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cyberwolfwrites-fanfiction · 3 years

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a family's bond - chapter one

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/29878746/chapters/73527165)

words: 6630

summary:

"I hate it here," Peter whispered.

"I know," said Harley tiredly. They were curled up on the top bunk of their bunk bed together. They craved genuine physical affection after too many months of being touch-starved or physically hurt—there was no in-between—and being on the top bunk meant that they were harder to reach.

Dan was in his bedroom down the hall snoring off the alcohol. He'd gotten rejected for the promotion he'd been working towards for the past year and he'd drowned his sorrows in a bar somewhere before coming home to take out his frustration on them. He'd been too drunk and uncoordinated to cause any lasting harm—or harm that should have obviously still been there a day later—but the encounter had shaken them, Peter especially.

He'd come from a loving home, but in the matter of minutes both of his remaining family members had bled out in front of him and he'd been tossed in the system. He wasn't used to the harsh cruelties of the world—though he'd gotten a taste of it when he was four and eight, respectively—and it had left him reeling.

"I wish we could just... leave," Peter mumbled.

"Me, too."

Peter's fingers drummed against his desk in boredom as he looked out the window. The skies were clear, as they usually were during late winter in New York, and he boredly watched as a bird jumped across a small tree branch before taking to the skies. His eyes left the bird to linger on the distant skyscrapers of Manhattan. He could just about spot Stark Tower in the distance, and even half-way blocked by other smaller buildings, it still managed to appear tall and imposing.

The Tower had gotten yet another remodel, this time as a result of the Avengers's "civil war" as the media dubbed it half a year ago (though Peter had a feeling it had to do with the incident during Homecoming and Harley agreed with him), and it was once again sporting the Stark name on it instead of the stylized Avengers "A." It now stood as Stark Industries's headquarters, and despite the events that happened the last time he'd visited a major science and tech company, Peter hoped that Mr Harrington somehow scored a field trip there for the Academic Decathlon team.

After all, Mr Harrington had somehow managed to get a field trip to Oscorp, which was only a tier or two below SI.

(If you had asked him two years ago, Peter probably would've said that Oscorp's biochemical engineering and progress on limb regeneration made them equal with Stark Industries’s green energy and neurological prosthesis engineering (though Harley would've disagreed since he was the more techy type of the two), but he kind of changed his mind after the whole got-bit-by-a-spider-and-nearly-died episode. And even though he and Harley became Spider-Man out of it, he was a little bitter. That and the whole Green Goblin fiasco a month or so ago. He and Harley both got pretty hurt in that one…)

The back of Peter's neck buzzed slightly and he caught a glimpse of Harley tossing a small crumbled ball at him. Peter looked up at his foster brother, who nodded subtly in Mrs Warren's direction. As teachers often did, she was looking around to make sure that everyone was doing their classwork. Just as Mrs Warren turned in his and Harley's direction, Peter picked up his pencil and filled in a question on his worksheet. There was a slight prickling on the back of his neck, telling him that Mrs Warren was looking at him, but it faded swiftly after she looked away.

The worksheet was on something that Peter had more than enough knowledge on—pendulums—due to his "job" as Spider-Man. He was out there six times a week (three days a week as well as three nights) and he often did pendulum swings for fun. The worksheet was boring, but Peter continued to fill it in because he knew that Mrs Warren would comment on it otherwise. He, along with Harley, had skipped more than a few classes when they first started out as Spider-Man, and not to mention simply not paying attention in class, and that had led to some trust issues and disappointment amongst their teachers.

After a few more minutes—and a completed worksheet which led to Peter staring at the skyline again—Harley nudged Peter's foot again. When he looked over, Harley tapped on his old watch and Peter glanced up at the clock, letting out a sigh of relief. There were only a few more minutes left of class.

Harley, easily spotting his relief, quirked his lips up in a slight smirk. Peter rolled his eyes. He was bored and wanted to get out of school already, so what? It wasn't as if Harley wasn't itching to get out, as well. He knew as well as anyone that his foster brother would rather be outside (even in the cold) than sitting in a classroom. It was too bad that they weren't even halfway through the school day. Peter had Spanish next class—which wouldn't be too difficult as Aunt May had taught him Italian and Spanish wasn't too far off from it—and then lunch, but there were four more classes after that before school got out for the day.

A minute before class was due to end, Mrs Warren gathered everyone's attention. "Bell's going to ring everyone so whatever you didn't finish is due on Monday," she informed them all. Peter huffed a breath of amusement as more than a few people let out relieved sighs. He knew that this was AP Physics and all, but this stuff was easy.

Though they knew it was coming, both Peter and Harley cringed when the bell rang loudly with a nasally buzzing sound. Where the bell had been an annoyance before his spider bite, it was now almost painful. Their senses were dialled up to eleven and they often got sensory overloads, which they had to work through since they couldn't miss any school, and the bell was one of the highest annoyances there were.

As he started to put away his stuff to leave, Mrs Warren called out, "Peter, Harley, can you two hang back for a few moments?"

