Chapter Text
Harley heard Peter stumble in from the living room window at 4 in the morning. He saw the light to the bathroom go on through his cracked door and heard the rustling of the first aid kit’s contents. He wanted so badly to go in and help the younger teen, but that was overstepping. They had backpedaled and Harley didn’t feel right chastising him like he would have.
He waited.
.-~*~-.
Peter left the apartment at 6 each morning, regardless if it was weekend or weekday. Harley knew he was picking up more shifts at Luigi’s; he always passed by it to check in Peter through the window. He’d see the bags under his eyes when he came home from work to change and go out again to wherever the hell it is that he goes. He’d hear Peter enter in the early hours of the morning to crash on their couch. He’d see the bruises and slash marks on the boys exposed skin.
He didn’t say anything.
.-~*~-.
“You’ve gotten worse than me.” Harley said one day in the kitchen. Peter looked up, a dark bruise smearing his left cheek as he was favoring his right arm over his left while he mixed his scrambled eggs.
“That’s not...”
“My business? It used to be,” Harley said, crossing his arms.
“And it used to be mine when you drank,” Peter huffed
“One time, Peter,” Harley gritted out and stepped closer. “Just because I make one mistake, doesn’t mean you can totally forget about making progress. Wasn’t it you who said progress wasn’t linear? We both knew I was bound to relapse some time, didn’t we? You said so yourself. We both saw this coming. I cut you some slack, but now I feel like you’ve gotten worse than when we started.”
“I didn’t. I’m not getting worse. You...”
“Then why the are you bleeding all over the kitchen? You haven’t had a bruise for weeks before my relapse.” Harley said and gestured to Peter who leaned back against the counter. “You’ve relapsed, and you aren’t even gonna try to fix it? Where is that Parker pride?” he asked, making sure not to yell, making sure to show Peter his disappointment not through harsh tone.
“I’m fine ” was all Peter could respond with through clenched teeth.
Harley snorted. “I’ve seen when your fine, sugarcube, and this ain’t it.” Harley said, but he didn’t really mean the mirth he used, coming up to gently brush Peter’s bruised cheek gently.
He unconsciously leaned into the touch. “You’re not mad.”
“I’m worried.” Harley admitted.
Peter looked at him for a second and then pulled away. “Whatever,” he said coldly, and walked away.
Before Harley could rebut anymore, his phone rang. Taking a deep breath and resetting his demeanor. “Hey, squirt. Is everything okay?” Harley tensed as he heard a light sniffle on the other side of the line. “Abby, what’s wrong?”
“Something happened.”
“Is it those bullies at school again?”
She shook her head, though he couldn’t see that. “It was before I came to New York for Thanksgiving. I…”
When she didn’t continue, he got a nervous chill. “What happened?”
“I… Igotkidnapped.”
“What?!” Harley exclaimed.
“Spider-Man saved me, it all worked out, but that’s really not why I’m calling you right now.”
“This conversation isn’t done, young lady.” He sighed. “But you’re calling for a reason, so go ahead. I’m all ears.”
“I’m just… I’m so scared. I’m terrified it’s going to happen again, and I keep feeling like I’m being followed and I… he saved me then but he’s not here anymore to save me again and I just… I’m scared, Harley.”
Before thinking about the implications, Harley told her, “I’m going to find a way to get you to New York.”
“You will?”
“I… I’ll figure it out. Okay? All I ever want is for you to be safe.”
“I love you, Harley.”
“I love you too.”
.-~*~-.
Peter wrapped his arms around his knees and squished himself into a corner in his bed in the dark. He put his head down and wept for a while in the dark. The door cracked open, a little fluorescent glow seeping in.
At first Harley didn’t notice Peter as his head shot up and followed Harley’s movement with puffy eyes. Then, a lamp went on, causing Peter to flinch back at the light a little as Harley yelped and jumped away from him.
“Yeesh, a little warning next time?” Harley attempted to joke before he inspected the younger boy. He noticed that the boy was cradling his shoulder, where he was bleeding. He panicked and went over to him and started to fret over him.
“I’m fine.” Peter mumbled as he leaned away from Harley’s advances. “It was just a light stab wound.”
“Stab wound?” Harley asked in disbelief.
“Light stab wound.” Peter corrected and his breath hitched.
Harley inspected his face. “You’re crying,” he said almost in shock.
Peter snorted. “Yeah no shit.”
“You’re hurt.” Harley also pointed out.
“I’m not crying because of that.” Peter whispered.
