Chapter Text
A welcome wave of fresh air hit him as he stepped down from the bus, pulling his hood closer around his face.
“Rose Hill’s that way kid,” the driver called, as she pointed towards a handful of lights in the distance. “Follow the road, shouldn’t take ya longer than ten minutes walking.”
The boy raised his hand in thanks as the doors hissed closed and the bus carried onwards into the night. Hitching his rucksack strap higher onto his shoulder, the boy started the trek along the dusty road towards the small town.
The boy noticed the stars scattered across the sky above him. Under different circumstances he would have found them fascinating, studying them and trying to pick out different constellations, indulging himself in the novelty of not having them drowned out by the lights of the city. But for now, all the stars did was serve as a reminder of just how far from home the boy had had to travel. Shaking off the shiver that had run down his spine, just as one did every time he found himself thinking about his home, the boy wrapped his arms and flimsy hoodie more tightly around himself as he carried on walking towards the town.
He had never expected Rose Hill to be much from the stories that he had heard, but he was still surprised to find that the majority of the town fitted within one short high street. He stood at the end of the street, taking in the scatting of houses, auto shop, corner shop and a few other buildings in front of him. He could hear some chattering coming from a bar a little ways down the street and saw someone stumbling out the door and lighting up a cigarette. Hoping for some directions, he quickly headed down the street.
“E-excuse me sir, I-I’m looking for B-blossom Farm. Which w-way is it?” The boy stammered, his teeth were starting to chatter despite the surprisingly humid air. The man took a long drag on his cigarette, looking him up and down with a scrutinising gaze. The boy tugged on his hood, making shadows darken some of his features.
“You sound like you’re a long way from home, kid,” the man drawled, “whatchu doin’ here anyway?” Before the boy could even start panicking about what to say in answer, the man kept talking. “You onea that menaces fancy friends from his smart school?” he asked, impossibly his eyes narrowing even further.
“U-uh, yup that’s it. Th-that’s me!” The boy replied quickly, inwardly cringing at how high his voice sounded in his anxious state. “S-so which way?”. He hoped the man wouldn’t ask too many more questions, he didn’t like being this out in the open, or having this much human contact. The boy held his breath as the man finished his cigarette, taking his time to puff out the last of the smoke before grinding the butt into the windowsill behind him.
The man then tucked his thumbs into his waistband as he clutched onto his belt and the boy noticed the gleam of a sheriff’s badge attached to it. After one more look up and down of the boy in front of him the man said, “Keep following the street down and back outta town, it’ll be on yer left -“
“That’s g-great mister. Th-thank you!” The boy said quickly, cutting the man off as he turned to start of in the direction he’d been given.
“Hey kid!” The man called, causing the boy to falter and turn back around. The man - the sheriff - dug something out of his jacket and threw it to the kid, who caught it with ease. “Take this, you look like you could do with it, try get summat on that skeleton of yours!” he said with a chuckle.
The boy looked down and his breath caught in his throat as he saw that he was now clutching a half eaten packet of beef jerky. He quickly cleared his throat, “Th-thanks mis-“ the boy started, but as he looked back up at the door, he saw that the man had already disappeared back inside.
~~~
Harley Keener was, tragically, awake. Being home from college meant that he still had to abide by his Ma’s house rules or risk her wrath and, after only a couple of instances in his childhood where he had been found tinkering in the garage way past his bed time, Harley had learnt that following the rules was the much preferred option. Yet despite this, as Harley laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, struggling to shut his mind off from ideas for his latest engineering project, he was really starting to reconsider his options. Harley reached over and grabbed his phone, lighting up the screen to see 02:19 glaring back at him. If he was at college, Harley would just make himself a large pot of coffee and work on his project until he reached the breakthrough he knew he was close to. But one of Ma’s rules was that he had to get at least some sleep every night because, as she regularly reminded him, she wants to spend time with Harley during his school breaks and not with a cranky, caffeinated zombie. Harley huffed to himself as he rolled onto his side, he’d already made it through one month back at home, he could make it through another one besides, Harley was 98.9% sure that the only reason he was able to survive his frequent all-nighters at college was because of his enforced sleep schedule during the holidays.