Peter hunched in slightly on himself as Flash sniggered on his way out the door. He couldn't help the way his hands trembled slightly. Were he and Harley in trouble? The last time they skipped had been a few weeks ago, they were careful about that now, so she couldn't be worried about their attendances, could she? And they've been on top of their homework ever since they got their patrols levelled out. Where Peter patrolled during the day, Harley patrolled during the night, giving them both ample time to do their homework.

"Yeah, sure," Harley answered Mrs Warren for them both, his southern accent completely gone. Harley had been in the city since he was twelve, he was sixteen now, and he'd had enough time to completely smother any bit of southern drawl he'd had. He'd been bullied for it, Harley had told Peter when he first caught Harley slipping, and so he did his best to hide it.

Doing his best to calm his nerves, Peter shoved his Physics binder into his beaten backpack. He'd lost his older one during patrol and Ned had been kind enough to lend him an old one of his. Peter had gotten into trouble after that since all of his homework, including an English essay, had been in it. There was no reason to be nervous, Peter tried to tell himself. It was just Mrs Warren! She was a good teacher, a fun one, and she was kind enough to not call on him often, not forcing him to speak.

Peter rarely ever spoke freely much these days since his aunt and uncle's murder and the trauma he experienced in foster care, the only people he truly spoke to being Harley or Ned, and sometimes a word here or there for MJ (they were mostly apologies for stupid things). He tended to stay quiet unless he was talking to Harley alone or if he was on patrol; the rest of the time he didn't talk.

It was a common coping mechanism for him, and it wasn't new.

When his parents had died when he was four, Peter had stopped talking. It had taken some (read: a lot) coaxing from May, Ben, and his therapist, and some dance classes, to get him to start speaking again. It had happened again when he was around eight when Skip had—when he'd had Skip as a babysitter and he—well, when Skip was his babysitter. Ned, who'd he'd befriended at the time because he didn't bully him and didn't force him to talk, had been the one to get him to talk that time.

He'd slipped back into the habit when May and Ben died two years ago. His foster homes hadn't cared—in fact, they loved not having a mouthy kid—but some of his teachers hadn't been that accepting. They'd given him some leeway due to his twice-over-orphan-ness, but he'd still needed to do presentations and answer questions. He'd tried but most of the time he just couldn't force the words out. The words got stuck in his throat. It wasn't until he'd met Harley the summer before freshman year did he manage to work up the courage to speak. He still didn't talk that much in public, and he didn't speak much at home, but Harley had managed to break down his walls to the point where he could speak to teachers if needed.

(There was also Spider-Man, but when he was Spider-Man he wasn't Peter, the nerdy orphan, he was a bad-ass crime-fighting hero, and a chatterbox. Spider-Man talked where Peter didn't. That's how it worked and he was comfortable with that.)

Taking a breath to calm himself, and reminding himself that Harley wouldn't leave him, Peter stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Everyone was out of the classroom at this point beside him, Harley, and Mrs Warren, and Peter knew that it was Mrs Warren's break so no one should be coming in for anything. It both relieved him—because if he and Harley had done something wrong and were getting in trouble, then no one would be there to see the epic scolding they were about to get, Peter knew that personally—and worried him—because if they weren't in trouble, then what did Mrs Warren need to talk to them about, and in private, too?

"Are we in trouble?" Harley asked in his usual quiet voice. Mrs Warren looked up with a kind smile that had Peter relaxing marginally.

"No boys, you're not in trouble this time," she said. "I actually wanted to ask for your opinion on something." Peter's brow furrowed and he exchanged a puzzled look with Harley. Mrs Warren pulled open a drawer in her desk and she pulled out a packet of some kind, handing it to Peter who was the closest of the two. He glanced down at it with Harley peering over his shoulder—the jerk had the gall to be taller than him—and blinked stupidly at the logo on the top left of the page.

"Stark Industries?" Harley blurted as Peter stared at the packet in surprise.

Mrs Warren was beaming at them. "Yes," she said. "Stark Industries is holding a competition at their company as a sort of entrance exam for high school interns. Every STEM school in the area received five forms each to pick for a student and I was wondering if you two were interested? You're both very intelligent, and despite the troubles you've had recently," Peter was chagrined at the mention of their recent dip in attendance and their grades, especially paired with Mrs Warren's stern look, "I believe you two have the chance to win the competition together."

"Wait, two?" Harley said, "as in both of us, and together? Is that even allowed? And ma'am, there's only one packet here and you said only five students per school were chosen."

Mrs Warren's answer was to pull out another packet from her desk. "Yes, both of you, Mr Keener. Two people are allowed to team up, and despite the poor attendance and the missing assignments both of you had a few months ago, you both made up the work and you're grades and GPA are some of the highest of your year. And I know for a fact that you two are capable of the work Stark Industries is looking for. I've spoken with your STEM teachers and you two are bored in class. And Mr Hapgood went as far as to show me the projects you two are working on in shop class. Your projects are very intuitive and creative, even your potato gun, Harley."

Peter felt a blush creep up his ears at the praise, it'd been a while since anyone had genuinely complimented him, and Harley grinned sheepishly.

