Archive of Our Own

If this were to have happened when he was fifteen, Peter would have been mortified.

The whole thing would have been complicated—Peter knew Tony, sure, but they weren’t really close, and the internship had been nothing but a cover story. Nobody believed him about having the fake internship in the first place, so the entire ordeal would have consisted of being teased and taunted the very second that he had no proof of working at Stark Industries while standing in the damn building.

But he’s not fifteen. He’s seventeen, working through his senior year at Midtown, an actual intern and living in Stark Tower, and he’s… actually kind of looking forward to this.

“I know,” Mr. Harrington says, trying to talk over the uproar of voices in the room, but no one pays him any mind. “This is very exciting. Please, lower your volume so I can go over the details.”

Harley, sitting to Peter’s left, leans in until their shoulders brush together, whispering, “Do you think Tony set this up on purpose?” He doesn’t sound stressed or anything—more amused than anything else, and a little bit curious. Peter hums, glances over to meet Harley’s gaze and crunches up his nose as he responds with a solemn nod. Harley huffs a light laugh and doesn’t lean back, instead leaning in even more until their arms to pressed together. It’s a simple little gesture. Peter absolutely adores it.

It takes a few minutes for Mr. Harrington to gather the attention of the class once more, and only then does he pick up a stack of papers from his desk and start to hand them out. “These are your permission forms,” he states. “Obviously, anyone who is currently eighteen may sign the forms themselves and turn them back in today, but for the rest of you, a parent or guardian must sign and the form must be turned in to me by the end of the day Friday. There is no fee for your families to cover—it’s already been taken care of. All you need to bring is yourself and either a packed lunch or money to pay for food.”

Peter takes his permission slip and looks over it curiously. Right at the top, in big bold letters, it says STARK INDUSTRIES, followed by a blurb explaining the in depth tour that Midtown will be getting of the building, as well as a bullet point list of things to bring and things to avoid bringing.

Mr. Harrington hands Harley a form, and then pauses. “You two talk a lot of your… relationship with Stark Industries,” he says slowly, brows pinched.

“You mean how we work for Tony and also live in the tower?” Peter offers.

“Or how Tony and Pepper are my legal guardians?” Harley adds, a cheesy grin on his face.

“Hm. Yes.” Mr. Harrington nods thoughtfully, tilts his head to the side, then looks back at the two of them with something hopeful and a little sheepish in his eyes. “I’m not going to ask for special treatment, as I have a feeling we’re already getting it by having SI reach out to us in the first place, but… senior year fieldtrips are important. They’re a send-off celebration before you graduate. If there’s anything you two can try to do, with your connections or your knowledge of the building or whatever, to make this an especially great one… I would appreciate it.” He falters a moment longer, as if debating whether or not to say more, before nodding to himself curtly and moving on to pass out the rest of the forms.

Peter hums, thinking Mr. Harrington’s words over for a moment and finding that he’s kind of on board. Being the center of attention is his worst nightmare, and there isn’t really anything he can think of that won’t result in most of his class being aware of his and Harley’s involvement, but it’s not like their connection with Tony and Stark Industries is a secret. Sure, a good half of the school still doesn’t believe it, no matter what evidence Peter or Harley provide—including literal video evidence of them hanging out with Tony, which they’ve shown plenty of times upon request—but the other rest of the school seems to believe them. Plus, like Mr. Harrington said, it’s their senior year fieldtrip. They graduate in June, only two and a half months away, and then… they’re done. Midtown will be a thing of the past.

He turns towards Harley, brows furrowed together, and finds Harley already looking back at him with a small smile and a look in his eyes that makes it clear he’s already got a list of ideas. Peter grins.

Looks like they’re on the same page.

-

-

-

“Did you do this?” Harley asks, shoving the permission form under Tony’s nose.

Tony, who was in the middle of reading through some emails on his Stark Pad, blinks once before leaning back and frowning down at the paper. “Probably,” he murmurs, then scans over the words. Quickly, his features shift into something mischievous and pleased. “Oh. Right. Yes, that was me.”

“Knew it,” Harley says. “Sign it, please.”

Peter drops his backpack onto the floor and swipes up a granola bar, quickly unwrapping it and shoving half of the damn thing in his mouth. As he’s chewing, he says, “Y’know, we got asked to pull some strings for this field trip. Make it special for the seniors.”

