#jack always sits next to it if Harley’s there so i put a little blanket down and it’s been wildly successful

[dogduocatquartet]

harley doesn’t like sharing the basket so they take turns

[petersasteria]

168 Hours - Haz Osterfield (2)

Pairing: Haz x Reader

Haz Osterfield Masterlist ||  Ultimate Masterlist || 168 Hours Masterlist

DISCLAIMER:  *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which your son’s wish comes true and it turns horrible. Now, he has to fix it in 168 hours.

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐲 James Osterfield is Y/N and Harrison's first born. He came into their lives unexpectedly, but he was a great surprise and a great addition to their relationship. They got married when Harley was three years old. Y/N's mom never got over what she did to Tom. Y/N's mom definitely took it to heart. Y/N's dad never really liked Tom, but he didn't show it and Y/N was grateful for that. Y/N's dad preferred Harrison and he loved Harrison for his daughter.

Y/N's mom didn't like Harrison, mainly because he wasn't Tom. Y/N and Tom were very civil and they're now good friends; putting the past behind them. Tom was even there at Y/N's wedding. Regardless of being just friends, Y/N's mom still wished that Y/N would've stuck with Tom. Y/N was angry at her mom for thinking that way and for making Harrison cry himself to sleep every night.

This little schism was instantly fixed when Harley was born. Harley is definitely their little angel; their saving grace. He was the golden boy and he was always the one showered with every love and gift.

Of course, all good things must come to an end because all of that changed when he turned four.  

His sister, Harper, was born when he was four years old. He was confused when everyone started paying less attention to him. He was everyone's favorite then and now he wasn't the favorite because of a certain baby girl. He could've sworn he just blinked.

Harley took it badly. Despite that, he loved his parents. He started to accept everyone favoring his sister with a heavy heart, but the moment he knew when he felt like a waste of space in the family was when he turned nine and his little brother Harvey was born.

He hated his life. He hated his siblings for robbing him of his spotlight. The moment Harper was born, he did everything to be noticed. His uncle Tom loved him, though. Harley is and always will be, Tom's favorite. Tom spoiled the kid so much and treated him like his own. Naturally, Harley told Tom all about his jealousy.

"Just remember that I'm always here for you and you're my favorite." Tom said to Harley when he took him on a weekend trip to Disneyland Paris.

"But why am I your favorite?" Harley asked. He wondered why his uncle Tom loved to hang out with him all the time.

"Because you just are." Tom shrugged. "Besides, everyone is already paying enough attention to Harper. Someone needs to pay attention to you too and that someone is me. You can always count on me, buddy."

"Thanks uncle Tom." Harley smiled brightly. Tom chuckled and ruffled his hair, "Ready to go on the next ride?"

"Yeah!"

"Let's go!"

Harley told Tom everything. He told Tom about wanting to learn guitar and Tom bought him his first guitar the second Harley told him he wanted to learn. Harley was over the moon when Tom bought him his first guitar. And for a while, everyone's attention turned back to Harley and they were happy for him.

Now that there's a new addition to the family, his short lived spotlight was given to Harvey, his little brother. Harley wanted to give everything he had in exchange for a bit more attention. After all, he was deprived of it.

Harley is now ten years old and he signed up for his school's talent show with his best friend. He told his parents all about it and they promised they'd be there. He also invited Tom, but Tom had already made a very important business commitment that he can't back out of. However, Tom promised Harley that he'd make it up to him the day after.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Harley asks his parents before walking out the door. Harley's getting a lift from his best friend, Jack, because they want to practice together.

"Of course! We'll be there." Harrison smiles at him and kisses his forehead. "Good luck!"

"Thanks. Bye mum!" Harley calls out. Y/N looks up from Harvey's toys on the floor and smiles at her eldest, "Bye, sweetheart! See you later! You'll smash it!"

That was this afternoon. The talent show started at 6pm. It's now 7:30 and Harley was peeking through the side of the stage to catch a glimpse of his parents, but they weren't there.

"Please welcome Harley Osterfield and Jack Smith!" the host says.

"What?! It can't be our turn yet. My parents aren't here yet." Harley gasps as he looks at Jack.

"But we have to get out there or they won't let us play anymore." Jack says. "We've been practicing for ages and I know that you don't want to waste it. So, let's get out there and play!"

Harley nods, "You're right. Fuck my parents."

Jack's eyes widen, "That's a bad word, but I agree. Let's rock it!" Jack grabs his drumsticks and runs on stage with Harley running behind him whilst holding his guitar.

Harley plays the intro chords to "Don't Stop Believing" and the crowd cheers. It was a secret that Harley could sing really well. Even Tom didn't know. This talent show was supposed to be a surprise, but none of them showed up.

"Just a small town girl living in a lonely world. She took the midnight train going anywhere..." Harley sings just in time.

After the song, they bow and the crowd cheers for them. They run backstage and hug each other. Jack pulls away, "I think we did great!"

"Yeah! I hope we win!" Harley smiles.

They did win. They each received a trophy instead of sharing just one. Harley is really disappointed at his parents, but Mrs. Smith offers to buy the kids dinner at their favorite restaurant.