"Thanks, Mrs Warren," Harley said. Peter nodded to show that he felt the same and he ducked his head at Mrs Warren's amused grin.

Peter flipped through his own packet, eyes skimming the information on the contest, before he looked at the last page with the permission form on it. His lips turned down slightly at the edges. They needed a parent's or guardian's permission to enter the competition and Peter wasn't sure if their faster father, Dan, would allow them to participate. They already had to beg him to continue Academic Decathlon a few months ago, and he'd forced them to quit their other extracurriculars (band and robotics club for Peter and the soccer team and robotics for Harley) because of their absences and the steep drop in grades got him in trouble with their social workers. And even if Dan allowed them to participate, there was no way that they would be able to afford materials to even create something of their own.

Harley must've been thinking the same thing because he asked, "Do we have to buy the materials ourselves?"

Mrs Warren, who knew their home situations and that they couldn't afford brand new, expensive materials like the rest of their classmates, nodded sympathetically. "I'm afraid that the school won't be able to provide either of you with materials because then the school would have to be able to provide every student participating with materials, and the school doesn't have enough funds to cover everyone's projects and provide the materials used in our tech classes. However, students will be allowed to use the workshop's tools and anything bought in bulk—like wiring or screws, for example—and the computer labs for coding."

That was better than nothing, Peter thought. Harley's lips thinned, Peter was sure he was thinking on the glass half empty side rather than the glass half full, and he nodded.

"Now, you two don't have to say yes right away," said Mrs Warren. "Take some time, talk amongst yourselves, talk with your foster parents, figure things out. The competition is in a little more than a month—not long, I know, but a part of SI's competition is making a fully working project in a limited space of time—but knowing you two, you should have enough time to whip something up. I do need an answer by the end of next week, though, okay?" They both nodded. "Good, now let me get you two some passes so you can get to class."

Mrs Warren swiftly filled out some hall passes for them and they were on their way.

Peter and Harley walked slowly down the hall, both preoccupied with their own thoughts. Peter flipped back to the front of the packed he'd been given and he read the information a little slower. Just like Mrs Warren said, the competition was for high school students at STEM schools, and that specialists and other people at SI would more or less be grading their project—their idea, presentation, and how well executed the idea was—for a chance to become an intern at the company. There was also a bit about how SI would sponsor and-or donate to the schools where the interns were chosen from, which was intimidating to think about because that meant that Mrs Warren thought they were worth representing the whole of Midtown to Stark Industries for future interns to be chosen from. He swiftly shelved that thought and read the rest of the paper. Oh! The internship was paid, too. That was nice and would help a lot. Still, he came back to the same thought earlier.

"Do you think Dan will let us compete?" he murmured. He didn't bother speaking at a normal level; Harley had the same enhanced senses he had, which meant that he'd be able to hear him whisper from all the way across the school.

Harley frowned at his own packet. "I honestly don't know," he said. "Dan hasn't been stressed lately and we've been careful to keep our grades up so he hasn't gotten any more worrying calls from the social workers. I'm more worried about the fact that we won't be able to buy anything brand new. I know we've got some money saved up from helping around the neighbourhood and our part-time jobs, but we're saving that for stuff we need like extra food and first aid supplies."

"Dumpster diving, then?" Peter suggested quietly. "Not like we haven't done it before."

Harley snorted. Almost everything they owned (or created) was thrifted or pulled from dumpsters. Their laptops, their phones, an old tablet that they'd neglected because they've been so busy making up work and doing homework and patrolling, and even some clothes. Even their webshooters were made from stuff out of dumpsters, their wires coming from broken DVD players and various other parts coming from lighters and other trash that they'd found.

"Look at the schools competing," Harley pointed out, gesturing to a section on the form. "These are all schools, most of them being private schools, where a lot of rich kids go to. Hell, this is a school for rich kids and the only reason we got in was because of that entrance exam we took and they made a special case because we both got the highest grades and we're orphans. Everyone competing will have the money for expensive parts and we'll be entering with literal trash."

"Doesn't matter anyway," Peter muttered, shoulders slumping. "Not like Dan'll let us compete."

Harley whirled around in front of him, stopping him in place by clasping both hands on his shoulders. Instead of flinching away from the movement, Peter leaned into the steady hands of his foster brother. He and Harley had been together for a year and a half, they'd been in similar shitty situations, and they felt like they were brothers in all but name and blood.

"Chin up, Parker," Harley said reassuringly, tipping Peter's head up with a slight nudge to his chin. "We've been good little boys and Dan doesn't have to know that materials won't be provided. Quindi smettila di preoccuparti, capisci?"

Peter smiled slightly at the casual use of Italian. He'd grown up speaking it with Aunt May and it was a way to remind him of her. Harley had overheard him speaking to himself in it while doing homework not long after they met and he had all but demanded that Peter teach him it. Peter, after a little prodding, had agreed to do so. He surprisingly loved teaching Harley how to speak his aunt's native tongue; there wasn't much to do in a small apartment and pointing out the names of everyday things to Harley got his mind off of things. Harley had slowly but surely picked up the language, probably out of boredom and daily use, and he often spoke to Peter in it. He wasn't completely fluent in it yet, especially since Peter's lessons faded when their workload picked up, but he'd no doubt realized that Peter calmed when he heard the language.