“Oh, it’ll be special, alright,” Tony says ominously, chuckling to himself as he fishes through Harley’s backpack for a pen, holding it up victoriously once he’s got it in hand and then quickly signing Harley’s permission form. “Pepper and I have been talking about this since summer. We’ve got the best tour possible set up and ready to go.”

Narrowing his eyes, Peter points at Tony and says, “Don’t embarrass us.”

Tony scoffs. “Me? Embarrassing? Pete, I’m too cool to do anything embarrassing.”

“So when you pissed yourself in your suit—”

“Why is that your go to?” Tony interrupts, exasperated. “Every time, that’s the one you bring up. For your information, I was dying of poisoning and thought I’d be a goner in less than two months. People don’t do rational things during a time like that, alright?”

Peter smirks while Harley muffles a laugh into his palm. “It’s a memorable video.”

Sighing, Tony asks, “There’s a video?”

“You never saw it?” Harley questions. “I saw it, Tony. Everyone saw it. I was, like, 10, but I still saw it.”

Waving a hand, Tony says, “There’s a lot of videos of me out there. I don’t track them down or anything. There’s not enough time in the day. Now!” He claps his hands together, brightening and looking hopeful for a good topic change. “I want to finish the engine for Peter’s car. You two in?”

Technically, they have homework, but as they meet eyes curiously, a silent agreement passes between them. It’s homework for a class that they share, and if they work on it together, they can get it done in half the time later tonight. “Sure,” Harley says. Tony does a little cheer and hops to his feet, his emails completely forgotten as he leads the way to the elevator.

They’ve all three got engine grease smeared up to their elbows, about an hour and a half later, when Peter’s phone starts to ring in his bag across the room. Peter looks up, then looks down at his hands. “Um. Friday? Can you connect to me phone and see who’s calling me real quick?”

“Of course, Mr. Parker,” Friday responds. Then: “Miles Morales is trying to reach you.”

“Oh. Um, can you answer it? Please?”

There’s a lapse of quiet, and then Miles’ voice echoes throughout the lab. “Peter?”

Peter turns his attention back to the pieces of the engine that he had been fiddling with. “Hey, Miles. What’s up?”

For a moment, Miles doesn’t respond, for just long enough that Peter finds himself freezing once again and looking up at the ceiling in concern. And then, rushed out and jumbled all together, Miles suddenly says, “I need advice but it’s stupid and embarrassing so I need you to promise not to be weird about it!”

Peter blinks. Looks at Harley, who is already looking at him with a furrowed brow. “What’s going on?”

“I—” Miles cuts off with a sharp intake, and then he lets it out in a heavy, somewhat shaky sigh. Tony is looking up, too, at this point, concern pinching his features. Peter pulls his hands back from the engine altogether and reaches for a rag, beginning to wipe himself off, just in case this call leads to him needing to leave. When Miles speaks back up, it’s with a lilt of nervousness to his words. “I just… I was—I was texting Dylan, right? Like normal, whatever, and—and—”

“You’re making me nervous, Miles,” Harley speaks up. “What happened?”

If Miles is surprised about Harley being on the line, he doesn’t give any hints about it, just huffing out a small groan. “Nothing! Or, I don’t—it might be nothing. It might be something, too, though, and—I don’t know. I’m probably overthinking it but I don’t—I just wanted advice, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agrees easily, trying not to let his worry be obvious in his tone. “Talk to us, Miles. It’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Miles breathes. “Okay. I, um—I was texting Dylan, and he—we’ve hung out before, right? Like, outside of school, but it’s always been with Ellie, and sometimes Anna comes along, too, and it’s—it’s fine. It’s fun, But he just—we were talking about hanging out this weekend? Like, not doing anything specifically, just hanging out, and we were thinking of things to do, and he—he said he wanted to go out somewhere. Like, to get lunch, or dinner. And just—just with me. Only me.”

Those words hang over the room for a long moment. Tony’s lips twitch up and he leans back, clearly amused, looking at Harley and Peter expectantly, eyebrows quirking in a way that says, well, what now, geniuses? Peter ignores Tony’s look in favor for meeting eyes with Harley once again, both of them clearly contemplating how to respond—and it’s Harley who does so first, words tentative as he offers, “Like, as friends, or as a date?”