It's now 9:45pm and Harley just got home. He waves goodbye to his best friend and Mrs. Smith before ringing the doorbell. The door quickly opens only to reveal Y/N. Harley pushes past her and walks straight upstairs.

Y/N sighs, knowing that her eldest is very upset. She locks the front door and motions for Harrison to follow her to Harley's bedroom. They walk to his room and they knock.

"Go away!" Harley says through the door. He didn't have to open the door to see who it is. He just knows.

"Harley, we're so sorry we didn't go." Harrison sighs. "We knew how much it meant to you and-"

The door suddenly opens and Harley looks at them angrily, "No, you don't know how much it meant to me because if you did, you would've went. But you didn't!"

They enter his room and close the door. Harley sits on the edge of his bed, facing away from the two people who were once his greatest heroes.

"But you have to understand that we got so caught up with work and taking care of your siblings that we forgot." Y/N explains.

"Oh, here we go again with my siblings." Harley groans. "Would it hurt you to spare at least one second for me?! Or do you really not have any time for me at all?"

"Harley, don't be ridiculous. We always spend time with you!" Harrison rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Harley looks his father in the eye and asks, "Oh, yeah? When was the last time you took me out for ice cream?"

"Last we-"

"Just you and me, dad." Harley adds.

Harrison thinks for a moment and he couldn't remember. Harley was right after all. Harley scoffs, "I knew it. Sometimes I wish that uncle Tom is my dad. He gives me presents and he takes me to different places and he loves me."

Harrison's face drops and his heart sinks to his stomach as soon as Harley said those vile words, "What?"

"You heard me." Harley sasses.

"Harley James Osterfield, that is no way to talk to your father like that." Y/N says sternly. She knew that was Harrison's biggest insecurity. She just couldn't believe that their own son would say such things.

"Uncle Tom pays attention to me and he was always there for me when I needed someone." Harley tells them. "While you were busy with Harper and Harvey, uncle Tom was listening to my stories from school."

"But we're your parents." Harrison glares. "We'll always be your parents and there's nothing you could do about it. So whether you like it or not, you're stuck with us mister."

"I wish I wasn't!" Harley shouts.

"Keep your voice down! Your brother and sister are sleeping." Y/N hisses. Harley frustratedly shouts, "I hate you!!"

"That's it!" Harrison yells. "You're grounded!"

"Oooh, I'm scared!" Harley says sarcastically as Harrison shakes his head and walks out of his beloved son's room. Y/N sighs and leaves too and closes the door behind her.

"I'm sorry about Harley." Y/N sighs and pulls Harrison into a hug. "I'm sure he didn't mean it. We all say things we don't mean when we're angry."

"I think he meant it, Y/N." Harrison whispers. Y/N pulls away and they look at each other and sigh before going back to the living room to clean up.

Harley brushes his teeth and plops on his bed, not bothering to change into his pajamas. He plays a game on his iPad and checks the time.

11:11 PM

Harley becomes conflicted. He heard from his female friends that people make wishes when the clock strikes 11:11. He sighs and gives it a shot.

"I don't know if this is true, but I wish mum and dad never met!" Harley says angrily. He yawns and goes to sleep after that.

-

Harley starts to feel uncomfortable and slightly cold. He could've sworn he had a blanket last night. He opens his eyes and looks around.

'Oh, I'm outside.' Harley thinks as he closes his eyes again. 'Oh my god, I'm outside.'

His eyes widen in realization and he quickly sits up and looks around in panic.

"Uh, hi?" a voice of a man says. Harley looks up and gasps, "Who-Who are you?? Where's my house?! Where are my parents? Where's Harper and Harvey?!"

Harley frantically asks the man in front of him. "Whoa, okay slow down. I don't know what happened and I don't know who those people are." the man says as extends a hand to help Harley up. The boy hesitantly takes his hand and the man helps him up, "I'm Amadis. I'm the angel of wishes."

Harley scrunches up his face in confusion, "Are you joking? There's no such thing as an angel of wishes!"

'This Amadis guy must be pulling my leg.' Harley thinks.

"Yes there is and it's me." Amadis argues with a smirk.  "I'm here because someone wished for something messed up and I assume that you're the one who wished for something messed up. Now tell me what you wished for."

"I don't remem-" Harley's confused face turns into shock as the thing he wished for last night hits him, "Oh my god, I wished that my parents never met! I wished it last night!"

Harley squeezes his eyes shut. 'There's no way this 11:11 thing is true!' Harley thinks.

Amadis raises his eyebrows, "First of all, you broke commandment number three which is '𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐧'. And why on earth did you wish that?! That really is messed up."

'Because I was really mad at them.' Harley thinks to himself.

"What do I do?" Harley looks at Amadis with tears in his eyes. Amadis' expression softens, "Before I got here, Gabriel told me that I'm here for one week. I guess my task is to help you get your parents back together in one week."

"Okay but how?" Harley asks, wanting to get it over with. Amadis shrugs, "I don't know anything about your parents. You should at least know their love story."

'Love story?!' Harley thinks.