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because Spider-Man is a fucking joke !” Peter snarled harshly. “Can’t even save—”
“No.” Peter looked up at Harley who had went into a dark tone. “No, you don’t get to say that.”
“Harley, I’m allowed to have opinions.” Peter glared at him.
“Yes, but it’s out of place here. You are stabbed and—”
“A girl is dead because he couldn’t save her. You know that, right? He’s not a hero, he’s a—”
“Shut UP! What would you know about being a hero? You’re not one, and until you are, you can can it. Spider-Man risks his life everyday trying to do good. He saved someone I love’s life, and what do you do? You’re ending your own life while instead of saving yourself. He’s trying his best. You couldn’t even get out of the couch today. I bet Spider-Man doesn’t pretend to be okay when he’s not. I bet he faces reality even when it slaps him in the face. It’s not his fault that he can’t save everyone, but at least he’s saving someone .”
“You don’t know that!”
“At least Spider-Man doesn’t sit there and tear other people down when he has a bad day.”
“Oh, what? Spider-Man isn’t allowed to have feelings? He’s not allowed to cry when he can’t save everyone? He’s just supposed to keep moving? Cause that’s what the oh so great Harley Keener’s definition of a hero is.” Peter vented on and Harley wasn’t really sure where this conversation was going, but he was speechless. Peter, evidently wasn’t. “He’s human no matter how much of a freak he is. He still has emotions. You think that just because he’s a superhero, he has all the answers? That he doesn’t feel the crushing weight of his failures everyday? That as the body count keep piling higher and higher the weight on his shoulders becomes heavier, he doesn’t break? He has to live with the fact that he didn’t save everyone or didn’t stop every single robbery, and that he constantly is around the people who’s lives were affected by what he couldn’t fucking do ? Yeah no shit it’s not my fault, but I don’t feel that way!” His eyes went wide. “No wait, I—”
“You?” Harley asked. “You’re…” He looked around the ground and caught sight of Peter’s backpack just as Peter did, and strode towards it.
“No wait, Harley.” He got up and his shoulder ached but he didn’t care about that. He tried grabbing for the bag but Harley was taller than him, and Peter couldn’t effectively reach around him in time.
Harley opened the bag and gasped. “You’re…” He turned slowly around to look at him and gently lifted the suit up out of the bag. “You’re Spider-Man.”
Peter shrunk back a little and took a step away from the older boy. His shoulder wound was still sluggishly bleeding. “I’m… not?”
“You are !” Harley held up the suit as emphasis. “You’ve been...”
“Swinging around the city pretending to be a hero?” Peter said almost with venom. “Or maybe, getting myself nearly killed every night for no real reason. That seems to be a popular one with the Falcon .” He grumbled in distaste.
“Peter…”
“No, say it. Say why I shouldn’t be doing this. I’ve heard it all before. That I’m not a good hero. That I’m too young. Not enough experience. Too weak. Not enough. Seriously. I wanna hear what you come up with now.” Harley looked at him warily. “Please, give me your best shot.”
“You aren’t very supported are you?”
Peter scoffed. “The Avengers think you have to be of legal age to drink to help people,” he said going back to his bed and kneeling to find his first aid kit under his bed. “Well, everyone except Iron Man. But he still thinks kids shouldn’t help people even if they can.”
“But you do, you’re a—”
“I’m not a hero Harley.” he said in a resigned voice.
“Yes you are. ”
“So I still don’t get a say?” Peter snorted and looked down and slid his oversized shirt down around his webbed up wound. And started to peel off the webbing.
“Peter! This is serious.” Harley said in a scolding tone, kneeling next to him to help and hold up the towels to keep the wound from spilling any more blood than necessary. Peter allowed it.
“Who gives a fucking shit anyways?" he asked, in a slurred sing song. "You said it yourself. Peter Parker is too much of a pussy to get the job done himself. He’s just sitting here, crying. God, it’s like everytime I get my hopes up, they get mugged and shot in an alleyway. Fuck, why am I even talking to you anymore?”
“Peter, please. We need to get you help.”
“Sure, whatever you say, sugar. ” Peter said with a mocking smug grin as he handed Harley the gauze and held the end down to the top of his shoulder as Harley started to wrap it around the wound.
“No. Nope. That’s my word. Are you okay?” He asked as Peter started to sway a little from his spot on the ground.
“No, I’m Spider-Man.”
“What the fuck?”
“What? I can say it now.”
“That’s not... hey!” Harley exclaimed as Peter slumped back into Harley’s chest, unconscious. Scrambling to think, Harley grabbed his phone and called the only person he could. “Tony? I need your help.”