There’s a thud on the other end of the line, followed by a whiny groan. “I don’t know!” Miles exclaims. “That’s why I need advice! Do I—I don’t know, ask him if it’s a—a—d-date? I don’t want to assume but he didn’t say and it sounds like it could be but what if it isn’t and I look like an idiot thinking that it might be and then he ends up hating me because I have a stupid crush on him and—”

“Breathe, Miles,” Peter cuts in, a little bit amused but also feeling a pang in his chest at the genuine anxiety twisting up each and every syllable coming from Miles’ mouth. “We’ll figure this out.”

Miles takes in an audible, gasping sort of breath, then lets it out shakily. “Right. Yeah. Okay. What should I—What should I do? What do I say?”

It takes some thinking—and some back and forth debate between Harley and Peter, who are trying to think of the best solution in the quickest amount of time—but eventually, they land on this:

“So, I’ll text him,” Miles says, sounding a lot less stressed than he had ten minutes prior. “And I’ll ask if it’s a date, but if he reacts—weirdly, or whatever, I’ll say I was just joking so that it doesn’t mess with our friendship, and—” He stops for a second, sounding like he doesn’t particularly like this part, but knows that it’s the right thing to do. “And,” he goes on, “if Dylan reacts really badly, then maybe it’s a sign that he isn’t the person I thought he was, and I’ll just… maybe not be friends with him anymore.”

“Which I doubt will happen,” Peter says. “Because he seems like a really sweet kid, and he obviously has no problems with Ellie and Anna being together. But, you deserve better, if he does end up doing that.”

Miles lets out another shaky breath. “Okay. I’m—I’m gonna text him.”

Harley asks, “Do you want us to stay on the line while you wait for him to respond?”

It sounds like Miles is considering it judging by the way he hums, but ultimately, he responds, “No, I—I need to do some homework and stuff, and he might not answer for a while. I’ll let you know what happens, though.”

“Okay.” Peter props his hands up on his hips and looks back at the car engine, which Tony has been silently working on while Harley and Peter talked Miles through his panic. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Miles says—and then the call drops.

-

-

-

Harley shoves his phone under Peter’s nose when they’re halfway through their own homework a few hours later. Peter jerks his head back in shock, then leans forward again to read the message on screen. It’s from Miles, and all it says, in all capital letters, is, IT’S A DATE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Peter snorts. “I knew Dylan liked him back.”

“He’s thirteen,” Harley comments, pulling his phone back and frowning down at it. “Doesn’t feel like he should be going on any dates yet. Like, isn’t that too young?”

Shrugging, Peter says, “I mean, I was fourteen when I became Spider-Man.”

“That’s a totally different thing, babe.”

“People grow at their own pace.”

“Okay, but I need to know that you know that there’s no correlation there. Like, going on a first date and becoming a teenage vigilante are not even remotely similar. Literally at all. Peter, honey, I need you to tell me you understand that. No, don’t go back to the homework—Peter, I swear to god—”

-

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-

“I just think that it’s bullshit,” Harry tells them, the weekend before the field trip.

Flash frowns at him. “Why?”

Harry glares at Flash like the answer is obvious. “Because it sounds fun, and where will I be, huh? Sitting through another eight hours of forced training with my stupid fucking father for a company I want nothing to do with. It’s bullshit.”

“Don’t go to the training,” Michelle says, popping a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

Harry snorts. “It’s not that simple.”

Michelle looks at him, quirks a brow and asks, “Did you sign a contract that requires you to go through all of this training?”

“No…?”

“Well,” she says, “I don’t see the problem, then. I mean, you turned eighteen in November. You’re not contractually obligated to be there. He can’t make you stay if you don’t want to.”

For a moment, Harry considers her words, something sour on his features yet something contemplative in his eyes. Flash speaks up then, pointing out, “You left that New Years Eve Gala, remember? He didn’t even notice you left until the next day.”

“This is different,” Harry argues, before puffing out a sigh and sinking back into the couch cushion, looking down at where he’s gripping onto Flash’s hand. “I’ll think about it, though.”

“The field trip would be better if you were there,” Flash adds.

