Chapter Text
“Harley, you legit look like you ate fifteen cactuses.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I fucking did. And it’s cacti, by the way.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. That shit was probably on TikTok, wasn’t it?”
“Oh my God, stop acting so old, I know you’re on TikTok, you were on my for you page yesterday and it fucking ruined my life. Why the fuck are you posting thirst traps, you dirty old man??? Does Pepper know?”
“Pepper supports my hobbies. And one of my hobbies is collecting compliments about my glorious pecs and abs. Don’t be jealous.”
“I do not want your weird oily old man body, oh my God, I literally fucking hate you,” Harley growled, fiddling with his tie.
“Aww, love you too, scamp. Anyways, this is weird, huh? Peter being late?”
God. Harley felt a pit in his stomach. He stared at his plate.
“Yeah, well–he’s probably picking up his fucking girlfriend or whatever. Or maybe they got lost and tried to have a baby in an alley or something.”
“First of all, Peter would never have sex in an alley. He was way too polite. I saw him apologize to a table once when he bumped into it. Second of all, they tried to HAVE a baby? Don’t you mean MAKE a baby? Missing a step there, Har. And third of all–”
“Third of all, you better let me drink a glass of wine after this obnoxious rant.”
“--absolutely not. I refuse to only be the cool uncle for rich reasons, not for enabling reasons. Unless those enabling reasons happen to benefit me in any way, shape or form. In that case, I’m all in.”
“Oh my God, just say your third point and stop torturing me.”
“Alright, alright, third of all, it’s not that big of a deal, and you should just tell him.”
Harley choked on his water and immediately sputtered it into his glass.
“What the fuck are you talking about???”
“Uh, you know what I’m talking about, dumbass, don’t play stupid, people don’t find it attractive,” Tony huffed, but when Harley looked at him, he saw that there was something in his eyes. Something different. Fuck. Fucking Tony. Harley had thought that he wasn’t paying attention, but–
Fuck. Fucking fuck.
“Don’t make fun of me,” Harley snarled, feeling his face turn a thousand shades of blotchy red. It would be fucking nice if he could be swallowed in the Earth and die because Tony Stark was not supposed to know about this. Nobody was supposed to know about this. Harley had been planning on taking this to his fucking grave. You know, the grave that nobody would visit since he was such an unlikeable asshole.
And unlikeable assholes like him didn’t get–
“I’m not making fun of you,” Tony said, and his voice was oddly gentle which only made Harley’s stupid blush that much worse. “Look, I get it. I really do. And if you feel that way, tell him. Seriously.”
“I–I don’t want to fucking talk about this,” Harley muttered. “And there’s not even anything to talk about, so. Whatever. It doesn’t even–whatever you think is like–going on, it isn’t. This isn’t even–anything. I just couldn’t find a date, which is normal since everyone fucking hates me.”
“Have you ever considered that everyone hates you because you want them to?” Tony huffed.
“The fuck?”
“Harley, you push people away like it’s your fucking job. When was the last time someone actually got to know you, not just your porcupine quills? I know it hurts that your parents are–whatever, but not everybody is going to abandon you like that.”
“How would you fucking know?” Harley snapped. “And–don’t try to fucking therapize me. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. We have lived very, very fucking different lives.”
“Have we?” Tony’s eyebrows raised.
“Yes!” Harley snarled, slamming his hand down against the table. “Growing up, you got to have every single goddamn thing you ever wanted!”
“Did I?”
Tony’s voice cut through the air–and, to put it plainly, it shut Harley right the fuck up. And when Harley looked at him, for the oddest moment, it was almost like he was looking in a mirror. Like he recognized those eyes as if they were his own.
And he remembered when he’d been a very little boy and he’d met Tony Stark for the first time and he’d had a similar feeling.
“I used to think Pepper would never want to be with someone like me,” Tony said quietly. “Obviously I’m a perfect catch, but–I got nothing on her. I get it, okay, and I’m telling you–if I hadn’t tried, I would have spent my entire life regretting it.”
“Yeah, well,” Harley muttered, staring at his empty plate, “you’re old, so you don’t have that much time left.”
Tony huffed. “Thanks, Har. Love you too.”
“I’m so sorry!!”
Harley felt his heartbeat trip over itself. Tony talking about it out loud had made it that much more real, and now Peter was here and Harley was–
And Harley prepared himself to look up and see Peter coming in, hand in hand with MJ who was pretty damn awesome in her own right, but when he looked up–
When he looked–
Just Peter. Fresh-faced and floppy-haired in a suit that fit really fucking well. Fuck, the suit was really–
And Harley immediately looked away, knowing that his face had just turned lobster fucking red. Like a bigass neon sign practically screaming I’M A FUCKING IDIOT LOL.
Because he was an idiot to think even for one second–
“Better late than never, kid,” Tony offered. “We were waiting for you.”
No bantering. No jokes. Tony was literally opening the floor up for Harley and Peter to fucking interact. God, Harley both hated him and had mad fucking respect for the old man.
Harley finally looked up and made himself look at Peter. God, his eyes were so blue. He felt the pull of something around his gut. A miserable, aching, but beautiful feeling.
Peter smiled sheepishly and was it Harley’s imagination, or was he blushing too. “Hey Harley.”
Harley felt a grin tug up the corner of his mouth. “Hey, Pete.”
And Peter sat down and for the first time in a really long time, Harley felt hopeful and excited and fuck fuck fuck did he feel good.