"Si, I understand," Peter murmured. Harley clapped him on the shoulder before steering Peter in the direction of his next class and Peter said, "Ci vediamo a pranzo con Ned e MJ."

It only took a second or two for Harley to translate and he smiled. "Yeah, see you at lunch," he confirmed. He saluted Peter before spinning on his heel and heading back down the hall to his class.

Just as Harley rounded the corner, someone from behind him said, "Señor Parker, as much as I admire your ability to speak Italian, this is Spanish and you're late." Peter jumped slightly and spun to face his Spanish teacher.

"Lo siento, Señor," Peter apologised quietly, easily switching from Italian and English to Spanish. "I got held up in Physics."

Señor Mendez merely raised a brow, took his hall pass, and waved him to his seat. With his enhanced hearing, Peter could hear Harley snickering to himself at Señor Mendez's comment.

***

"You're so mean," Peter huffed as he plopped down next to Harley, his lunch tray clattering against the table. Harley merely smirked at him, easily knowing what he was talking about.

"What'd he do?" Ned asked.

"He got caught speaking Italian with me in the halls when he was supposed to be in Spanish," Harley told him.

"You two didn't try to skip again, did you?" MJ said from a few seats away from them, looking up from her book, which was on the Black Dahlia murder. Harley scoffed in offence.

"No," he huffed. "We got held back in Physics. Mrs Warren wanted to talk to us about something."

"What for? You guys didn't get in trouble, did you?" Ned said in worry. He didn't know that they were Spider-Man but he was aware that they got in trouble a few months ago for skipping school a lot and not turning in any assigned homework. He hadn't been able to wiggle any information out of Peter, who he'd known longer than Harley, and Harley was better at keeping secrets or lying, not that Peter wasn't getting up there in skill.

Harley fished through his backpack for the permission form, slapping it on the lunch table for Ned and MJ to read. Ned gasped. "You're getting an internship at Stark Industries!?" he squealed, causing a few heads to turn their way.

Peter shushed Ned loudly. "No! It's a competition for an internship," he said, tapping the title of the document, which read Stark Industries Internship Competition.

"Oh…"

MJ just rolled her eyes at them, refocusing on her book.

"Basically," Harley began to explain, putting his form back in his bag, "a bunch of these STEM schools were given five forms each to give to five students to compete. We each have to make a project to present to the 'esteemed heads' and specialists at Stark Industries. They'll be grading how it works and stuff and they'll decide who gets an internship."

"That's so cool! What about Peter?" Ned asked, turning to glance at Peter. "Did he get a form, too?"

"Mine's in my bag," Peter said after swallowing a bite of his food. Ned grinned widely at them.

"Out of five of the forms, both of you got one? OMG, guys, that's so cool!" Ned was loud again but Peter didn't bother shushing him this time, despite the attention on them. He was grinning at Ned, who'd been one of his best friends for years, because his friend was so excited for them. In fact, Ned was all genuine. He didn't even look remotely jealous or upset that they'd been chosen over him.

"You're not upset?" Peter asked suddenly, voice quiet. "That you didn't get one?"

"Well, I'm jealous, yeah. I mean, both of you guys are going to be interns at Stark Industries!" He ignored Harley's correction that they were going to get the chance to be interns at Stark Industries, that they weren't already interns. "Like you get to work with some of the best minds and you might even get to see Tony Stark! Iron Man! How could I not be jealous?"

"But you're not… mad?" Peter was nervous. He didn't want Ned to be mad at him for getting picked over for a chance at winning an internship at Stark Industries. Ned was super smart and he'd idolized Tony Stark just as much as he did, though Peter had to admit that Ned idolized the Avengers, the superheroes, more than Tony Stark and his company itself.

"No! You've always been better at that stuff than me, you know that. All I do is code and make robots. Stark Industries makes, like, medical equipment and stuff. And dudes, when you start your internship, tell me all about it! I want to live vicariously through you."

Harley chuckled. "Ned, we don't even have an idea yet."

"Well, what about a drone?" Ned suggested. "Even though Stark Industries doesn't sell the military weapons anymore, they still provide them and the police with other types of tech. You could make a small drone for search and rescue missions?"

"It would have to have some extra stuff on it," Harley mused. "SI is already working on drones. What about something with a thermal camera or some type of scanner? The military could use drones to search for landmines, couldn't they?"

"If I was you guys, I'd be tempted to make R2D2," said Ned.

Peter smiled slightly at the idea of making something from Star Wars. His mind whirled with different types of things they could build for the competition before an old idea flickered through his mind. He rifled through his backpack and pulled out two notebooks, a new one he'd gotten recently and one that was for ideas like his webshooters or robots rather than schoolwork. He hadn't been able to come up with any ideas during Spanish, he'd been too worried about the fact that Dan might not even let them complete, but Ned and Harley had sparked an old idea he'd had. He flipped through the pages, looking for the idea that he'd come up with a few months ago when he and Harley first became Spider-Man and one of them got really injured without the other knowing.

