Chapter Text
Tony parked his car around the corner from 177A Bleecker Street a little before five pm. A gust of icy wind caught the edge of his scarf as he exited, and he pulled the knot tighter around his neck for fear of losing the bundle of warm fabric. The weather wasn’t ideal for for being outside at all, really, but the snow hadn’t started to stick to the roads yet and the restaurant was only five blocks away.
He made his way up the sidewalk and somehow reached the Sanctum’s doorstep without losing his footing in the accumulating slush. Tony considered that a huge success. He’d developed a … distaste… for ice and snow after a certain journey to Siberia, and the feeling was mutual.
Before his fingers could close over the cold metal of the door knocker, however, the world became a kaleidoscope of color and his body jerked forward through what should be solid wood and glass.
Tony shuddered once his feet hit the carpeted floor of the entry hall. He’d visited the Sanctum more times than he could count in the past several months, but he would never get used to the dizzy, sea-sick feeling that came with being teleported inside.
At least teleportation was better than a portal. Anything was better than a portal.
“You know, maybe just once you could let me use the front door? For kicks?” He swallowed down the remaining taste of acid in his mouth.
Stephen rolled his eyes as he descended the main staircase. “The hinges squeak. It’s quite annoying.”
“Do you have any idea how much motor oil I have back at the Tower?” asked Tony incredulously. “Vats, Stephen. I have literal vats of motor oil.”
“Good for you.”
“You’ve spent hours interrogating me about the suit, my bots, my inventions, but you didn’t think to ask if I could lubricate a squeaky door hinge?”
“I didn’t think it was necessary to ask you to lubricate a squeaky door hinge. Short-range teleportation requires the same amount of energy as lifting a paper clip.”
Now it was Tony’s turn to roll his eyes. “Next time I come here, I’m bringing oil and fixing that damn door. If not for your sake, then for mine.”
“Already planning the next date, sweetheart?” Tony’s attention caught on Stephen’s grey blue eyes as the other man winked. “Let’s see how this one goes first, shall we?”
Tony rolled his eyes. The pair had been dating for about two months, and by now this questioning of their relationship had become a running joke.
“Are you telling me I won’t be allowed back in the sanctum if this doesn’t work out?”
“Why on earth would you come here if not for me?”
“The weird Hogwarts vibe. The cloak and DUM-E’s playdates.”
“Speaking of playdates,” said Stephen as the sound of pounding footsteps echoed from upstairs.
A moment later, Peter appeared at the top of the Sanctum’s grand staircase and slid down the banister. Harley followed, his expression full of fond exasperation.
“Betcha can’t catch me, gearhead!” shouted Peter.
“Really not tryin’ to, spider-boy,” the other teen retorted.
“Whatever you took from Harley, give it back kid,” said Tony without looking away from his boyfriend. “Oh and Wong, can’t forget Wong - who else would I jam out to Beyonce with?” he continued as if they hadn’t been interrupted.
“Nope, mine now,” said Peter.
Tony finally looked up and saw that Peter was wearing Harley’s leather jacket, which was ridiculously big on him. It was faded and worn in some places, signs that it had been well-loved for many years. No matter how hard Tony had tried, Harley had always refused his offers of buying him a new one. It was one of his top five most prized possessions, easy.
Yet Harley only smiled as he watched Peter climb the wall while wearing it.
“I can portal him back down to the ground if you’d like,” offered Stephen, long ago having accepted that he would forever be cleaning Peter’s fingerprints off the Sanctum’s ceiling.
“I really don’t mind,” said Harley, a sweet grin still on his face. “I’ll get it back from him eventually, and until then he looks cute in it.”
“You aren’t getting it back, it’s mine,” protested Peter as he hung upside down from a web.
“And you’re mine,” replied Harley.
“You are literal children,” said Tony flatly.
“I’m eighteen.”
“And I’m … okay I’m not eighteen, but sixteen and a half is pretty close!” added Peter from above.
“Cradle-robber,” joked Stephen.
“Look, we’re mushy, but at least we aren’t as bad as you two,” said Harley. “Pot. Kettle. Black.”
