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A gentle breeze fresh off the lake blew through Peter’s hair, bringing with it all the familiar and welcoming scents of his second home.
He shut the door to Harley’s baby, a vintage red Camaro with black racing stripes, and immediately locked eyes with Tony, who watched them both walk the dirt path up to the lakehouse from his favorite chair on the porch.
“Oh, look who it is,” said Tony. “The amazing Peter Parker and Iron Lad.”
“I’ve asked you to stop calling me that,” said Harley. He put his laundry basket down on the porch.
“Shouldn’t you two be off doing college boy things? Like blowing up your dorm rooms or terrorizing your professors into retiring early?” Tony’s eyes shifted to Peter. “Or not studying for your Chem midterm on Monday?”
Peter frowned, and dropped his laundry bag from his shoulder. It landed with a thud, next to Harley’s basket. “How did you know about my test?”
“Think it’s hard for this genius and savior of the universe to hack a lousy MIT server?”
“Morgan’s right,” said Peter, having flashbacks to that time, a couple of weeks earlier, when she had called him from her closet to complain that her dad spent the entire day at her school. “You have boundary issues.”
“And I’m called Iron Man 2,” said Harley.
“Yeah,” said Peter. “Cause he’s the sequel.”
“Well you know what they say about sequels. They’re never as good as the original.”
“It’s cold here,” said Harley. He turned to Peter. “Why did we come here, again?”
“I dunno, my memory’s sort of foggy…”
“Oh, let me try,” said Tony. “Maybe cause you’re both broke college students who haven’t had a solid meal since the last time you drove four hours to do laundry, and you know on Friday nights I make my famous lasagna.”
“Yeah,” admitted Peter. “Sounds about right.”
Tony pulled him into a belligerent hug, knocking the air of him, and ruffling his hair with his prosthetic arm. Harley was next, though he tried, and failed, to get away. Peter lifted both heaps of laundry off the porch. The three of them went inside, where the aroma of home cooked lasagna filled the air.
Peter breathed it in, and a peaceful feeling spread through his body. He was home. At least for a while.
*
The garage was dimly lit, but that was the way Harley liked it. Reminded him of home, and all those nights he’d snuck out to the garage after his mother went to bed to tinker until sunrise, working quietly by lantern and flashlights only, to stay hidden and unbothered.
It didn’t matter how much noise he made at the Stark lake house. He’d always be drown out by Morgan’s chaos or Tony’s rambling or Peter’s frequently moody loud thoughts. It was comforting, and annoying, at all once.
“Burning the midnight oil?” asked Tony, and Harley poked his head up from insides of his beloved Camaro.
Tony wore a robe patterned with tiny Spider-Mans over his pajamas, and Harley had never really gotten used to that, to seeing Tony Stark, Iron Man, walking around in goofy dad pajamas.
“Something like that.”
“I can help you, you know,” said Tony. He patted the red Camaro, and Harley swatted his hand away.
“No way,” said Harley. He knew what happened when Tony started tinkering, even when he’d claim they were only minor upgrades. “Touch her and die. I like her the way she is.”
“That’s not what you said when you asked for my expert advice about your suit.”
“One of my biggest regrets,” said Harley.
“Brat.”
“Old man.”
“I’m not that old,” pointed out Tony.
“But you’re retired,” said Harley. “And that automatically ages you up about twenty years.”
“I’m not retired. I’m a dad, thus making retirement impossible.”
Tony sat on a stool, and with his latest statement, his mood shifted towards something more heavy, more sad. Just the way conversation tended to go lately, as if someone had died. That was about right. Someone had practically died.
“You’re worried about Peter?” Harley guessed.
“I’m always worried about Peter,” said Tony. “And Morgan. But I actually came in here to talk about you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you,” said Tony. “How’s MIT? How’s your first semester going? I need all the details.”
Harley paused, wondered if it was alright to tell the truth, then realized he couldn’t help it. He broke out into a grin.
“It’s great,” said Harley. “It’s everything I thought it’d be.”
They spend the next couple of hours ignoring the Camaro in favor and talking about hated professors, loved professors, his favorite classes, parties, that girl in his Econ class that always seems to evade him whenever he’d worked up the nerve to ask her out.
“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” said Tony. “You don’t have to feel guilty about it just because -”
“-because Peter’s not?” offered Harley. “I’m worried about him, too.”
“He’ll be fine,” said Tony, but there wasn’t any reassurance in his words and his eyes looked a bit lost, evident even in the dimly lit garage.