Ned and Harley had stopped talking when he'd pulled out his notebook and began flipping through it. Without bothering to tell his friend and foster brother what he was doing, Peter began to scribble in his notebook, occasionally glancing over his old notes to make sure he was writing down the correct information.

Harley leaned over to read the scribbles as Peter began to jot down ideas and a few chemical compounds. It didn't take Harley long to make sense of his notes.

“A pressure sensor?” he asked.

Peter nodded, and after glancing at Ned—who was watching him idly, used to his idea frenzies—and MJ who was ignoring them—said, “I came up with the idea a while ago. It's a sensor to detect injuries based on different pressure ratios. It could be used in clothes or something. Could also probably send the information remotely with a program, maybe."

Harley blinked in surprise, easily realizing that he was thinking of a Spider-Man suit that could detect what injuries they had, as well as tell the other what injuries they gained. Peter knew it was something that Harley would like, because while Harley didn't hide injuries from Peter, Peter didn’t want to worry Harley and so he hid when he was hurt. It usually backfired on him, though, since Harley could see through him easily, but Peter still tried to hide his injuries. But with a suit that could detect injuries and also transmit them remotely? Harley wouldn't even have to try and get Peter to tell him he was hurt, he would know immediately.

“I like this idea,” Harley declared, making Peter snort. Harley pulled Peter's notes over to him and read them over. “Would something like this work, though?”

"The sensors are easy to make," Peter murmured, "and we have that old tablet and free run of the computer labs. We're both pretty good at coding, so that would work."

“We can’t just show up at a competition with a multimeter if sensors are this easy to make,” said Harley with a frown. His eyes flicked over Peter's notes before lingering on a chemical compound he wrote down. "What's this?"

Peter tapped a section of notes, specifically the word Cloth??? that was circled, and made a hand motion—it was the one they used for shooting webs, though to anyone else it would look like he was signing "I love you" with his hand down. Harley's lips formed an O.

"You're going to try and make cloth out of them?" Harley asked, making Peter nod. "Make sure they don't dissolve then." Peter winced at the thought of their project dissolving mid-presentation and made a note to add a stabilizer to the mixture. He would have to end up testing various amounts of stabilizer, along with different amounts of chemicals, to make sure that the cloth would hold up.

The rest of the school day was spent with Peter and Harley swapping notes on what they wanted to do for the project in their shared classes or when they passed in the halls. Harley was already working on the coding for the app and ideas on how to fix the tablet they had. They would probably have to go dumpster diving or go to pawn shops for parts, though. Peter was scribbling down various chemical compounds as they came to mind, all of them based around his web formula. He would have to find a way to get the chemicals; half of them weren't cheap or available on their own and he didn't feel comfortable stealing that much from the school. He had a make-shift chemistry lab in an abandoned building where he and Harley had originally practised Spider-Manning (and still did, sparring was fun), but he would have to still buy various cleaners to separate some of the chemicals needed.

As it was Friday, Dan got home from work early, so Peter and Harley didn't have any time to set up their makeshift lab. They'd stashed a lot of their Spider-Man stuff there, along with a lot of the electronics and tools they had gotten from thrift stores or dumpster diving. There was no room in Dan's apartment to store anything—and the man didn't want any of their junk lying around—and they had no access to the roof unless they wanted to use their spider-powers, which they both agreed was a dumb idea to use in broad daylight. Due to Dan getting off work early, Peter and Harley also couldn't patrol during the day, so they ended up doing their homework, discussing their ideas a little, and doing chores.

Out of all of their chores, Peter disliked cooking the most. Cooking reminded him too much of May and Ben; Ben had been the chef of the house, and he'd taught Peter how to cook, and May had been a terrible cook. She'd often burn the noodles she tried to boil for her mother's Carbonara. But it had been endearing and something he loved about her. However, as Harley didn't know how to cook anything past PB&J (Peter was slowly teaching him when they had free time before Dan got home), he had to make the dinner tonight.

He didn't bemoan this chore, it beat cleaning the bathroom, and he instead made the best damn spaghetti he'd made in a while to butter Dan up. While Peter was nervous about telling Dan about the competition, Harley had argued that it was best to tell Dan about it tonight. The man should be in a decent mood—because he was never in a good mood—since he had work off tomorrow.

They were just finishing cleaning up and setting the table when they heard Dan walking down the hall. He wasn't a very quiet walker, instead his steps were loud and echoed in the apartment, and the sound of them instinctively had Peter's heart speeding up. Dan was an average man—he was five-ten, probably weighed around a hundred and sixty pounds, and he had dirty-blonde hair and boring brown eyes—and there was theoretically nothing intimidating or threatening about him.

But, there was this thing about Dan—he wasn't nice.

Oh, he could play nice for the neighbours or for their social workers, but he certainly wasn't nice to them. They'd live with Dan long enough (a year and a half), that they'd experienced almost every single emotion that the man could express. And most of that was hate or anger. And violence. Violence towards them.

Peter could remember numerous times where a beating had started with loud, thumping footsteps.

