blankly is the exact reason why Harley can't, shouldn't, have kids of his own.

The shaggy, wavy dirty blond hair falling into his face, every which way, unkempt, unruly. The dark blue irises shining lighter in the warm yellow glow of the bathroom light, just the same as they did that faithful night illuminated by the hallway light, staring back at him coldly, full of disgust and hatred. The same angular features, the same softer jawline and cheekbones, hell, the same messy five o'clock shadow surrounding his lips and spreading over his cheeks due to Harley not bothering to shave yet this week.

This image, his father glaring back at him through this mirror is the exact reason Harley could never have a child of his own. His father looms over him, his shadow following him where ever he goes through Harley's actions, his voice, his physique. It used to bother his mom sometimes, seeing a mini Tim running around, it still bothers Abbie from time to time, thinking their father has come back to hurt her more, and it haunts Harley's every waking moment. He shares his looks, his blood. His actions would come next, wouldn't it? If he were to have a child, even if the child wouldn't be blood, couldn't be, wouldn't he just... Follow in his fathers footsteps?

And that thought horrifies him. He feels the disgust swirling in his stomach, causing it to twist and turn over and over. The thought that one day, he could look at his child, children maybe, look at his husband, and want to leave, want to leave them behind and start a new life... It makes Harley want to throw up, cry, and scream all at once. With his stomach flipping the way it is, and his eye burning, two of those thing may end up coming true.

But at the same time... He wants it, too. Wants a baby to hold and coddle, wants a toddler to run around with and play house with, wants a preteen to scold for sneaking out and to hold and soothe when they cry, wants a young adult to watch grow up and to cry into Peter's shoulder over once they move out. He wants that, he wants to have a family, wants to watch a little human grow up, to nurture and care for and love with all of his heart. He wants it, and it wants it all with Peter, his loving, doting, adoring husband who has been with him since day one through thick and thin, and always will be. *For as long as we both shall live.*

He looks down at the vibranium ring Peter had created for their wedding rings, and twists it around his finger, the light purple hue glowing at his contact before fading again. Those were their vows, their promise to each other, their forever. And Harley did want that with Peter, that forever, for as long as they live, together.

Then he looks back up into the mirror, into the cruel, mocking image, telling him he'll never have that, he'll leave, he'll be just like his father, and he can't help but doubt. Doubt that he can be there forever, doubt that he can be good enough for Peter's forever, doubt that he could be a father, a good father, a dad to a kid, doubt of ever being better than his father was.

"Harls?" A soft, slightly slurred voice reaches the bathroom as a light knock sounds on the door. "You in there?"

Harley sniffles, rubbing the wetness from his eyes and his cheeks, shaking himself out of his thoughts. He forces his voice to be steady "Yeah, I'm in here, gimme a sec-"

He flushes the toilet to pretend that he had used it, before opening the door, seeing his still half asleep husband leaning against the door frame, his usually tamed hair freely curly and all over the place, his pjs crinkled and creased from his sleep. He's wiping at his eye, yawning slightly when Harley opens the door, but as soon as his husband sees him it drops from his face and reaches for Harley's, cupping his cheek, his light brown eyes creased with concern. "Hey, are you okay? What happened?"

Of course he'd notice right away, Peter can read him like a fucking book. Usually Harley loves that about him, but tonight, not so much. He shakes his head and gives Peter as strong of a smile as he can. "I'm alright, don't worry. Let's just head back to bed, hey?"

Peter just stares at him, unimpressed and clearly not buying it, waiting for Harley to break and tell him. He knows his husband way too well by now. Harley sighs and gives in, shoulders dropping and eyes falling. "It's really nothing, Pete."

"Doesn't look like nothing." The hand on his cheek shifts to the back of his neck, rubbing at the hair on the nape of his neck. "What's going on, baby?" His voice is still soft, soothing.

Harley looks back to Peter, the twenty five year old staring back at him with nothing but the utmost concern and care, and Harley breaks completely, laying his forehead on to his husband's shoulder, gripping on to his hips lightly as Peter returns the embrace, sighing shakily, tears returning to his eyes. He finally admits whats been on his mind for longer than he cares to admit. "...do you think I'd be a good father?"

Peter's breathe stutters, like he wasn't expecting that question, Harley doesn't blame him, before he schools himself and answers, tone almost incredulous, but still quiet, concerned. "Of course you would be, Harley. You'd be amazing." His hand runs down his back slowly, before moving back upwards in a circling motion. "Where'd that come from?"

A few of the tears fall, dropping on to Peter's shoulder, a few dark patches on his red pj shirt. "I don't know, I just-" He tightens his grip on Peter's hips, holding him a little closer before whispering, "I want a baby." Harley pauses to judge Peter's answer, and Peter's hand stills for a second, before continuing it's soothing gestures, so Harley takes that as Peter being okay with it and as a cue to continue too. "But I- every time I look in the mirror, I see my father's face, and I remember that I share his blood and I can't-" he breaks off and squeezes his eyes shut, more tears escaping.