“He’s depressed.”
Tony took a breath, as if he’d known along, but wasn’t ready to hear the simple, plain truth stated like that.
“Yeah,” said Tony. “I suppose he is.”
After several seconds of dead air, Tony stood up from his stool, and clasped him on the shoulder. “I appreciate you looking out for him, as long as you’re remembering to look after yourself.”
“Yeah, sure,” said Harley. “It’s really like we look out for each other, tough. Take turns being the responsible one. We’ve got a calendar for it and everything.”
Tony laughed, and got that far off look in his eyes. The one he usually got before launching into a story about his and Rhodey’s college days, but on that night, Harley was spared a story about good ole days. He suspected it was due to Tony worrying more about Peter than he was letting on.
*
Tony wanted to call May.
She was a beacon of parental wisdom, especially when it came to Peter, and Tony could really use the help. He was out of his league, here, but last time he’d call at this time of night, he hadn’t gotten advice about how to sooth Morgan through the sudden loss of her imaginary friend. He’d gotten yelled at, by her, and then by Happy, both of them grumpy about being woken up.
And since Pepper also didn’t like being woken up, Tony would have to go with his instincts this time. His instincts told him what Peter needed was a little bit of tough love.
So, he positioned himself on the stairs, just as Peter tried disappearing into his room for some sleep.
“Tony,” said Peter. “Please don’t be annoying.”
“Too late. I was born that way.”
“Please move. Tired.”
“MIT has really gone downhill since I left, huh,” said Tony. “Students can’t even speak in complete sentences.”
Peter groaned, and Tony slung his arm around him, directing him into the kitchen where’s set up the table with a variety of study aids and all of Peter’s school books.
“What is this?”
“Oh you know,” said Tony. He let go of him, and walked around the table. “You got your energy drinks, you sour gummy candy, your laptop, school books, day old pizza in the fridge, all the necessities for an all-nighter.”
“Why?”
“I’m teaching you how to be a real college student,” said Tony. “And I figured I could help you study for your Chem midterm, since you don’t seem to be interested in it at all.”
“I’m a genius. I don’t need study help.”
“Uh huh,” said Tony. “A genius who’s almost failing Chemistry, and will without a decent score on this test.”
Peter dropped his shoulders, and annoyance flashed across his face. Tony waited for him to yell, or start a fight with him.
He’d been so polite, for the most part, during his teen years Tony figured it was about time for them to be at odds over something, about time for Peter to go off the rails the way only a nineteen-year-old could.
“I was thinking,” said Peter, stating his discontent calmly. No yelling only meant it was gonna be harder for Tony to shoot this down. “I could just forget about school.”
“Forget about school?”
“Yeah,” said Peter. Like it was no big deal. “I could help you and Bruce figure what’s wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Except for your Chemistry grade.”
“You know what I mean, Tony,” said Peter, a bite to his tone. “Find out what’s wrong with my powers. So I can be Spider-Man again.”
“Kid, we’ve been through this over and over again. Bruce and I, we’re handling this. School is your job right now.”
“Well I’m tired of just sitting around, and waiting -”
“-hence you being enrolled at MIT.”
Tony pushed Peter towards the table, and they both sat down.
“Listen, Pete,” he told him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what it’s like to have these powers and suddenly have them disappear. It’s been… rough on you. And May and I get that. We let you mope around New York all summer long, but it’s time to pick yourself up and keep moving forward.”
Peter stared at the table, at all the study materials, and it was hard for Tony to interpret what he was thinking.
“Think of it as a shot at having some normalcy,” he said. “Before you get your powers back and with them, all of Spider-Man’s responsibilities.”
“What if,” said Peter. His mask of uninterest started to crack. “And what if they don’t come back?”
“They will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” said Tony. “I literally saved this whole universe, and our friend Professor Hulk brought half the population back. I think we’ve got it covered.”
“Yeah,” said Peter, though he didn’t sound convinced. He looked away from Tony, and at his school books. “I guess we better get started.”
Tony frowned.
He had been hoping for more conversation, or at least to break through to the kid, in some way, even if it was just a talk and a vent.
Instead he had an almost breakthrough. A tiny crack in the disguise. And that wasn’t good enough, even if Peter was studying and allowing Tony to help him.
When they’re done, Peter disappeared to his room to get some sleep, and Tony sat up, at the table, sipping on a god-awful energy drink and wondering who he’d have to bribe to become a professor at MIT.