Harley doesn't know much about his parents' 'love story'. All he knows is that they met at a book shop and fell in love. His parents never said any detail.

"We'll tell you when you're older so you can understand." Harrison told his beloved son. Harley pouts, "Why not now?"

Harrison looked at him and sighed, "It's complicated."

"Oh, I know that!" Harley lies with a smile on his face. His stomach growls and he and Amadis make eye contact. Harley gives him a sheepish smile, "Oops. I'm hungry."

"Same here. I never got to eat before coming here." Amadis chuckles. "Gabriel told me that everything is ready for me at the angels' apartment building. I've been up in heaven for a long time now and I've been reading maps so, I know where that is."

Harley nods and they start to walk away from the empty lot where his house used to be. "I'm Harley, by the way." Harley realizes he never introduced himself and if his parents were here, they'd tell him off for being rude.

"I'm Amadis."

"You already said that." Harley rolls his eyes.

"I was just being polite."

* * * *

𝐀𝐒𝐀 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ???

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐱

[l-o-g-l-a-d-y]

The Short List

Summary: 

“Kid, you know that I have a very short list of people who I would move heaven and Earth for.” With his flesh hand, he began to tick off names. “Pepper. Morgan. Rhodey. Happy...and you. You made the cut, Pete. And honestly? I don’t know what else I have to do to prove to you that you made the list." Iron Man is retired but Tony Stark will never stop playing superhero for his kids. Or Peter Parker has a high school diploma and not a lick of common sense. Set three years post- Endgame. Featuring retired Tony and walking disaster Peter Parker.  

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18970351

Tony did not know what he did in a past life to deserve the sort of hell Peter Parker was putting him through.

It had been a normal Friday night when, for the first time in a long time, he was awoken by his AI with an urgent message.

“Boss, I am receiving an incoming message from Karen. Peter Parker is experiencing a medical emergency.”

Well, that woke him up. Beside him, Pepper stirred awake, brow furrowed in concern.

He threw the blankets off himself and scrambled to get out of bed “FRI, what happened?”

“He appears to be suffering from a severe cranial injury. Karen’s scans are reading a 7mm epidural hematoma. The bleed has stopped but the pressure against his frontal lobe and optical nerve is increasing.”

Tony felt the blood drain from his face, slapping the long unused nanite arc reactor on his chest.

“Where?”

“The midtown safe house.”

Tony whirled back around to share a confused look with Pepper. The safe house had been a byproduct of his post Battle of New York paranoia, a place to regroup nearby should the tower be overrun again. He had never dismantled it, but he had forgotten it among newer, safer, alternatives. He knew for certain he had never told the Spider-Kid about it.

“The midtown safe house?” he pressed a kiss to Pepper’s head.

“Correct, Boss.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., get me a flight plan. Don’t wait up for me, Honey!” He called over his shoulder while rushing out the door.

Tony had hung up the suit following the final Snap, all but forced into early retirement by the loss of his arm and the desire to settle down with his family. In doing so he never bothered to re-establish himself in New York City. Instead, Peter and Harley came out to the lake house on a semi-regular basis. Peter had recently graduated high school and was still adjusting to college life at NYU, so he saw his arach-kid a lot less than he would like. It was all a part of growing up, he knew, so despite the distance, Tony had eliminated some of the training wheels protocols to give the boy some space to grow. Something he was deeply regretting right then.

“How far out am I now?”

“10 minutes 42 seconds.”

“Call Peter.”

Tense seconds past before F.R.I.D.A.Y could respond “No response.”

“Fine, have Karen do another scan and get me there in five minutes.”

***

It was 12 hours later and a clusterfuck later that he found himself helping his beloved idiot walk out of the ER where they had met Dr. Cho. When Tony had first arrived on the scene, Peter had been in no shape to make the trip to the compound medbay. Tony had directed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get him to the nearest hospital and do whatever it took to have Dr. Cho meet them there as soon as possible. It had been touch and go for the first hour. The hospital was ill-prepared to treat an enhanced patient that metabolized medications as fast as they could be administered. They didn’t exactly have protocols for letting an unfamiliar doctor commandeer the operating room or for letting a patient walk out the door eight hours after having their skull cracked open.  It had taken a lot of bluffing and abuse of his privilege as that guy who saved the universe to get it done. He was getting a headache thinking of all the paperwork he would have to fudge to keep the kid’s secret identity intact.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Peter was still behind him and rolled his eyes at the sad picture he made. Peter was trudging up the hallway to the safehouse, now sporting a six-inch-long bald spot behind his left ear and approximately 20 staples.

Shouldering the door open Tony allowed himself to take in the safe house in greater detail than he had that morning. All in all, it looked like any large, empty, upper-class apartment, except for the Spidey suit on the floor of the bathroom, a backpack with a duct-taped strap, and Peter’s laptop perched at the kitchen bar.

Tony gestured to one of the barstools by the counter and let Peter sit while he proceeded to the hall closet. It was stocked with mostly expired medical supplies and a few emergency odds and ends. He popped an instant icepack, wrapped it in a washcloth and handed both to Peter to place over his swollen cheek with a wince.