Harry glances at him and barely suppresses a smile. “I just said I’d think about it.”

Flash grins at him. “Good.”

-

-

-

The game plan is this:

Miles has his date with Dylan on Friday after school. That same Friday is the day of the senior field trip, which isn’t supposed to be over until after school gets out due to how extensive of a tour is set up, meaning that Peter and Harley, or any of the other senior’s, can be the chauffeur, even though they all made it clear that they would like to be, much to Miles’ embarrassment.

“I’ll do it,” Tony says, overhearing the gaggle of teens as they discuss it over their homework. A silence settles over the group, each of them turning to look at Tony incredulously. Tony frowns. “What? I’m not going on the tour. I’m only needed for part of it—I can leave early enough to drive around the twerps.”

“Don’t you have a billion dollar company to run?” Harley asks sarcastically.

Tony rolls his eyes. “I’m doing it. Where are the little idiots going for their date?”

So, Tony becomes part of the conversation and the planning—because the seniors refuse to not be a part of this somehow. Peter and Harley refuse to sit to the side and wait to hear about how it went after the fact. What if something happens during the date and Miles needs them? What if Dylan turns out to be an asshole in disguise and they need to be there to pick up the pieces? Dylan doesn’t seem like the type to cause a mess like that, but Peter’s been fooled by people before.

“You’re being overprotective,” Michelle tells them.

Peter frowns at her. “Are you not gonna come with us?”

“Oh, no, I’ll definitely be there. That’s my nephew.”

Ned high fives her. They continue to iron out the plan until it’s perfect—they’ll go on their field trip, Tony will pick up Miles and Dylan from school and take them to the restaurant that Dylan’s mom helped make a reservation at and Tony will wait in the car while they’re on the date itself. As soon as their field trip is over, Happy will drive all the seniors from the tower to the restaurant to join Tony in keeping an eye on things through the windows, just in case.

“We might be going overboard here,” Harley points out, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly as he seems to realize exactly what they’re planning to do. “I mean, we’re basically spying on him.”

Peter thinks Harley might be kind of right, but he offers, “We’ll just stop by for, like, ten minutes, then. Just to check in and see how things are going. If everything looks okay, Happy can bring us back to the tower to wait until Tony brings Miles back after dropping Dylan off.”

Harley considers this, then nods and says, “Alright, yeah. That seems more reasonable.”

“None of this is reasonable,” Harry grumbles.

“Shut up, You’re still not even sure if you’re gonna be there.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Think faster.”

-

-

-

There are whispers when the entire senior class floods through the entrance of Stark Tower and sees their little group of friends already waiting inside. Some of the teachers do a double take, part their lips as if ready to ask questions they theoretically should already know the answers to, but Mr. Harrington just approaches them with a warm smile and asks, “Where do we go from here?”

Miss Anderson, standing a few feet back, looks baffled about Mr. Harrington asking their students rather than an employee, but Harley just spins around and points towards the right side of the lobby. “Tony said to meet our tour guides at the scanners. He said it’d be obvious who it is once we got there.”

“Intriguing,” Mr. Harrington comments, then gestures forward. “Lead the way.”

Harley latches on Peter’s hand and the two of them guide the gaggle of Midtown students towards the scanners. Ned flanks Peter’s side while Michelle and Flash flank Harley’s. Flash has his phone out and is frowning down at the screen—texting Harry, it seems, asking if he’s planning to show up or not. Students peer at the five that are leading the way, some with awe—those are the ones who believe the things that get shared—and some with blatant confusion, who clearly always thought it was a lie.

When they reach the security scanners, Happy is standing there with a bin filled to the brim with ID’s, labeled in alphabetical order. Peter grins at him and waves with his free hand, as if the two of them didn’t eat breakfast together with May a mere thirty minutes ago. Happy rolls his eyes, though his lips twitch up, just slightly. His voice comes out loud and clear as he turns towards the students and the faculty, saying, “Welcome, Midtown High, to Stark Industries. I am Happy Hogan, and I am not your tour guide. I’m the head of security here at SI, and I’m here to make sure everyone gets a tour badge and goes through the security scanners. Your tour guides are waiting for you on the other side.” Then, looking at the five teens up front with something mischievous in his eyes, he says, “I was instructed to make sure you guys go through the scanners last. Back of the line.”