"Calmati," murmured Harley under his breath, taking the wet pot that Peter was rinsing off before he'd frozen. Peter let out a slightly shaky breath before taking in some slow calming ones. The doorknob rattled before twisting open, revealing Dan. Peter's eyes followed Dan as he moved throughout the apartment, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie, hanging up his coat on the coat rack.

Peter took his eyes off Dan and put away the pots and pans he'd used, keeping tabs on the man with his ears. Dan came out of his room after a few minutes and stood near the table.

"What's for dinner?" he said gruffly, sitting in his usual seat.

"Spaghetti and garlic bread, sir," Harley answered politely, his voice quiet. Dan liked the quiet and so dinner was the only time to talk to him. He tended to work a lot of overtime, probably in hopes of getting a promotion at work, and so he was often tired when he got home. Peter and Harley had to be quiet when moving around for school and after dinner, since that was the only time Dan got to relax; it was that or aggravate Dan, which led to getting punished. They'd only made that mistake a few times.

"Smells good," said Dan grudgingly, plating himself some.

"Thank you," Peter thanked him. Usually, he wouldn't talk at all during dinner, but he figured being polite should give him some points. Dan just grunted. When plating their own food, Peter and Harley made sure not to give themselves too much. Their metabolisms ran much higher than they'd done before, meaning that they had to eat more to stay healthy, but if they started to eat more than expected, then Dan would get suspicious and-or grouchy that they were "eating him out of his house." Both of them had lived with foster parents who didn't want to waste money feeding them much and so they took what they could get without complaining. They used their spare money to buy protein bars and those kept them full-enough.

Dinner was quiet for the most part. The only sounds were the sounds of them eating, their forks scraping across their plates, and the downstairs neighbours fighting like they usually did. They were a few floors down so Dan couldn't hear them, but Peter and Harley could. Peter couldn't tell if the relationship was abused, though, since they went from screaming at each other to acting lovey-dovey within hours.

When Dan was sharing signs of finishing his dinner, Peter and Harley shared a swift glance.

"Sir?" Harley said, setting down his fork. Peter did the same and brought his hands to his lap, fiddling with his hoodie sleeves nervously. He watched from beneath his lashes as Dan looked at Harley and grunted, which Harley took that as permission to speak. "Our Physics teacher held us back in class today and—"

"You didn't skip or anything did you?" Dan said harshly with narrowed eyes. "You remember what I said would happen if you got in trouble again, right?"

"Yes, I remember, but we didn't do anything wrong!" Harley rushed to say. "In fact, our teacher actually held us back to tell us that our grades are so good that we've got an internship opportunity."

"An internship," Dan deadpanned, setting down his fork and giving them his attention. Peter wasn't sure if having Dan's full attention on them was good or not. He hoped "good."

"Yes, sir," Harley said, bobbing his head. "The top STEM schools in New York were given permission slips for a competition at Stark Industries. The competition takes place next month and depending on what you make and what the specialists at the company say, you could end up with an internship. Sir."

"It's a competition?" Dan said with a frown. "Not an actual internship? And you two want to compete?" Peter kept his expression neutral when Dan sent a glance his way, but his fingers tightened around his sleeves.

"S-Sir," Peter jumped in to help Harley. "E-Each school was only given five forms. Since Stark Industries will sponsor the schools who they choose the interns from, the schools will pick only the, um, best students?" Peter winced slightly at his wording but continued speaking despite the slight shaking of his voice. "S-Sir, Harley and I both got forms. W-We're some of the best students in our grade, w-we wouldn't have been chosen to represent Midtown if we, uh, weren't capable?"

Dan's lips thinned as he thought. "What… is this competition, exactly?"

"Each student is supposed to create and make a prototype of working tech, sir," said Harley, taking Dan's attention of Peter. "It's the same type of thing we're doing in shop class so it wouldn't be too difficult. The school is allowing us to use their computer labs and materials after school—" There was no need to tell him what those materials were, exactly. "—and we'd still be able to do our chores and homework. We'd just have to stay at school for an extra hour or two to work on our project in order to get it done for the competition."

"When is the competition?"

"In a month, sir. Transportation to Stark Industries is provided." That was a lie but there was no reason to tell Dan that they had the extra money to pay for a sub across the city. Or the fact that their project would be small enough that they could just swing to the Tower if they needed to.

"Both of you are competing?"

"Yes, but we're allowed to work on the same project and enter it together," Harley clarified.

"And this internship, how many hours after school would you be gone? I can't have your grades dropping and making me look bad."

"Only a few hours a week, I think," Harley said. "We could probably ask, but I don't think the workload would be too much since we're only high school students and they know we go to demanding STEM schools."

Dan was silent for a few moments. Peter resisted the urge to fidget, instead choosing to dig his nails into his arm to distract him. Below him, Mr and Mrs Fights-A-Lot were getting into another row that Peter was sure would either end up in one of them storming out to the bar or in hot, passionate, cringe-inducing sex. He'd rather it be the former rather than the latter since there was only so much sex sounds that he could listen to without it making him want to curl up in a ball, vomit, or both. He just hoped that he was asleep before it happened, if it happened.