“Do you want to tell me what you were doing here?” Tony started. His tone was sharper than he had intended. He saw Peter tense but he left the floor open for him to speak.

“I told you, I had heard about some messed up drug being distributed to clubs across the city. When I looked into it I realized they weren’t just peddling drugs, but weapons,-“ Peter looked away guilty “and people.” That should have been the first clue that he was in over his head.

“So, I’m just supposed to be thrilled you decided to take down a drug cartel and human trafficking ring all by your lonesome?” Tony interjected.

Peter bit his lip the way he always did before spilling his guts. “Uh, well no, technically not. Uhm…It turns out that Deadpool had been tracking the leader of this group too, so we teamed up to-“

Tony held up his hand.

“I’m sorry did you say Deadpool?” he said in mock disbelief “Am I going deaf in my old age? I know I couldn’t possibly have heard you say Deadpool, because I know you have been explicitly warned about that guy by S.H.I.E.L.D., by every hero operating in New York, and me.”

Peter frowned the way he always did before giving a heartfelt and utterly stupid argument.

“Look, I know he has a bad past but he’s really trying to turn over a new leaf! And I’ve been helping! He hasn’t killed anyone in months and Ms. Nat did it so- ”

“Hey, tt tt tt! Let me stop you right there. Natasha’s mental health and loyalty were carefully vetted over a period of years by a massive intelligence agency. You have been kadoodling about with a contract killer on the basis of a pinky promise to do better. There’s a difference.”

Peter gritted his teeth at the word kadoodle but figured he ought to pick his battles if he was going to get through the story.

“We teamed up. Apparently, someone from Sister Margret’s, which it turns out is NOT a school but a really gross bar that Deadpool hangs out at, had leaked that Deadpool and Spider-Man were onto them. It was basically an ambush, except we didn’t know it was an ambush, and Karen couldn’t tell that it was an ambush, but my spidey senses warned me at the last second. But by then, Deadpool had just charged right in! Before I could stop him! I couldn’t just leave him in there!”

Tony’s snort of derision made his opinion on that matter perfectly clear.

“So, I had to get him out.  They had way too many guns, and this ridiculously big dude in there. He was some kind of ‘enhanced’ situation though, ‘cause when he hit me it was like being punched by a rhino or something. He got a lucky shot to the back of my head when I was trying to yank Deadpool out of the line of fire. I think I greyed out because the next thing I know, Deadpool had me over one shoulder and he was shooting over the other. He managed to get us out onto a neighboring roof but I couldn’t swing us anywhere” He gave a weak attempt at a self-deprecating grin “it was kind of embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Tony scoffed. Peter watched the knuckles of Tony’s right hand whiten and heard the minute whir of his mechanical hand tighten and quickly forged ahead.

“Anyway! I knew something was wrong but I hadn’t wanted him to know where I lived or make him try to get me to  the compound, so I had him help me get here and I figured I should probably have a friend around to keep an eye on the situation so-“ Ohhh that was the wrong thing to say. A fire seemed to flare in Tony’s eyes.

“EXCUSE ME? I think you mean a MERCENARY! A very dangerous mercenary who you should not even know!”

“Mr. Stark, I know Wade is sorta-“

“Oh, Wade is it? You had your good buddy, Wade, drop you off at a safe house I haven’t even used in a half dozen years to do what exactly? Sleep off a brain hemorrhage!?”

Peter had not seen this level of ire out of Tony since the Ferry Incident of 2017. It seemed a little unfair since he had called Tony once he realized he was out of his depth.

“Mr. Stark, I swear, I didn’t know how bad it was! And I called you, didn’t I?” Well, Karen called. And not so much once he saw that he was out of his depth so much as he when he started losing time and puking.

“I’m technically 23! I thought it was time to try- “ Tony cut him off.

“No! Functionally, you are 18, you’ve said yourself you don’t remember the Snap so none of that counts! 18 means you get to go to big boy prison and vote.  It does not mean you know jack crap about head injuries!”

Pick your battles, Peter… “Besides, Wade stayed until Karen said you were coming. He wanted to make sure I didn’t die, but I had told him not to stick around for you to get here.”

“You should have called me! First! Thing! Or Dr. Cho! Hell, call Dr. Strange!”

“I’ve been hit in the head loads of times! I thought it was not so bad!”

Tony threw his hands up and turned around in exasperation then rounded on Peter again.

“Not so bad? I’d ask if you were brain damaged, but oh wait “Tony held his finger to his chin in a pantomime of thought “ that’s right YOU ARE!”

“Mr. Stark! C’mon-“

“You didn’t know your ass from your elbow when I got here.” Tony seethed. “You couldn’t form a sentence. Didn’t know who I was! Where we were! By the time we got to the hospital, you were completely non-responsive. It took sawing off part of your skull and scooping the blood out like jello for your healing to get enough of a head start to matter.”

Peter gulped but Tony wasn’t done. “What about May? What about me? Don’t we matter, kid?”

“You’re retired! I thought I could handle it! By the time I knew it was this bad it was too late. I’m sorry!”