“We aren’t -”
“Are we already planning the next date, sweetheart?” retorted Harley, pitching his voice low in a parody of seductiveness. “Let’s see how this one goes first, shall we?” He winked, and Stephen blushed in embarrassment.
“Alright, point taken,” admitted Tony as he sighed. “Fine, we’ll try to tone down the mush if you will. Okay? I just want to spend time with you both, and you’ve kinda made yourselves a package deal these days.”
“I dunno, what do you think, darlin’?” said Harley to Peter, though his grin showed that he was fine with the compromise.
“I’m good if you’re good, babe,” said the teen as he descended the wall. “Let’s head out before the place fills up, the food is amazing but it’s super small.”
The four headed outside after taking care to bundle themselves in appropriate winter gear. Tony was afraid of portals and Stephen of cars, and so the group walked to their destination despite the weather.
The trek was too cold for conversation, and so it wasn’t until they began to warm up in his favorite little hole-in-the-wall that their talking resumed. As they settled into a table in the back corner, all noted with delight that the air of the restaurant was blessedly hot and tinged with the mouth-watering scent of Mediterranean spices.
Tony began to brush away a few snowflakes that had managed to find a way underneath Stephen’s knit cap absently.
“Mushy! I get a freebee!” Peter pounced, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, which was flushed pink from the cold.
Harley used the opportunity to tossle Peter’s fluffy hat hair.
Tony rolled his eyes as Stephen chuckled. “You’re really bad at this,” teased the sorcerer.
“There was snow in your hair! It is my solemn duty as your boyfriend to keep your hair dry, clean, and gorgeously styled as always.”
“And it is my solemn duty to mess Pete’s up,” grinned Harley.
Peter made a half-hearted noise of protest.
Since they’d both never been to this place before, Stephen and Harley began to look through the menu. Tony and Peter had their own favorite dishes memorized by now, though, and so they took the opportunity to catch up.
“So, how’s school going underoos? Did you start looking at colleges yet?”
Peter grinned mischievously. “I’ve pretty much decided … on Caltech.”
Tony glared at him. “If you go there I will disown you.”
“But they’re a great school! Some might say they’re the best tech school in the country…”
“Brat,” huffed Tony. “If I write you a rec letter MIT will let you in faster than the speed of light, but of course you pick CalTech just to spite me.”
Peter gave up the ruse quickly. “Okay okay I’m kidding, I promise. Harley and I want to stay on the east coast.”
It was just one sentence, and yet it made Tony’s heart melt a little. They’d only been dating for a few months now - about as long as him and Stephen actually, maybe a few weeks longer - and yet they were already planning their futures around each other. It was sweet. Stupid, but sweet.
He didn’t voice any of this, of course, and was saved from having to respond by the waiter who came to take their orders.
“How about you Harley?” asked Stephen once the waiter had left.
“Same plan as Pete. Start school somewhere on the east coast year after next, but I’ll probably go for engineering instead.”
“Decided you only want to do two gap years, then?” asked Tony.
The other teen looked up at the question directed to him and shrugged.
“I don’t see much point in waitin’ longer than that. This way Pete and I start at the same time, and as much as I like workin’ for Stark Industries, I’m gonna hit a wall in the field real fast without at least a Bachelors.”
Stephen sighed in faux disappointment. “It’s a shame that neither of you want to go into biomedicine. I have a lot of pull at Hopkins.”
Harley wrinkled his nose. “No offense Doc, but biology is just too … squishy. And I really don’t like blood.”
Peter shrugged. “I don’t mind that part - I mean I didn’t before, but it’s kinda hard to be a superhero who faints at the sight of blood, ya know? Robotics is just so cool.”
“So is biology!” replied Stephen.
“Mmmm, no, kid’s right,” disagreed Tony with a teasing smile. “Computers are way cooler.”
“He designed his own biodegradable web fluid with tensile strength that’s off the charts and is fully compatible with the human body. Do you know how revolutionary that could be if it was modified for the medical field? Peter would be a pioneer, he'd have publications and his name would be in textbooks for generations.”