Harley splutters. “What? Why—”

But Happy just juts his chin in a handless gesture. “I’m following instructions, Keener. Back of the line.”

It doesn’t make sense, and Harley looks like he’s about to protest some more, but Peter just rolls his eyes and uses their linked hands to tug Harley behind him as they move to the back end of the Midtown crowd. Harley grumbles under his breath, but otherwise seems fine with it, getting caught up in the chatter of his friends a moment later. They’re throwing theories out there about what Tony and Pepper have planned. No matter how many times they each asked, no one was able to get any answers.

Flash is mid-sentence when he feels a hand on his hip, and he jumps at the breath that suddenly gusts over his ear, only to immediately relax at the familiar voice asking, “Did I miss anything yet?”

Harry looks smug when Flash spins around to face him fully. “You jackass!” Flash exclaims, swatting at Harry’s shoulder, though it’s all paired with the most elated expression humanly possible painted over his face. “You said you couldn’t make it!”

“Eh,” Harry shrugs. “I figured it out.”

Ned lets out a wistful sigh and turns to Michelle. “Do you realize that we’re the lonely ones here?”

“I’m not lonely,” Michelle tells him, a small frown pulling at her lips.

“Okay, but we’re the single ones. We’re friends with two of the most adorable relationships I’ve ever seen in all of existence. And that includes my moms! And my moms are very cute!”

Michelle considers this. Then, with a decisive nod, she tells him, “Our time will come.” Ned perks up at that, as if all he needed was the reassurance. Not that he was genuinely distressed in the first place, but the words seem to bring him a comfort that he might have needed anyway.

“Don’t call me adorable,” Harry tells Ned. “I’m not adorable.”

Someone standing in front of the group in line murmurs, not very quietly, “Is that Harry Osborn?” Because, of course, Harry may not be famous, per se, but Midtown is a school of nerds who tend to keep up to date with the companies they hope to work for some day, and there’s been some coverage recently, ever since Normal did an interview where he mentioned that he was training his son to take over Oscorp one day. Harry’s had to deny a few interviews himself, now that he’s eighteen and the press are able to reach out to him without having to go through the loopholes it takes to reach a minor.

Harry scowls as multiple heads swivel around to look at him. He looks at Flash and says, “I already regret this.” But Flash just smiles at him and it makes something in Harry’s features soften. A bit quieter, he adds, “Only a little bit. Just… the public part of it.”

“Ignore them,” Flash says. “You’re here to hang out with friends. Fuck everyone else.”

“I’m here to see you,” Harry corrects. “Hanging out with friends is just a bonus.”

“Hey,” Peter complains, a faux pout forming on his lips, though it’s obvious through the fond look in his eyes that he’s not really upset. He’s happy, seeing his friends happy. “That’s just rude, Osborn.”

The line moves forward, Some people are still staring—a couple flashes go off as a few of them try to sneakily grab a few pictures—but they all just ignore it. Instead, they fill up their time with random conversation, more theories about the tour to come, and excited speculation about how Miles’ date with Dylan is going to go later today. They’re not paying attention to the line, only moving up when they’re supposed to, but soon enough they’ve reached the scanners. Happy doesn’t look surprised about Harry joining them, just greeting him with a nod and a pleasant, “Osborn,” before reaching into the mostly empty bin and fishing out the last of the ID cards.

“Why’d we have to go to the back?” Harley asks, frowning.

“Here are your cards,” Happy tells them, ignoring Harley’s question entirely, which Harley looks very miffed about. He passes each of them a card, including Harry, and watches with mirthful eyes as they all turn them over to see the front. Immediately, Ned is letting out a peel of laughter, Michelle is rolling her eyes, Harry ugly snorts, Flash splutters, while Harley and Peter look up to meet each other’s eyes. Silently, they hold up their cards and turn them around for the other to see.

Peter’s card consists of a photo taken when he was fifteen and his real internship was first started. He’s in the lab, though the background is blurred, and there’s grease in his hair, making it stick up in random directions. Some of it is smeared across his face, too. He looks like a mad scientist, but is grinning like a little kid on Christmas. Where his name is supposed to be, it says, PARKER-KEENER.