“Retired!? Are you kidding? UGH!” Tony wanted to punch a wall but instead, he walked a few paces away and rubbed at this face exhaustedly. When he turned around, he took stock of what he saw. Peter looked a mess with a swollen face, pilfered MIT sweatpants, a worn out 2011 Stark Expo shirt, hospital socks, and a line of staples down his scalp like a Frankenstein monster.

Who let this idiot out into the world unsupervised? Uh-he did, apparently.

“Kid.” Peter looked up from the tile grout he’d been inspecting. “You know that I have a very short list of people who I would move heaven and Earth for.” His voice had dropped to something more like his normal timbre.

With his flesh hand, he began to tick off names.

“Pepper. Morgan. Rhodey. Happy.”

He emphasized each name with another finger leaving his thumb tucked against his palm. His eyes met Peter’s desperate to get him to understand “and you.” His voice dropped to a whisper, wagging the thumb of his now open palm.

He rubbed his hand over his face again in an attempt to force a semblance of calm.

“You made the cut, Pete. And honestly? I don’t know what else I have to do to prove to you that you made the list. You’re right, I am retired. Iron Man is the Earth’s absolute last line of defense, but no matter how old I am or how old you are I am always going to be the first line of defense for Peter Parker. Capisce?”

Peter felt his eyes start to burn. He didn’t know what to say. He was sorry?  He had felt like he was handling it responsibly at the time?

He didn’t trust his voice but swallowed against the ache in his throat to say “Maybe some of the people they were hurting are on someone’s short list too.”

Despite his best efforts, Tony saw right through the rapid blinking and Peter saw his shoulders drop as the last of the fight poured out of him.

Tony was way past the point in his life where he could hold this kid at arm’s length. He crossed the room in three steps to wrap his arms around Peter’s shoulders. Immediately he felt the kid shift to lean his weight against him, trusting him to hold him up while he clutched the back of his mentor’s jacket. He briskly kissed the top of Peter’s head and rested his chin atop the matted curls. Under all the bravado, the kid had scared himself too.

Silence passed between them except for the occasional sniff as Peter tried very hard to not cry. Tony held in a sigh. Pete still didn’t get it, he had nothing to prove to Tony.

“You know I invented time travel. Not to save the universe, mind you, but for your scrawny ass.” He paused “I couldn’t live in a world without you in it. I tried. For five years, I tried, and I couldn’t do it. Not when there was still a chance.”

“That’s a low blow, Mr. Stark” Peter’s voice sounded scratchy and wet but amused.

Tony huffed a laugh. “And I’m never gonna let you forget it.” He smiled and let Peter pull back a bit. He brushed sweaty hair from the kid’s face and winced at the swollen edges of Peter’s normally handsome face. He felt his smile turn sad.

“There are lots of ways for me to lose you faster than you can heal, Underoos.”

“I know ...I’m sorry.”

Tony blew out a frustrated breath. He knew what it was like now. From both sides. Peter was a hero. He was never going to stop trying to save lives. There was never going to be a day where Peter Parker could just sit idly by while the world went to shit.  He also now understood how a woman May’s age could have so many grey hairs and why Pepper blamed Tony for her Xanax prescription.

“You know, every day you remind me that I owe Pepper about a billion apologies.” He shook his head. “The things I put her through.” Peter smiled up at him bashfully.

“Speaking of Pepper,” Tony continued handing Peter the hoodie he’d left on the counter. “I gotta go back upstate. I have a lakeside dinner date with two lovely ladies.”

Peter stood as well “Tell them I say hi, will you?” Tony watched the kid pull a denim jacket on over the hoodie. He was pretty sure it belonged to Harley but Peter probably nicked it the last time he’d been to the lake house. The kid started triple layering as soon as the air turned the slightest bit brisk.

“I can do you one better. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Gee, I don’t know if I can go up there tonight. I have work tomorrow and-“

“Looking like Frankenstein? I don’t think so. How are you going to explain to triple-J how that mess is gone by Wednesday?”

“Frankenstein’s monster.” Peter corrected shoving his laptop into the ratty backpack. “Besides, I don’t want to upset Morgan showing up looking like this.”

Tony shrugged. “She’s a tough cookie. She’ll probably want to play doctor. I should warn you her medical case is fully stocked with holographic Iron Man band-aids.”

Peter laughed “I should be so lucky as to receive such quality medical care.” He shook his head “Sure why not? But I gotta be back to pick May up from the airport Tuesday night.”

“Deal.” He glanced down at Peter’s socks “Ya still need shoes, bud.”

Peter trotted off to the bathroom to grab his shoes and spidey suit. Everything back to normal. As normal as they got anyway.

Tony called after him “Doesn’t Hot May know I owe her a thousand favors for encouraging her nephew to pursue a career in vigilante justice? She literally has access to a private jet.”

Peter shrugged as he did a once over of the apartment to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind.

“I don’t think that’s her style.”

“She could have Happy be her chauffeur,” Tony replied in a sing-song.

“Ughh! Mr. Stark, don’t encourage them! It’s bad enough they like to do date night at our apartment. Where does Happy even live?”