Dan let out a gusty sigh, making Peter jump. "Well?" he demanded. "Are there permission forms or something?"

"Oh, uh, I-I'll go get them, sir," Peter stammered out, stumbling to his feet. He ran into the edge of the table in his haste to get out of the room and tensed in preparation for a reprimand that never happened. Peter and Harley had put their forms on their shared desk just in case Dan allowed them to compete, so he was back in the kitchen not twenty seconds after he'd left. He also provided a pen and Dan signed off on both forms with a glance to make sure what he was signing was actually a form for an internship and not something else.

Not long after, Peter and Harley cleaned the dirty dishes before being dismissed to their room for the night.

Peter laid up in the top bunk of the bunk bed, staring up at the watermarked ceiling, his through whirling loudly through his mind. He couldn't believe that Dan was actually allowing them to compete. Now all they had to do was actually make their project and they only had a month to do it! What if it wasn't good enough? What if it wasn't original? What if someone made a better working one? What if it didn't work?

And, what if they won?

#spiderman #spider man #peter parker #tony stark #iron man #mcu fic #harley keener #irondad #spider son #harley keener is spider man #peter parker is spider man #foster care #foster au #angst #whump #skip westcott

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skeletonwoman · 7 years

Text

AU #1: Hear Me (15)

can you beleive it?? fifteen parts. and i can feel the ending soon, but i literally don’t know what its going to end like. Probably gonna be hella anticlimactic so look the hell out mayb ;;;)))))))

Hear Me Masterlist

I know I’m supposed to be the angel, but I’ve never felt anything so pure as when I’m with her.

“Isn’t it crazy?” Warren mumbles, his body curved around you and you hum softly, barely looking up from the page you’re reading. “There was a chance I wouldn’t like you. You could’ve come into my life in a slightly different way and I could’ve hated you. And yet I’m totally in love with you, and you’re totally in love with me.”

“Jurys still out, babe.” You drawl, flipping the papers and eyeing the back side, the diagram jumping out at you. Warren elbows you gently, growling softly in your ear and you can’t help shivering, a nearly unwilling smiling turning up your lips.

“Now that’s just mean, admit it.” He demands softly and you groan a long sound, arching your back so you can meet his eyes and he smirks at you. You feel his thighs tighten on your hips, the rustling of the leaves above as the wind whistles by and the crisp papers flapping in your fingers.

“Mmm,” You half moan, caught up in the sounds and sights around you, and the warm comfort of having Warren right there, his body surrounding and holding yours. “I love how I feel right now.”

“But not me? Cause I can leave…” He threatens playfully, jostling you and you squeak, pushing back into him and he grunts as he falls back against the tree once more. “So that’s how it is?”

“Truly.” You beam, turning in the circle of his legs and kneeling before him. “You’re just a crutch for me, a sexy, gorgeous, sweet, warm, smart, loving crutch.”

His cheeks flush lightly and his wings rise behind him, brushing against the tree and pulling forward slightly. You shuffle closer, biting your lip as your eyes dart over his expression, trying to take in every minute detail.

His breath stutters lightly, and you can’t help grinning a stupid smile, the embarrassingly in love kind, yet you don’t have it in you to be embarrassed.

“I love you.” You promise, the words a whisper but he leans forward all the same with a dark look in his eyes. Capturing your lips with his, his palm slides around the back of your neck while his other hand gently pulls you forward until you’re pressed against and awkwardly leant over him.

“Woah, I thought this was a school, guess I’m wrong!” Scott laughs, the sound of many footsteps over the grass following along and you groan against Warrens lips. Pulling back, your palm still pressed to the tree trunk and Warrens hands still on your body, you smile at the approaching group.

“I know we sort of made friends, but since when has that entailed sitting with us?” You ask Scott, playful sarcasm in your voice and he sighs loudly, sounding very superior.

“It never has or ever will, but Jean said you’re looking at your latest results and some of us, not me, decided they cared and I was outvoted.” Scott mutters bitterly, his lips quirked in a way that contradicts the words.

“Well, hell.” You sigh, glancing down at Warren, who smiles up at you with a teasing twinkle in his eye. Giving him a warning look, you settle yourself back against his chest and retrieve the papers from under your knee.

“So?” Jeans asks suddenly, worry in her voice and you try not to pause and stare. It’s strange, the way friendships work, like how you never considered that this group would really care that much.

And yet here Jean, the girl you’ve had the least contact with and as far as you know, the least in common with, is leaning forward with an earnest expression of worry.

“My mutation is finished.” You start and Kurt nods slowly, a serious expression on his face and you try not to giggle in an awkwardly high pitch. “And my hearing… If I’m not with Warren, physically touching him sometimes, I’m at least seventy percent deaf. Hank… Tested the percentage. Supposedly that’s a thing.”

You grimace at your knees and Warrens palms smooth over your waist and around your belly until he’s hugging you. You relax at the feeling and close your eyes.