Harley’s has a picture from when he was twelve, around the time he first met Tony. In it, he’s standing in front of his car that Tony gifted him, grinning so widely it looks like it hurt. “My Ma took that picture,” Harley murmurs, glancing at his own badge before looking at Peter’s, a fondness in his gaze as he takes in the picture. Where Harley’s name is supposed to be, it reads, KEENER-PARKER.

Peter snorts. “Does Tony think we’re secretly married or something?”

“Probably,” Harley responds, rolling his eyes. He leans forward, takes in Peter’s picture more closely and brings up a hand to run a fingertip across it. When he pulls back, there’s a big, cheesy smile on his face. “You look adorable in that picture. A total mess, but very cute.”

“You look like an infant,” Peter muses. Harley huffs out a laugh, and they turn to look at the rest of their friends badges. Flash’s has a picture from Halloween, the first night he ever hung out with their group. In it, Flash is completely passed out on the floor, the remnants of his Tony Stark costume askew, drawn on goatee totally smudged and mouth open, most likely letting out snores. Flash looks mortified by it, but Harry coos over it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Ned’s badge has a photo from the first day Peter ever brought him to the tower. It’s clearly a snapshot taken from security footage and zoomed in, but in it, Ned is wide eyed and his jaw is dropped. There’s a flush to his face and clear excitement in his eyes. Ned looks proud of his badge—clips it to his shirt with a grin. Michelle’s just has her school photo, but instead of her name, it says MINI PEPPER. She apparently approves, nodding her head once before clipping it onto her shirt as well. Harry’s has the selfies that he took with Tony on Halloween night—the one he insisted would piss his dad off. In it, Harry has perfect make up on and a wide, toothy grin, and Tony looks thoroughly amused. Harry grins at the selfie, looking like the stress of people gawking at him has melted away.

Happy watches all of their reactions for a moment before rolling his eyes and interrupting them, saying, “Your entire senior class is waiting for you idiots. Scan the badges and go.”

One by one, they step through the security scanner, and Friday announces their names loud and proud to the gaggle of Midtown students who are already looking back at them—and all of their customized badges—with wonder and curiosity. Happy follows after them, then manages to scoot around the crowd to get to the front and claps his hands to gather everybody’s attention. “Alright,” he says, once everyone has quieted down and is looking at him. “Your badges are your key to traveling throughout the building. The tower’s AI, Friday, knows the route this tour will be taking and when people should be where, so if you try to use your badge to wander off, Friday will know and will alert security—meaning me. You’ll sit at the security desk until the tour is over. Everyone understand?”

He gets a collection of ‘yes’s and head nods. That appears to be good enough.

“Good. Now, you guys are very, very lucky. Thanks to the fact that there a few people in your grade who have a connection to Stark Industries and with Tony himself, strings have been pulled and a very special tour has been figured out. Usually, we have a team of interns and employees who lead the tours, but Tony figured you guys might someone more exciting. Dr. Banner?”

Bruce has been back for a few months now—the first month being kept from the public eye, as he slowly adjusted to being back on Earth again. He didn’t hesitate to accept the floor of the tower that Tony offered him, while Thor and Loki opted to go to the compound for something more peaceful. After that first month back, Tony held a press conference, once Bruce had assured that he was ready, announcing the return of Dr. Banner—and, in turn, the return of Hulk.

Ever since then, Bruce has been working with Tony to become part of SI, and now, as he steps out from around the corner with a sheepish smile and to the sound of many, many excited teenage cheers, he’s head of a few departments and seems like his time is space is a thing of the past.

Peter grins. Harley’s hand tightens around Peter’s, while Ned lets out an excited gasp. Harry and Flash share a look, whereas Michelle just seems pleased. They’ve all kind of grown attached to Bruce—the guy is pretty introverted and quiet, but he’s smart, and he thinks the teens are funny at times. Overall, Bruce is very sweet and gentle and kind, and their little friend group is kind of obsessed with him.

“Hi,” Bruce says, his smile a little tense and awkward, but his eyes bright as he takes in the abundance of faces that are all looking back at him in excitement. “I’m Bruce. I’ll be showing you around today.” A scattering of whispers erupts, but they quickly quiet when Bruce speaks up again, saying, “I won’t be leading this tour by myself, though. As I’m assuming you guys know, I haven’t, uh… have not been back for very long, and don’t feel entirely equipped to handle this on my own. So, I asked my very dear friend to accompany me, who is much more well versed in this company and how it runs. If you’d please welcome Miss Pepper Potts!”