Tony held the door for Peter, laughing, and basked in the light-hearted glare Peter threw over his shoulder.

Once inside the elevator Peter gently brushed his shoulder against his mentor’s. “Thanks for bailing me out, Tony.”

The elder wrapped his arm around his kid’s shoulder. “Any time, Underoos.”

[rickstexaschick]

Rick and Harley: Chapter 8

Here is my next installment of my little backstory about Rick and Harley, and their history before they met Rick’s Texas Chick.  The story is posted on AO3 under rickdicted at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592366/chapters/38884421

”Wh-What the fuck is this?”

“I’m leaving you, Rick.  I’m taking Beth and we’re moving in with my parents.”

There were suitcases stacked by the front door.  Garbage bags filled with Beth’s favorite stuffed animals — which was basically all of them — were sitting on the couch.

“Christ, Diane.  What brought this on?  And where’s Beth now?”

“You think you can just take off with some floozy, Rick?  I saw the two glasses on the coffee table.  You sat here with her in our house, my house, and drank and did who knows what…”

The thought of Harley being ‘some floozy’ made him laugh outright, in spite of himself, in spite of the sudden changes his life was now currently facing.

“Look, Diane.  I-I-I wasn’t with another woman, all right?  I-I-I would never do that to you.  I told you:  I had to go help out a friend.  From th-the army.  He just showed up out if the blue, looking to — for help.  With his business.  I’m gonna go into business with him, help him get it off the ground.”  The lies rolled smoothly off of his tongue.

“And what about us?  You were just going to leave us?  Beth and I?”

“Christ, woman, look at you!  You’ve already got your shit packed, f-f-fuckin’ —-“. His voice had grown to a near-shout as his quick temper flared up.  He caught himself, tried to check his anger and his language.  He looked over into the den.  “Wh-Where’s Bethy?”

“Mom and Dad have her.  I didn’t want her around for this, to hear us.”

They still hadn’t left the front entryway.  Rick ran a shaking hand through his hair.  Tried to focus.  He’d come back, intending to tell Diane that he wanted a divorce and that he was moving out, immediately.  And now that the tables were turned on him, he found himself wanting to fight to keep his family together.  As if to keep Diane from one-upping him.  This was stupid.

Focus, man...

“Look, Diane, our marriage is done.  We both know that.  B-B-But you don’t have to — don’t move out.  This is Bethy’s home.  I’ll move out.  You two stay here.  Th-that’s what I came to tell you, anyway.  We can get a divorce, nice and-and-and easy.  You can have custody, so long as I get to visit… I’ll take care of Beth, make sure she has insurance…”

They stood in the entryway of their home and stared silently at each other.

Just like that, their marriage was over.

*************************************

“Where do want to put this, Rick?”  Harley was standing in the back of his shop, holding a milk crate, heavy with parts and pieces of equipment.

“Over there, I guess…”. Rick turned around in the cramped space.  They were rapidly running out of room.  “I-I-I just… I don’t see how this is going to work, Harley.  Th-Th-There’s just not enough room…. We’re gonna be f-f-fuckin’ on top of each other…”

Rick spied a door with pieces of lumber stacked against it.  “What’s behind that?”

“That goes to some sort of cellar.  I think it was a storm shelter or fallout shelter that her dad built back in the ‘60s.  I haven’t been down there in awhile.  Not since we were married.”

“Well, fuck, man.  Let’s check it out…”  Rick climbed over and around crap to get to the door, then started moving the lumber away, clearing out enough space around it so he could open it.

A steep flight of rickety looking wooden stairs led down into the darkness.  Rick switched on a cobweb-covered light switch at the top of the stairs and a dimly-watted bulb flickered on.  Without hesitation he started down the stairs.  Harley heard the sounds of him stumbling against something heavy followed by a grunt of pain and a muttered curse.

“Hey, man.  You-you got a flashlight?”  His voice drifted up from the darkness.  “I can’t find any other light switches…”

Within a few minutes Harley came down the stairs with a couple of flashlights, and the two explored the cellar.  Thick cobwebs hung from the rafters across the ceiling and everything was coated in an inch-thick layer of dust.  Scurrying sounds told them that the cellar already had inhabitants.  The air had a cellar’s typical damp-musty smell, but there didn’t seem to be any immediate signs of moisture.

Boxes and bags of army-style ready to eat meals and food supplies were stacked against one wall.  Several army cots were folded up and leaned against them. The cellar ran the entire length of the shop, but only the first third by the stairs had painted drywall and linoleum flooring.  The remaining two thirds was plain plywood walls and a cement floor.  A string of lightbulbs ran down the center of the ceiling for the entire length of the cellar.

“Shit!  This is perfect!  I-I-I can just set up my workshop down here…”  Rick turned to Harley,  excited.  “I-I-If that’s ok with you, man.”

“Course it is, what the hell kind of question is that?”

Within a few weeks, Rick and Harley had outfitted the cellar so that it was better suited to Rick’s needs.  They replaced the electrical wiring and added to the existing plumbing, installed a couple of heavy duty aluminum sinks, two long work benches, shelving along one wall, and a chemistry lab hood and exhaust system for venting fumes outside. They replaced some of the steps in the stairs and shored up the entire staircase.  Rick insisted on adding stronger support beams across the entire ceiling.

