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Today was a good day.
Really! It was an awesome day.
He woke up before his alarm, awake and ready for the day. He had enough time to make himself cheesy scrambled eggs and toast and one of those premade smoothies that come in little bottles. He didn’t miss his train, and he made it to class on time, and he had his homework finished that was one hundred percent right.
He aced his Chemistry lab and finished his post-lab notes early so he got to spend the last few minutes of class finishing his APUSH essay four days before the deadline!
And speaking of APUSH, he was the only one who knew the answer to the opening discussion question, and didn’t have to worry about being called on for the rest of class.
After that, he totally nailed his test in AB Calculus, topics he had already learned in his free time from his garbage textbooks.
Then, he finished his day off by finishing watching The Truman Show in AP Lang which he had to just fill out comprehension questions for.
It was a great day. It was a really great day.
It wasn’t a Mr. Stark day. However, it was a patrol night, and May had ordered him a substantial dinner to get him fueled for the night. (Man, did he love BBQ sauce on his burgers.)
And his patrol was going great! Stopped two whole muggings, helped a lot of ladies in really high heels who had really strong scents of really strong alcohols cross the street safely, helped a guy change his tire (he held up his car since he didn’t have a jack), and walked a kid home from the bus stop so he wouldn’t have to walk alone.
He was on a roll!
And maybe that’s why he was a little too over-confident in the moments to come.
So there was this witch, right? Well, he didn’t know if that was the right term because he read this Tumblr post that said that witches and wizards are only gendered interchangeable terms because of JK Rowling and the Harry Potter series, and that witches were a very different thing than wizards, so maybe she was more of a wizard. An enchantress maybe?
Not the point.
So there was this enchantress, and she was in this long silk robe, well, he didn’t know if it was silk, but it did look very silky, and it was this bright cobalt blue with white glittery sparkles, which he wasn’t sure if that was in the fabric itself or if it was sewn on, but that would take a lot of time, right? One time, on his YouTube recommended, he watched this video about the Broadway production of Anastasia, and they sewed thousands of crystals on her dress and it took like forever, so this enchantress must’ve taken some major time getting that outfit ready if she did sew them.
But she was an enchantress, so maybe she just used magic.
Right! Magic.
So she was waving her hands and she was making this giant glowing ball and, oh! Right! She was floating. In a graveyard.
Uh...yeah. Creepy.
So, Peter was watching her from afar, trying to figure out what she was conjuring, but it couldn’t be anything good if she was doing it in a graveyard.
So, he did the only thing he could do.
Intervene.
“Hey!” he called.
Her head snapped up (backwards, oh God, that is nightmare fuel for the next month). Her eyes narrowed, sharp, shark-like teeth barring into a hiss.
“Woah!” Peter yelped. “You’ve sure got pearly whites. They should be on billboards! You could sell Colgate with teeth like yours.”
She did not like that at all.
She kamehameHAed straight at Peter, blasting him with glowy orbs of doom that he masterfully dodged.
“That’s not very nice!” Peter yelled, flipping out of the way.
When he turned to face her, her and her sparkly, cobalt robe were gone.
“What? Where’d she go?”
But, before he could react to the pins and needles in the back of his neck, his body was overwhelmed with a surge of burning heat, his vision going bright white, and the black.
When Peter stirred awake, the first thing he noticed was that he was not in fact on the damp grass of a cemetery. The second thing he noticed was that whatever bed he was in did not smell anything like his apartment. The third thing he noticed, and really it should’ve been the first thing, but he was a little preoccupied, was that there was a strong arm looped over his waist, gripping his torso, and a leg intertwined with his, hips pushed flush with his…
“Where am I?” Peter mumbled, trying to blink away his confusion.
He stiffened as the man next to him groaned awake. A pair of warm lips kissed the back of his neck. “Mornin’ darlin’. Sleep well?”
Peter squirmed out of his grasp, falling to the floor, the covers following with him.
“Woah! You alright?” the man asked with a soft chuckle.
“Where am I?” Peter asked, alarmed and alert.
The man frowned. “Oh, honey. You’re at home in Manhattan, New York. It’s April 17, 2043…”
“2043?” Peter repeated, brows knitted tight.
“Yes, it’s 2043. You’re safe. You’re home.” He sat criss crossed, arms by his side as if he was trying to show that he was unarmed. “Do you remember who I am?”
“Honestly? No,” Peter admitted.
The man frowned, his lips pressed tight. “I’m Harley. Harley Keener. I’m your husband.”
“Husband?” Peter parrotted, even more confused. “I have a husband in 2043? That’s… huh. Didn’t expect that.”
The man- Harley looked to him with realization dawning. “You’re not confused because of a nightmare.”
“Uh, no,” Peter confirmed.
“Did you happen to just get hit by an enchantress in a graveyard?” Harley asked.
“How’d you know?” Peter asked, surprised.
“Because that happened to you twenty five years ago. You told me.”