After turning over a few more times in bed and not finding himself any closer to sleep, Harley decided that a (non-caffeinated) drink may help him in his current predicament. Rolling himself out of his bed, Harley crept his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, making sure to jump over the creaky floorboards so that he didn’t wake up his Ma or sister Abby. Harley started to fill a glass with water when something caught his eye through the kitchen window. He looked out, hoping it wasn’t a fox on it’s way to the chicken coop, but as he peered into the dark yard he couldn’t see anything.
Perhaps I am tired enough to sleep now, Harley thought to himself as he raised the glass to his lips, when suddenly something caught his eye again. It was subtle and quick but he was sure he’d seen it, the glow of a light in the window of the garage. Putting his glass down, Harley quickly grabbed his trusty potato gun from hallway and headed out the back door and across the lawn. Harley slowed as he neared the garage, trying not to alert the intruder to his presence. Carefully, Harley ducked through the garage door that was slightly ajar.
“Who’s in here?” Harley called, “I warn ya, I’m armed and I’m a damn good shot.” He crept further into the garage, the potato gun poised and ready in his arms. He spun to his right as a figure slowly stepped out of the shadows, hands raised.
“Harley, i-it’s me. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Harley stared, open mouthed as he took in the figure of Peter Parker in front of him. He’d only met the boy once at Tony’s funeral and back then, with the aftermath of the battle and the grief, he had thought Peter looked rougher than any teen has need to look, but that was nothing compared to the sight that was in front of him now. The kid was skinny, too skinny. His clothes hung off him and Harley was willing to bet that he hadn’t eaten anywhere near his required number of calories in over a month. His face was gaunt with the shadows under his cheekbones and his eyes competing to be the biggest and darkest. His brown curls hung limply across his forehead, clearly not having been cleaned in quite some time. But the worst part of Peter’s appearance was his eyes. Harley’s gaze locked onto them but all he was met with was a dark pool of nothingness. Not even a hint of sadness, fear or desperation just a hollow emptiness that had Harley’s heart breaking for this poor boy that he barely knew.
“Peter...” Harley whispered, lowering the potato gun in his hands and taking a slow, careful step towards the boy in front of him. “Why are you here?” Harley asked in the same hushed tone.
“ I-I’m sorry, I don’t want to cause you any t-trouble. I-I can be out of h-here t-t-tomorrow, please just let me sleep in your g-garage for the night,” Peter pleaded through chattering teeth, his hands having come down to in front of his chest, twisting themselves together into an anxious knot.
“No!” Harley exclaimed before continuing more calmly, “no, I mean why are you here, in the garage, alone, when we have a warm cosy guest bedroom and food in the house?”
“I didn’t want to put you in danger” Peter replied, his gaze fixated at a spot on the floor between the two boys.
“What’s happened? Why are you in danger?” Harley asked, retightening his grip on his potato gun, readying himself to use it.
“U-uh, well, uh, have you not seen the news?” Peter’s voice had gone up a few tones and his eyebrows had knitted themselves together in an obvious look of confusion.
Harley thinks, “not recently no, I tend to work on the basis that if it’s that important then I’ll find out about it somehow. Why, what’s happened? Is it Avenger related?” Harley asks. He had learnt about Peter’s friendly, neighbourhood alter ego from Morgan (she had certainly inherited her fathers talent of secret-blabbing) when he had met the two of them. If Peter was running from something friendly and neighbourhoodly, then he would have gone to the Avengers Compound which was both closer to New York and held a team of superheroes that could help him instantly. But no, he was here, in the middle of nowhere, with no apparent backup which must mean that the threat had to be something much bigger.
Peter let’s out a long sigh, his whole body seeming to deflate slightly with the action. His vacant eyes flick up to meet Harley’s for a brief moment before in the tiniest of voices he say, “I’m compromised-“ his voice catches and Harley stays silent as Peter clears his throat and says again, “My identity’s been compromised and everyone believes that I’m a supervillain using Stark technology to commit terrorist attacks.”