"Oh baby..." Peter presses him closer, holds him tighter. "You aren't him, Harley."

"But what if I end up like him, Pete? What if one day, I wake up, and I want to leave, leave you, leave our kid, I-" a sob wrecks his body. "I can't do that, I couldn't bare to do that."

"You wouldn't Harls." Peter lets out a sigh, the air brushing against Harley's temple before Peter place a kiss there and pulls back, grabbing his hand. "Come here," he brings him back into the bathroom, placing Harley facing the mirror and wrapping his arms around Harley's waist, placing his head on his shoulder as he whispers into his ear, "You wanna know what I see? When I look at you?"

Harley pauses, getting a good look at his red, blotchy face, tear stained and gross, before nodding, self hatred curling in his chest at the sight of his reflection, his father in the mirror.

"I see a man who's smile lights up a room, and who's laugh is contagious, making everyone else laugh right along with him." Peter kisses his neck gently, emphasizing his point. "I see a man who always gets me coffee in the morning, and makes me breakfast in bed whenever he can, just because he knows it makes me happy." Another kiss, harder as Harley shakes with another sob in his arms. "I see a man who loves his baby sisters with all of his heart, and would do absolutely anything to ensure their happiness, and mine. I see a man who stays up all night whenever I'm out, just to make sure I'm okay before going to bed. I see a man who puts himself behind others, and always wants to help the one he loves. I see a man who will always be there for the people he loves, no matter the circumstances or the consequences. I see a man who loves his family to pieces, and wouldn't even dream of leaving it, not until his very last breath. I see you, Harley Tyler Parker-Keener, I see you, my husband, the love of my life. Not your father. You." Harley is full out crying now, shutters and shivers, sobs and whimpers, as Peter lists off everything, kissing his neck, his cheek, his collar bone after each one, obviously speaking from his heart, his eyes not once disconnecting with Harley's through the mirror. "And I know, for a fact, that you, Mr. Parker, would make an amazing, caring, loving father."

Harley turns in Peter's arms, curling into his chest and sobbing, nodding, agreeing, feeling so warm, loved, happy. Peter kisses the top of his head, mumbling an "I love you" against him, and Harley lifts his head, pressing a kiss to his lips, hopefully saying all of his thankfulness, all of his warmth, his adoration for this one man in front of him, holding him close.

When they break, Peter presses another kiss to his forehead before joking, "come on, we'll talk more in depth about the whole 'hey i want a baby' thing in the morning, I want my beauty sleep." And Harley follows without question, like he always will for Peter, always.

With this man, this one, perfectly imperfect person by his side, Harley thinks that maybe, he could do anything. Maybe even be a dad.

--
Piece by piece, he restores my faith, that a man can be kind and a father should be great.
--

A phone rings, echoing in the dark, once silent room and both men groan loudly. Peter untangled himself from Harley, causing him to groan again, and reach to pull the man back, only to be waved away. Harley grumbles, thinking it's way too early for this, he had only just gone to bed, he was sure of it, so he relaxes again and dozes off, knowing Peter will take care of whatever is happening, allowing unconciousness to grab at him again.

Until hands are grasping at his shoulders and shaking him awake with way too much energy, and a voice, brimmed with excitement, is calling out to him. "Harley, Harls, baby, wake up, it's time! It's time!"

And Harley shoots up, eyes wide staring straight into Peter's sparkling ones, filled to the brim with pure happiness, joy, and slight nerves. "Time?" He echoes, until his brain catches up to his body and he jumps up and out of bed, hitting the ground heavily but not caring, energy surging through him, mirroring Peter's. "Holy shit, its time?!?" He is still staring at his husband, eyes still wide but with hope instead of shock.

Peter nods, smiling from ear to ear, hair flopping all over the place. "Yeah, that was the hospital, Maria started her labour a few hours ago, baby's almost here now."

"Holy Shit-" he chokes out, laughing, filling with so many positive emotions that he can't keep straight. He gets up as Peter does, running around to get dressed and packed, ready as much as they can be. "This is happening." Suddenly he stops, fear shooting up his spine. "Jesus, this is happening."

Hands grab at his shoulders, messaging them as Peter kisses his cheek. "Hey, hey, none of that. We're fine, we're ready, remember?"

Harley nods, kind of dumbfounded suddenly, feeling lightheaded. "Yeah, yeah, ready. I just-" he races away, opens a room right next to theirs and a breath he doesnt even realize he was holding escapes in relief.

The walls a light beige color, sort of like the belly of a dark brown teddy bear, a crib placed in the middle of the left wall, a rocking chair in the right corner, next to a bookshelf, full of children's books and different toys, and next to that, a big drawer, full of different clothes and diapers. Harley knew that in the closet, next to the crib on the left wall, there was even more toys and more materials yet to be set up. Ready. They were ready. As prepared as they could be.