“So you and your bikes don’t fuckin’ fall down on top of me, man,” he’d told Harley.  

But he confined his workspace to the area which Harley’s father-in-law had already dried in and floored.  The remainder of the cellar was fine as it was for now.  He didn’t need the space just yet.  He was eager to get back to work on his projects.

Two of the cots were shot, the canvas eaten away by mice.  They left the other two down in the cellar, for Rick to sleep on if he needed to stay close by while an experiment was running.  And for Harley to join him, if he wanted to.  The wool blankets had to be burned, along with the two cots, and all the bags and boxes of MRE’s — half of which had been broken into by the mice.

“Th-they say that these never go bad, but….  F-F-fuck, that shit was gross enough to eat when they were somewhat fresh.”

“You were in the army?”  Harley was somewhat surprised.  He’d joined up when he was 18, at Jack’s insistence.

“It’ll help you become a man, son.  If you don’t want to go to college, then do this instead.  Hilly and I and the shop will still be here for you, when you get out.”

And so he’d joined up for four years.  It was tough, having to deal with the regimented lifestyle, always having to follow orders.  He spent his time there learning all he could about mechanics, engines, welding, electrical, even some plumbing and carpentry.  Learned how to repair and build just about anything.  His CO had wanted him to sign on for another four years, make the Army his career.  But after four years, he’d had enough.

Finally, he finished, with “a trade” as they called it, and some maturity, some wisdom.  More level-headed than he was before, less likely to fly off the handle over the little shit, the way his dad had always been.  He’d rejoined Jack at the shop and they built up the business together.  Then he met Diane…

“Y-Y-Yeah.  My college advisor sort of pushed me into it, as a way to get my graduate degree in engineering.  Make the army pay for it, he said.  So I put in my four years, got a Ph.D, then did the ol’ GTFO, as they say.  OTS fucking sucked.  Crawling through muddy ditches, underneath barbed wire fences…”

“Hey, at least you were an officer.  I was never anything more than a fucking grunt.  Sergeant Fucking Sanchez, at your service, sir.”

“Captain Sanchez, to you.”  Rick laughed.

“I guess neither of us got very far with our military careers.  But it paid off, in the long run.  For me, at least.  I know it made Jack happy, that I went.  I think I was gettin’ to be a handful for the old man…”

“My career was better for it, getting my doctorate opened up a lot of doors…”

They sat quietly in the firelight for several minutes.

They were sitting in a couple of old lawn chairs, watching the bonfire and drinking long neck beers out of an ice chest which sat on the ground between them.  They’d tossed a ton of shit from the shop and the cellar out onto the pile, then waited until sundown to douse it with kerosene and light it up.

The flames climbed into the night sky as they passed a joint back and forth, drank beer, and talked.

“Ever notice how similar our lives have been?” Harley asked, after taking a deep drag on the joint before passing it back to Rick.

“What, just because we’ve both been in the Army?”  Rick scoffed.

“Nah, man, not just that.  I mean...we both had fucked up childhoods.  Our dads were assholes…We both ran away from home -- I went to the streets, you went to school, to college.”  He paused, taking a long drag.  “We sort of had foster parents who basically volunteered,  took over raising us…”  He drifted off, staring into the fire.

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”  Rick replied flatly.

“Hell, even our dimensions are similar.”  Harley had ignored him and resumed talking.  “Mine’s 319-D and yours is D-319.”

“So, what’re you sayin’.  That this was all written in the stars?”

“Might’ve been…”

“Ppppffftt.”  Rick took the joint back from Harley, took a big hit off it.  “I don’t believe in coincidences.”  He said it while trying to keep the smoke in his lungs for as long as possible.

They sat there, quietly watching the fire, they’re long legs stretched out in front them, and their beer bottles resting in their crotches.

“My wife...my Diane, she died.”  Harley’s voice was emotionless.

“Yeah, I kind of figured…”. Rick had been curious, but was uncomfortable asking.

“She died in an accident with this asswipe.  Went for a ride with him on his — this fucked up Yamaha crotch rocket that he’d built himself from parts that he got out at scrap yards.  Couldn’t afford to buy a real bike, so he pieced together a bunch of shit…He was so fucking full of himself, ridin’ around on that piece of junk, like he was some kind of goddamn road warrior hero…

“The night she died, we’d been at a bar, about twenty miles away from here, two towns over.  She was gettin’ drunk, being a pain in the ass, flirtin’ with this fucker in front of me just to piss me off.  Finally, I’d had enough of her shit, told her if she wanted to go with him, be my fuckin’ guest.  Told her they weren’t gonna make it five miles down the road on that tricycle before it broke down or they had a blowout, then she’d be sorry.”

“How far’d they get?”  Rick already knew the gist of the ending.