Peter frowned. “But that means… I… she sent me twenty five years in the future.”
He nodded.
“Huh. Uh… huh. That’s… well that’s definitely not how I expected my Thursday to go. Does that mean…”
“My Peter is taking your place taking down the enchantress. Oh! Don’t worry about him messing around with your past. This is a closed loop.”
“That’s not ominous at all,” Peter muttered.
“I know this is all a little crazy, but time travel isn’t that crazy of a concept anymore. At least, not for you.”
“Weird. Weird. So we’re like… married married?”
Harley chuckled. “To put it simply.”
“How’d we meet?”
“You’ll have to find out,” Harley said.
“So if I choose to date you because I met you now, isn’t that like a paradox?”
Harley shrugged. “I tried not to think about it too much.”
“It doesn’t bother you? That our relationship is now a set circumstance in time?”
“Well, you’re pretty cool, so I don’t mind much.”
Peter slumped down, still on the walnut hardwood. “So we’re like… are we in love?”
“I’d like to think so, yes,” Harley said with a goofy smile.
“That’s cool. That’s… yeah, that’s pretty cool.”
“So, shoot. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions.”
“Shouldn’t you be protecting the timeline or something?” Peter questioned.
“Fine. You want to be boring then.”
Peter rolled his eyes, already warming up to his future husband.
Future husband. That’s not gonna get any less weird.
“Okay, fine. What do you do? Like what’s your job?”
“Why don’t you take a guess,” Harley said.
Peter studied him, his thin white sleepshirt and Santa boxers giving no indication of what he did.
“Why are you wearing Santa boxers? Didn’t you say it’s April?”
“They’re comfortable!” Harley argued.
“Alright…” Peter replied. “Well give me a clue. Did we meet at work?”
“How is that a clue? You don’t know what you do in the future.”
“Well, I have aspirations! Are you saying I don’t achieve my dreams in the future?” Peter asked.
“You do achieve some of your dreams,” Harley said flatly.
“And do we meet at work?”
He shook his head. “We met at a…” he trails off, smile faltering. “A, uh, friend’s party.”
“Do I know this friend now?” Peter asked.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
He nods. “You do.”
“Well, I don’t know a lot of people. Can I guess who this friend is?”
“That I might have to veto,” Harley said.
Peter frowned. “Oh. Okay.” He moved on quickly, not questioning Harley’s discomfort. “So we don’t meet at work, so that doesn’t give me any clues. Are you a scientist?”
“Nope.”
“Am I a scientist?” Peter tried.
“Yup.”
“Really? Cool!” He tapped his chin. “Hm, so you’re not a scientist.” He looked at the open closet door filled with expensive suits. “Are you a businessman?”
“Ding ding ding,” Harley sang. “Somethin’ like that.”
“Do you like it? Being a businessman?”
“It’s got its perks and it’s got its faults. But I do a lot of good, so that’s all that really matters.”
“You sound really modest,” Peter said. “That’s a good thing. I bet you’re not just a normal businessman. I bet you’re a super fancy businessman.”
“You could say that,” Harley said with a soft chuckle.
Peter’s jaw dropped. “Are you like the CEO or something?”
“Guilty as charged,” he said with a casual shrug.
“Woah! What company?”
“Big tech company,” he said vaguely.
“Wow. That’s cool. Good for you.” His eyes drifted around the room, taking in the sight, trying to memorize every little thing about it. “So what am I up to? Am I still…” He stopped. “Do you know…?”
“That you’re Spider-Man. Yeah, I do. And you’re more of a mentor than an active Avenger right now.”
“Did I… did I do a lot of good?” Peter asked tentatively.
“You did a lot of good.”
“That’s… good.”
Harley laughed, the bubbly bright sound something that Peter would hold onto until they met again.
His breath hitched as he caught sight of the photo on the other side of the room. “Do we have kids?”
“Kid,” Harley corrected. “His name’s Oliver. We adopted him from China. He’s not home right now.”
“Why not?”
Harley smiled. “College. He’s at Boston Conservatory for music.”
“Wow. He must be really good.”
Harley nodded. “Don’t know where he gets it. Definitely not from you.”
“Hey!” Peter crossed his arms over his chest, folding over. “But yeah, you’re right.”
“So, any more questions?”
“May,” Peter said, suddenly solemn. “Is she…?”
“Alive and well. She’s 85, living in a little house in the forest. She’s got a pontoon boat that she takes out every Saturday, and we all have brunch on Sundays.”
“Did she ever get remarried?” Peter asked.
Harley nodded. “And don’t worry, he’s a good guy. You two are really close. He treats her right, and it might take you a bit of adjusting, but you warm up quickly.”
“Hm,” Peter drummed his fingers on the floor. “Were you okay with the fact that I was Spider-Man when you found out?”
“Yup. Though, it’s hard not to trust you and your judgement about things especially when you’re so adamant on doing good and saving lives.”