They had read up and studied and prepared as much as they could for their upcoming baby, yet his brain still gave him doubts, still gave him what ifs, still showed him his father in the mirror instead of his own reflection. He shakes his head quickly, grabbing the already packed bag on the floor, ready for this exact moment. There was no time for his self doubt. Their baby, *oh my god their baby* was on the way, whether he was really ready or not. He reshuts the door and finds his husband at the front door of their big apartment, tying up his shoes.

Peter gives him a big, almost sympathetic smile, reading his mind like he always seemed to do, but he doesnt make a comment on it, just kisses his cheek and asks, "ready to be a daddy?"

"Ready to be a papa?" He returns, kissing him on the lips before leaning down to put on his own shoes.

Peter laughs quietly, shakily, showing his own nervousness, but the smile on his face shows he isn't too too concerned as he says the words that symbolize both of their feeling pretty well, "As ready as I'm gonna be!"

They race to the hospital, going a little bit over the speed limit, and rush to the baby section of the hospital, meeting up with doctors and following them into a room, a waiting room. They stay there for what feels like a few hours, but is probably only a half an hour or so, until the doctors come back and drag them away to another room, this one full of different babies, all of them different shapes, sizes and skin tones, all unique to their own families. Everything is moving so fast, Harley can barely keep up, but once the doctor stops at a smaller sized, but still cubby baby in the corner of the room, everything slows to a stop.

A few curls of darker hair on their head, eyes still shut, but face relaxed, an almost smile on their face, their cheeks super chubby for their tiny, tiny face and body, skin pale, freshly cleaned after being delivered. A baby. Their baby. He looks down at the little sign, in front of the little bed where the baby is laying, reading 'its a girl!'. A girl. Their baby. Their baby girl. Theirs.

The doctors say something, and Harley can see Peter nod in the corner of his eye, but he doesn't hear it, doesn't respond, all of his attention, focus, everything is for this baby girl, this perfect creature right in front of his eyes. He's in awe. How can this piece of perfection, be his? Be theirs?

Harley suddenly realizes he spoke too soon, as the doctors pick her up and ever so gently places her in Peter's arms, moving them to ensure he's bracing her head and holding her body the correct way and suddenly the air is knocked out of him. This, this is perfection. His husband, the love of his life, holding an angel personified, the biggest smile Harley's ever seen breaking his face even as tears slip down and drip off of his chin, eyes fixed only on the squirming bundle in his arms, full of pure, fierce, unbridled love.

Harley realizes immediately that he'd kill anyone, anyone that got in the way of this, cut them up into tiny little bits and throw them down the trash shoot. He'll beat up anyone, anyone who dares hurt Peter, hurt this little girl, who dare hurt his family, hell, he'd kill himself if it meant this picture never gets to leave, never gets ruined, never gets broken. He'll do anything to keep this family together, keep his family happy and safe.

He could never, ever, ever leave them. How could he?

He has everything he could ever want and more. He doesn't understand how his father could leave this behind. Harley can't bare the thought for a second. And he realizes then, in this moment, that he will never be like his father. He will never leave them behind, he couldn't. He'd rather die.

Suddenly, Peter looks up to him and he's getting the bundle placed into his own arms, and everything clicks. Suddenly, everything Harley felt was out of place, off kilter his entire life, finally fit together like a puzzle set, clicking into place, forming to create the perfect, beautiful picture. He stares down at the little girl, his little girl, wiggling and almost giggling, smiling and moving her face like crazy, hand wrapped tightly around one of his fingers *god she's so tiny*, and Harley feels whole. Complete, that small hole burned in his chest by his father filling up quickly by the sight of their daughter in his arms.

Everything is right. Everything is right with the world, with Peter, with Harley, now that this bundle, their daughter, is born, is here, in their lives.

And when Tony, Pepper, Morgan and Abbie show up a few minutes later, each taking their turn (minus Morgan, as she's too small) to hold their bundle of joy, of love, to coo and stare in wonder at her, Peter and Harley watching from the side, curled up together, full of joy and pride, everything is completely and utterly perfect.

His father may have left him as a kid, may have scarred him and his sister for the rest of their lives, but what Harley got in return for that one loss was everything Harley could ever ask for. He got a mom who, even though she didn't get to watch him grow up, loved him with all her heart, a sister who protected and trusted him with the world, with her life, a real dad, a true dad, who truly cares about him for him, a husband who he couldn't imagine his life without, and now, a daughter, who he would never leave behind, never abandon, and who he would cherish for all of his waking days.

Everything is exactly as its supposed to be. And Harley wouldn't want it any other way.

--
Piece by piece, Piece by piece.
--