“He also designed his own web shooters when he was like twelve -”
“ - fourteen,” corrected Peter shyly, cheeks turning pink.
“- and has been helping me develop a new AI that’s gonna be revolutionary … once we get the kinks worked out.”
Harley smirked. “I’m pretty sure that if anyone’s s’posed to brag about my boyfriend like this, it’s me. I do love seeing him blush, though.”
Peter smacked his arm. “Okay, I’m agreeing with Mr. Stark this time, you are the … worst… Hey, did anybody hear that?”
“Distraction will get you nowhere, darlin’ - ” said Harley, but Peter cut him off before he could continue.
“No, I’m being serious, something’s happening.”
Tony and Stephen frowned at the teen.
“Everything okay, underoos? Is your Peter tingle acting up?”
Peter ignored the jab, which is how they all knew that something really was wrong. Instead, his eyes grew wide, and he bolted up from the table. Harley caught his chair just in time to prevent it from being knocked over.
“Suit up, we gotta go,” the teen said urgently.
Sure enough, a few moments later the other three could make out the faint sound of screaming in the distance. It quickly grew louder as Tony and Stephen stood as well.
“That’s our cue,” agreed Tony. “Sorry Harls, duty calls. Promise this isn’t a dine and dash, we’ll be back before you can memorize and recite thirty digits of pi.”
“Only thirty? I know fifty-seven,” snarked Harley. Despite his brash words, though, Peter could sense the sadness that lay beneath them.
Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine, memorize another thirty of it for me and I’ll give you a new potato gun for Christmas.”
With that, and a respectful nod from Stephen, the pair was off.
Peter lingered for a moment longer, turning to his boyfriend ruefully. “I’m sorry, I know how much you hate this -”
“Darlin’, I understand,” he replied with false cheer. “I’ll be here when you’re done kickin’ some villain ass, okay? Give ‘em hell for me.”
Peter leaned down for a quick kiss, and then he was gone.
The rest of the restaurant’s occupants, both diners and staff alike, rushed to look out the glass storefront as the sounds of the fight raging outside became deafening.
Harley stayed sitting. He sighed and closed his eyes, now that there was no one around to see him. He loved Peter and Tony, and was growing to like Stephen. Really, truly. But after just six months of moving to New York and spending all his time with superheroes… well, being normal made him feel inferior. He wanted to help, to be able to join his boyfriend and his father figure when they were called away to save the world again and again and again, to keep them safe and protect them instead of watching the news like everyone else and praying that they’d all come home safely each night.
He wanted -
A hand clapped over his mouth.
A second grabbed his hair from behind, jerking his head back roughly.
A syringe was jammed into his neck, painfully injecting a cold liquid under his skin.
He struggled against the grip of his attackers, but the chemicals worked too fast.
He grew desperate as he felt his body grow weaker and his vision faded at the edges.
He tried kicking over one of the chairs across the table to draw someone’s attention to what was happening, but it was no use - everyone was too occupied with watching the fight that was unfolding outside.
He heard a deep-throated chuckle from behind him as the world faded to black.
It took the three heroes less than fifteen minutes to subdue the ten men armed with advanced tech who’d been terrorizing downtown. Stephen portaled them to a high-level magic prison at Kamar-Taj, and promised Wong that he would come to question them later that evening.
The three victorious men were bruised and battered and tired beyond belief. But they were still alive, thankfully … and very hungry.
The restaurant’s patrons began to clap and thank them tearfully as they entered. Tony, always the most skilled at public relations, lingered to speak with them in more detail. Stephen pulled a waitress to the side and asked for boxes for their food.
Peter made a beeline to the table, an easy smile ready on his face to greet his boyfriend.
But there was no one there.
Four full, steaming plates of food sat on the small table, all of them untouched even though Harley wouldn’t have hesitated to start eating without them.
The chair that he’d been sitting on was overturned.
And his leather jacket, the one Harley would never go anywhere without, was still slung over the back of Peter’s chair.
The teen’s hands curled into fists, and he bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.
Someone had taken Harley from him, and they were going to pay .