Another eruption of noise as Pepper turns the corner, her baby bump just barely visible with her perfectly fit pant suit. She smiles at the large group of teens, her eyes searching through the crowd until her gaze lands on the six of them in the back. Her smile warms at the sight of them. Harley beams back at her and Peter waves—she doesn’t hesitate to wave back at him, drawing the attention of the group, many kids turning to see where she’s looking and becoming visibly more confused than they were before.

They don’t get a chance to linger on it, however, as Pepper is quick to clap her hands together to draw everyone’s attention. “Hello, Midtown!” she greets, grin wide and features open and warm. Various students call out hello’s, which makes her grin widen. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

-

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-

The tour appears to be totally normal and innocent for the first hour and a half.

Peter hasn’t explored the lower parts of the building unless necessary, mostly out of fear of being questioned about who he is and why he’s there. Harley, on the other hand, has made a habit of coming down about once a week to look through the labs and see what’s being worked on. The first time he ever came down might have been interrupted with the whole… people breaking into Stark Tower, trying to put together a bomb only for it to go off too soon and Harley kind of getting his ass beat in the process, but—oh well, right? He wasn’t seriously injured. Peter was in worse shape than he had been after jumping into the fight while still healing from that Chitauri gun. Despite the whole thing going wrong, Harley insisted on going down to visit again, and then again, and then it became a regular thing.

So, people working in the labs recognize Harley. When the classes are set free to wander and ask questions to employees (with some very specific rules to follow, of course), a lot of workers greet Harley by name, then look at where Harley’s holding on to Peter, look up at Peter, and ask, “This is him?” with something very knowing and very amused in their eyes.

“You talk about me that much?” Peter asks, once they’ve done rounds in the third lab they’ve visited and are now standing off in the corner, watching the rest of their class mingle with employees.

Harley uses his free hand at scratch at the back of his neck, looking away with a sheepish little smile. “Maybe. Not on purpose, just… I don’t know. Conversation happens and you happen to come up.”

Peter grins at him. “Aw. Cute.”

“Whatever,” Harley grumbles, rolling his eyes, but he squeezes Peter’s hand and can’t even pretend to fight off his smile when Peter’s squeezes back.

The class heads towards their fourth destination, which is their last one before heading off to lunch, according to Bruce. Despite what Tony said, the only special thing that’s happened is Bruce and Pepper leading the tour. Peter’s just starting to wonder if this is all there’s going to be—when they’re lead into one of the rooms used for press conferences, and lined up on the stage is the Avengers.

Peter sighs wearily. “Great.”

“Great,” Harley agrees, but he sounds like he actually means it and leads their friend group to the very front row. Peter follows, purposefully avoiding the various eyes that are undoubtedly on them, and he huffs out a half-laugh when, after sitting down, Harley leans into him and murmurs, “Don’t stress about nothing. Have fun with it. If you’re gonna be a buzzkill, I’m going to sit by Ned instead.”

And it’s not that Peter isn’t having fun with it—honestly, the tour hasn’t been super eventful, but it’s been pleasant and has made him consider joining Harley on his weekly trips down to the labs—but his hearing keeps picking up on the whispers of their peers, who keep staring at their friend group and mumbling to themselves random and ridiculous theories about what makes them so special. He has a feeling that having the literal Avengers here is going to result in his senior class finding out that him and his friends also know the team of superheroes, and that’s just going to draw even more attention.

Harry seems to be the only one who hates the attention as much as Peter does—he keeps looking over his shoulder and frowning at the various people who not-to-subtly duck their heads in order to not be caught staring. Peter meets his eyes and offers an understanding smile. Harry returns it, a barely there twitch to his lips, and then turns his focus back onto Flash, who’s leaning against his shoulder with a grin.

There’s an excited murmur crossing over the room, all of the teenagers looking up at the Avengers in anticipation and excitement. It only ramps up when Tony steps out onto the stage, making his way up to the podium where there’s a microphone set up. Midtown bursts into cheers and excited exclamations as he comes to a stop behind the microphone, taking off his sunglasses and offering a press worthy smile. Leaning in, he taps the microphone twice to make sure it’s on, then says, “Oh, good, you can hear me. Hello, Midtown, and welcome to Stark Tower! How’s your tour going so far?”