“About seven.  Front wheel came off, bad welding job, front fork snapped completely away from the frame.  Threw him off the bike, went ass over head across the handlebars, landed on the pavement, broke his neck.  Died instantly.  She got caught under the body of the bike, dragged about fifty feet.  Tore the skin off one of her legs, right down to muscle and bone, just like peeling an apple.  They were picking pieces of her flesh up off the road when I came up on the scene — had no idea what had happened, that it was her.  Them.  Until I saw the bike…

“She had a miscarriage in the ambulance on the way to the hospital — I didn’t even know she was pregnant.  Friend of hers told me later, at the funeral, that she was planning to surprise me.  But then a buddy of mine, that chick’s boyfriend, told me that she wasn’t sure who the father was, which one of us.  Me or that asswipe.  That’s why she hadn’t told me about it, yet.  She’d been shittin’ bricks for weeks, not knowin’ what to do.”

“How far along was she?”

Harley took a moment, drained his beer before chunking the bottle into the fire.

“ ‘Bout four months.  It was a little girl.”  Harley reached for the joint, took a long hit.  “She died on the operating table, while they were amputating her leg.”

“Jeez, man.  I’m sorry.”

Harley pulled another beer out of the ice chest, cracked the cap off and flipped it into the fire.

“Ain’t nuthin’ for you to be sorry about.  You didn’t kill her…”

“When was this?”

“Well, let’s see...How old is your Beth?  Three?”

“She just turned three last month.”

“Yeah...So, our Beths would have been the same age.  You do the math.  You’re the engineer…”

The bonfire shifted, sending a huge wave of sparks and embers up into the night sky, swirling up into the air on the currents of the heat and the smoke.  Like a flock of birds, released from a cage.

After some minutes, Rick cleared his throat, spoke again.

“I missed her birthday.  He took them to Disney World.”  Rick hadn’t been “allowed” to see Beth on her birthday.  Diane’s boyfriend had taken them out of town for the entire week, to Florida.

“Yeah, I remember that, that she pulled that on you, with him.  What’s his name?  Greg?”  The name had significance for Harley as well.  It was the name of his Diane’s lover.  The one who drove the crotch rocket and killed them both, along with Harley’s hopes for a family and a future...

“Yeah.  F-F-Fuckin’ Gregory the Great.  St. Fuckin’ Gregory…”  Rick’s voice was bitter with anger and disappointment.

Turned out, Diane had been seeing Greg behind his back for three years.  Fucking bitch.  Her parents had met him long before, thought he hung the moon.  Took care of Beth on all those long weekends that she was supposedly visiting them, but instead had been going off with that fuckwad.  She’d been planning to leave Rick.  She was just working up the courage to do it.  Coming home to an empty house and finding the two used whiskey glasses on the coffee table was all the impetus she needed.

Now, after hearing Harley’s story about his Diane, Rick wondered if his Diane new who Beth’s real father was…   But, no.  Rick reconsidered.  Just spend five minutes with that child and anyone could tell.  She was all him.  All Rick.  In temperament, intelligence… She even had his piercing blue eyes.  Only in her they were still innocent and trusting, full of love and adoration when she looked up at him.

He wondered how long that love and adoration would last.

Last week Diane married Greg, less than a week after their divorce was final, and he immediately moved into their house.  Her house, he reminded himself.  Rick had made good on his promise to give her the house.  It just sucked ass that she’d brought another man in so soon after he’d left.

And just like that, Beth had a new daddy.

It had hurt.  He didn’t want to admit it.  He had been trying his best to keep the marriage going, wondering why she was drifting away from him, emotionally.  Turns out she’d fucking drifted off completely, unmoored herself from their little harbor and headed straight out to sea.  Without a backwards look.

He’d been so concerned about Beth’s welfare and well-being.  Was willing to keep working at that dull, boring firm, just so she’d have health benefits and so he could save for her college.  Then Greg stepped in and took over, took all his hopes for any remaining semblance of a family away from him...

Harley sat in the firelight and silently watched him out of the corner of his eye.  It was going to take Rick awhile to get over it.  Losing his family out of the blue like this.  Harley could relate.  He was patient.

He got up from the lawn chair, started walking towards the house.

“Wh-Where’re you off to?”

“Gotta take a leak.”

“Well, just go, off behind the shop, like I just did…”

“Nah, man.  I’m gonna get something.  Show you something.”

He returned a few minutes later with an acoustic guitar, holding it by its neck.  He sat down, took a healthy swig of beer, then slipped the strap over his head and sat back in the chair.  He strummed experimentally a few times, tuning the guitar.  Then started playing.

He played a classical guitar song, something that sounded Spanish.  The melody was somewhat melancholic, fitting Rick’s mood.  Not too intricate or fast-paced.  Just a gentle song.  The notes seemed to hang over them before drifting up into the night sky to float away with the smoke and embers from the bonfire.

The song ended and the two sat in silence, the crackling of the flames and the calling of the frogs and night insects were the only sounds around them.

Rick cleared his throat, his voice hoarse with emotion.  “Th-Th-That was beautiful, Papi.  Play something else…”

He slid down in the lawn chair, his long legs sprawled out in front him.  He leaned his head back, resting it against the back of the chair, and drank beer and listened while Harley played.  He stared sightlessly at the fire as tears streamed unchecked down his cheeks.