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it all starts in the lab, of course, as many things do.
harley and peter are having a mindless conversation about zombies and how their ai would respond to something like that, because what else would they talk about, when harley takes a step back and trips over some scrap metal.
peter catches him, pushing him back on his feet and worrying over–something. harley isn’t paying attention.
instead, he laughs. “good boy,” harley praises peter without a second thought, grinning back at the younger teen.
when he looks up, peter is staring, frozen, with a dark blush making its way from his ears to his shoulders. harley blinks.
“uh–th–yep.” peter nods, crossing his arms and looking down, away from harley. harley, who sends a panicked look in tony’s direction as he processes what he just said and peter’s reaction to what he just said.
but the man is blasting music through his dumb wireless earbuds, successfully ignoring the two.
harley takes a breath, counting to ten in his head.
they decide not to bring it up ever again.
—
next time it happens, they aren’t so lucky with the people around them.
it was a playful argument about–not even anything important, peter said something about following rules and, well–
“because you’re such a good boy, aren’t you, peter? you follow all the rules daddy sets, right?”
harley doesn’t think about what he says, sometimes.
so peter is standing directly in front of him, flushing and stuttering out something about “some rules are stupid” and everyone is staring.
tony is the first to say anything.
“please tell me you didn’t just say what i think you just said.”
harley gives him a smile that’s more like a grimace and says, “i’m gonna be straight up with you, tony, i don’t remember exactly what i said, but i don’t think anyone needs reminding.”
sometimes, harley lies.
“well, now, that’s just not true,” natasha calls him out immediately. she looks amused . harley hates her.
“were you calling yourself daddy, or . . . ?” clint asks, looking mildly traumatized.
peter–
peter turns and leaves the room, face in his hands.
harley waves at the crowd of avengers and follows him out, shouting about going to the lab.
he pokes his head back in for a second.
“no, i wasn’t referring to myself, freak.”
—
it happens again when peter comes home from patrol, freshly stabbed, and he’s in the infirmary about to get stitched up.
he’s panicking about the needles, as though he didn’t just have an entire knife in his leg.
“peter,” harley tries to comfort him with a hand on the uninjured thigh, “be a good boy and just let her do your stitches when she comes back, alright? it’ll be over soon.”
of course, friday speaks up within seconds, “peter, your heart rate is spiking. please calm down to avoid bleeding out. would you like me to send some breathing exercises to karen for you?”
harley raises his eyebrows so high he feels like they’re going to fall off and he laughs. “i was trying to calm you down, not make it worse. sorry.”
“it’s not–ugh, it’s not. your fault. i’m just, it’s just, you keep–”
the doctor chooses then to enter and peter promptly shuts up and closes his eyes.
—
they’re in the kitchen this time, eating breakfast. harley hasn’t gotten any sleep, in his defense, so he was feeling a little snippy.
“it’s not even that early, and we’ll be done in like, two hours, harley. you don’t even need coffee, you know it’s bad for you. drink some water, why don’t you?”
harley rolls his eyes as he pours himself a cup of pure energy. “right. you’re such a good boy, peter, drinking your water and eating a healthy breakfast. did you take your avengers vitamins this morning, baby? such a good job, you’re doing so good,” he snarks, not even turning to glance at peter until he hears choking and coughing and–
when harley looks at him, there’s water all over the counter and peter is gasping.
his grumpy attitude quickly turns to concern.
“fuck, peter, are you okay? do you–can you–um.”
let it be known that harley keener doesn’t know what to do in any sort of medical emergency. luckily for him, it isn’t a medical emergency.
“i’m okay! i’m–fuck–i’m fine, i’m fine,” peter rushes to tell him, voice high pitched and a little airy. he takes a deep breath, reaches for the paper towels, and harley starts to laugh.
when pepper comes in five minutes later, peter is still red, and harley is still giggling over his breakfast.
she doesn’t want to know.
—
not even three hours later, peter and harley are sitting in the living room yelling obscenities at each other over a game of mario kart. it ends with harley throwing his controller at the couch and peter catching it without looking.
“oh, good job, peter, your reflexes are great! you’re so good at everything you do. such a good boy!” he says it sarcastically, with a bit of teasing to his tone and–okay, maybe he says it on purpose just to get a reaction. but peter’s reactions are the best!
so when peter turns pink, harley grins and doesn’t say anything.
tony, of course, does.
“gross. not on my couch, keener. i’m starting to think you kids say this shit around me on purpose.”
“do not! i didn’t even realize you were there!”
“that just makes it worse!”
“how does that make it worse?”
“because it means you act like this when you’re alone too and that's really not something i want to know about!”
“you’re the one thinking about it, freak!”
eventually, they drop the topic, realizing peter is no longer in the room.
friday informs them peter ran off to his bedroom about two minutes into the argument.
tony groans, muttering something about needing to fix up someone’s suit in the lab and something about a meeting?
well, whatever.
—
the very next day, it happens once again. this time, they’re both already expecting it.
“could you hand me my charger, peter?”
when the cord lands in his hand, harley looks up, grinning like an idiot. “thanks–you know, i know i joke about it a lot, but you really are such a good boy, peter.”
peter doesn’t blush, but harley hears a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the room.
“fuck, tell me again why don’t you?”
harley’s laughter drifts nearly clear down the hall, and peter is almost thankful nobody is at this level of the tower right now.
“tell you what, exactly?” harley asks, teasing.
“tell me how good i am, daddy.”
this time, harley’s the one who chokes.