“It… He can’t find anything, I’m a healthy mutant. So on Monday I’m going to test out that serum he made.” You finish, blinking hard at the leaves above before returning your clear eyed gaze to the group before you. Scott stares at the grass under his knee and Ororo’s expression is furious as she glares into the distance. “It’s nothing, guys. It’s going to be fine. This serum thing will work and I’ll use it when I need to and I’ll be fine.”

Your words sound hollow and you try not to cringe visibly. Warren snickers softly into your hair and you elbow him, trying not to laugh as he stiffens.

“You’re deaf?” Scott says softly and you shrug weakly. “Y/N.”

“Yeah.” You croak and he sighs, nodding for a long time before he meets your eyes again.

“Let us know if we can help.” He says and you barely have time to nod before he’s climbing to his feet and walking off, hands in his pockets. Jean scrambles to her feet, apologising to you before jogging to his side. You try not to laugh as you watch them walk away, her movements like she’s reprimanding him.

“We’ll leave you two alone… But when you’re ready, we have questions.” Ororo reassures you, climbing to her feet and gently kicking both Peter and Kurt, who’re by her side in an instant and the three of them wander off toward the school.

“I hate it when people ruin the mood then leave three seconds later.” Warren remarks and you flop your head back until it rests on his shoulder, your face turning till your forehead brushes his neck.

“I love it when people ruin the mood then leave. It makes you all grumpy and bitter. It’s a nice change.” You tease and he scoffs, his shoulder bumping you forward and you lean away from him, meeting his glare over your shoulder. “Can’t take it, Worthington?”

“I can take it, but not as well as you.” He leers and you dissolve into scoffing and blushing, whacking his chest with the back of your palm.

“You’re gross.”

“Sexy gross.”

“That’s not a thing.” You counter, even as you privately agree. He is sexy gross. Like a dirty biker or a billionaire with an extra leg, yet all of them are peg legs.

He grins at you, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking- hell, he probably does, and you turn away, looking across the lawn at the group of kids playing soccer.

“I’m really helpless now.” You whisper and he laughs softly, leaning forward and tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You’re not helpless. I’ll always be there to help, even if it’s from far away.” He promises softly, pressing a sweet kiss just below your ear. “And it’s not just me. Ororo, Jean, Peter, Kurt, Jubilee and Scott. They’d all come running if you needed them.”

“I’m a burden to them.”

“You’re not a burden to me?” He scoffs, gently bumping you but your gaze doesn’t stray. “That’s a bit presumptuous.”

“We’re soulmates.” You counter blandly, your head feeling heavy and tired.

“Doesn’t mean I’m automatically immune.”

“We have only known each other a couple weeks.” You agree softly and he stills, his hand unyielding as he guides you to face him. You blink when you spot the serious expression on his face, shadows flitting around his eyes.

“Do you want to get married?” He asks and you startle, blinking at him again before hesitatingly shaking your head. “Never? Because I’d marry you right now if it meant you’d stop thinking so terribly of yourself. I’m here for you and… Yeah, just you.”

He frowns, seeming to think the words over before nodding, the serious expression returning. “And don’t think for a second that’s just because we’re soulmates. It’s because you’re there for me, because when you showed up I thought I had a chance to finally be a hero, finally save someone instead of hurting them.” Your lips part and he gives you a stern look.

“I know, and when you didn’t need saving and I realized I was the one that needed saving… It sucked- really sucked. Don’t take this the wrong way, but your hearing loss made me feel better- Uh, yeah, no, I can see you’re taking this the wrong way.”

“Screw you.” You snap, shoving backwards from him and wobbling to your feet. Warren groans, his lips parting around words but you can’t hear over the rushing in your ears. “Leave me alone.”

You watch Warren shudder, his body twitching even as he stills. Pain fills his eyes as he turns, stalking in the direction Scott had gone, looking over his shoulder over and over again. A big breath exits you, exhaustion filling your bones.

“Your hearing loss made me feel better.” You mimic bitterly, snatching up the pages at your feet and folding them before shoving them in your pocket. “What kind of jerk bag even says that?”

Warrens mind brushes against yours, like a scolded dog and you, physically and mentally, shy from it, storming in the opposite direction and further into the trees. You feel his worry and you growl to the silent woods before sinking down onto the grass once more.

“Your hearing loss made me feel better.” You mimic again, scowling at the air. So he wanted to be a hero? So what? Heros can’t save a girl from deafness unless they’re a healer.

“He was meaning to finish sentence with self-deprecating about you then having a reason not to give up and find unbound soul. That you can hear with him, then you’d never leave.” Jean says tiredly, the words awkward and stilted with gaps. You can’t help squeaking and jerking around to face her, spotting Kurt beside her. “Before you speak, I ca- Warren physically can’t come to you, you’ve him.”

“I just told him to leave me alone, he only listens half the time.” You cringe and she shrugs lazily, but her smile has you glaring.

“Your powers are bigger than Charles or anyone expects.” She explains softly, an excited look in her eyes as she nods to Kurt and wraps a hand around his wrist.

soooo. thoughts? opinions or ideas?

@themortallife

#warren worthington fic #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington fanfic #warren worthington fanfiction #warren worthington iii fanfic

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