Peter’s cheeks warmed. “Oh. That’s good.”
“Am I happy?”
“Very. You’ve had a lot of hardship and a lot of tragedy in your life, but you always overcome it. You’re strong, and you keep bein’ strong.”
Peter smiled. “I’m glad to hear.”
“You want an omelette?” Harley suddenly asked.
“Uh… sure?”
Harley made a surprisingly fantastic omelette. In fact, it was just another thing that Peter was going to long for once he got back.
They didn’t talk while he cooked, Peter too afraid to screw with the timeline anymore, despite the fact that Harley reassured him it was a closed loop.
Harley hummed when he cooked, a song that Peter didn’t recognize, though he wasn’t sure it was because he had never heard of it or if it just didn’t exist yet.
“So, I’m forty-two?” Peter asked as he sipped on a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.
Harley stilled. “Uh, yeah. You are.”
Peter narrowed his gaze. “Why do you say it like that?”
“No reason.” He held up the pan. “Bacon?”
“Uh, sure.”
Harley dumped a pile onto his plate.
“So, how are my friends? Are we still friends?” Peter asked.
“Well, you and Ned are still close as ever. He works on Avengers tech.” He sat next to Peter with his own plate. “You and MJ grew apart after college.”
“Oh. I guess that kind of stuff happens.”
“But don’t let that keep you from making memories now.”
“I won’t,” Peter responded, munching on the extra crunchy bacon.
“I want you to know that you shouldn’t blame yourself so much. Maybe if you start early on stopping it, then maybe…” His words dwindle. “Well, I guess I probably said this to you last time and you still didn’t. But keep that in mind. Try to forgive yourself more. Try to remember that you can’t control everything, but you can make it through.”
“Daunting words. Something prompt them?” Peter asked.
“Lots of things,” Harley replied.
“Guess I’ve got a lot to keep an eye out for.”
“And a lot to look forward to,” Harley said.
“You know, since I’ve gotten here, I haven’t even looked at myself in the mirror yet. May I?”
“Go right ahead,” Harley said. “Powder room is down the hall, on the left.”
“Thanks.”
Peter trekked slowly through the unfamiliar home, taking note of the decorations and pictures adorning the walls. “Lots of yellow,” Peter says to himself.
He entered the bathroom and froze as he caught sight of his reflection.
He definitely didn’t look forty-two, though that could be because of his baby face or his healing factor.
But he was definitely older.
He saw it in the photos around the house, but seeing a photo is different than seeing it make the faces you are making and moving the way you move.
His hair was shorter than he expected. Neater. It hadn’t greyed yet, though.
His eyes crinkled more when he smiled, and his once smoother, younger features were sharp.
Also, he was jacked.
Like… hella jacked.
If he thought he packed muscle now, hot DAMN did he hit the gym now.
He didn’t flex in the mirror for a good three minutes. He didn’t.
Finally, he left the bathroom, wandering around the home again.
“You lost?”
Peter looked up, jumping back, startled. “U-uh, no. Just looking around.”
“He’s almost done, my Peter. So, is there anything you want to ask before you’re sent back?”
Peter swallowed hard. “Does it stop hurting?”
“Does what?” Harley asked softly.
“Everything. The… not being able to save everyone. Not being able to always do the right thing.”
“I don’t know,” Harley admitted. “ But , what I do know is that you learn how to learn from that hurt. And you learn how to do your best to never…” He stopped. “You have a lot of people who care about you and are there to support you. There’s a lot of people who will catch you when you fall, and you have to remember to go to them. Because it’ll only hurt more when you bubble it up inside and let it build until you break.”
Peter bobbed his head in understanding, jaw clenched tight as he blinked away the tears prickling in his eyes. “It just hurts so much. All the time.”
“I know,” Harley said quietly. “May I?” He held his arms out.
Peter fell into his embrace, tightly gripping his back, shoulders shaking slightly.
Harley pet his hair gently, shushing him and murmuring words that he couldn’t understand.
And then he felt that burn again and he blinked back to his time, sitting in Mr. Stark’s lab.
He looked around, wiping his eyes quickly as he tried to figure out how he had gotten there.
“...so your web shooter shouldn’t get jammed again.” He turned around and handed him the webshooter. “I’m glad you came to me right away instead of stewing with it and making me find out after you went kersplat on the grimy pavements.”
Peter forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. Well, thank you.”
“We still on for Friday?” Tony asked.
“Like always,” Peter said with a nod.
“Alright. Good! Do you need a ride back or you plan on swinging back? I happen to be craving a good, greasy burger, and this is the perfect excuse to go grab one.”
An unsettling realization dawned on Peter as he figured out why his other self had brought him here, and he had to stop himself from gasping. “A ride would be great, thank you. As long as I get a couple burgers too.”
Tony grinned. “Then we better get going.”
Today was a good day.
Really. It was an awesome day.