Another eruption of noise, people cheering and letting out excited whoops! Peter rolls his eyes and slumps in his seat a bit, pitching to the side to rest his head on Harley’s shoulder and peering up to watch as Tony huffs out a laugh and holds out his hands to quiet the crowd.

“Good, good,” he says. “Alright. Well, as I’m sure you’ve been told, your guys’ tour is a bit more special than most of the ones we give, since some of our favorite young adults happen to be your peers.” He pointedly looks down at Peter and Harley, then sweeps his eyes across the rest of their friends, quirking a brow. “I won’t say who. I’m sure you already know. However, because of that, we decided to set up this little… Q&A, I suppose? As you can see, I’ve got some of my friends here—” he gestures behind him, where the Avengers are all sitting. They offer small smiles and gentle waves. “There’s a microphone out there somewhere—ah, Pepper has it—she’ll come around to people who raise their hand. For the next… hour-ish, I suppose, we’ll just have a nice conversation, and then send you on your way to lunch.”

Thankfully, the questions that get asked are actual questions that pertain to the people on stage—Peter is glad to not be involved in it, instead just snickering as the people he has come to think of as an extended family tell stories and quickly quipped jokes, making the large group of teens laugh. At least, Peter isn’t involved in it until someone in the back asks, “What’s your favorite thing that’s happened recently?”

“Oh, I’m going first,” Sam says, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. His gaze flickers down to meet Peter’s, and instantly, Peter knows his peace is over. “Genius intern number one down there,” Sam says, pointing down at Peter, then at Harley, “And his little boyfriend, genius intern number two—”

Harley frowns up at Sam. “Why am I number two?”

“Peter was Tony’s intern first,” Sam tells him.

“But I knew Tony before Peter did!”

“Stop interrupting me, Tennessee,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, like, a week ago, I was leaving the gym and decided to stop by Tony’s lab to ask about an update to my suit, and there they were, the rugrats, working on this bot that they’ve been building with their illegitimate child. They won’t tell anyone what it is, what it does, or what it’s for—they only work on it when no one else is around. When I got to the lab, they hadn’t noticed me yet, too focused on their bot, but I decided to try and see what the damn thing is, and I get pretty close, too—just in time for the entire thing to break in half and send oil everywhere.  It got in my mouth, okay? It was awful, but it was so worth it when I looked at those two. It looked like they had showered in the stuff. I had Friday send me the clip. It’s glorious.”

Tony spins around to look at Sam with an excited expression. “Send that to me.”

Sam grins. “Friday?”

“On it, Mister Wilson.”

Of course, now that Peter and Harley have been directly addressed, the questions start to involve them a little bit more. Someone that Peter remembers doing a biology problem with a few years back gets the chance to ask the next question, and they ask, “How long have you known them?”

There’s no need to specify who they mean by them.

Tony considers this for a moment. “Well, I met Harley when the kid was twelve. Peter I met when he was fourteen—he became my intern pretty shortly after, and then Harley moved up here about a year ago and became my second intern. Ned and Michelle, I met when Peter finally brought them over. Thompson and Osborn only just joined their merry group of misfits back in October, which is when I met them.”

A lot of people are looking at them now. Peter just turns his head to bury his face into Harley’s shoulder and pretend there aren’t any stares. Harley rests his cheek on top of Peter’s head and doesn’t comment on the fact that Peter is very obviously hiding right now, just lets him tuck his face away and rolls his eyes at the way Tony looks down and scrunches up his nose at them. It seems like Tony understands what Peter’s doing, though—and, more importantly, why he’s doing it, as he quickly steers the questions back on track and does his best to leave the six of them out of it. That doesn’t stop the looks and the whispering, but it offers just a little bit of peace.

“Think about it this way,” Harley murmurs to him. “We’re about to be the coolest kids in school.”

Peter snorts. “Only two months away from graduation and I’m finally considered cool.”

“Better late than never,” Harley muses. He turns his head a bit until his nose is buried in Peter’s hair, the two of them in their own little bubble—unaware of the stares, of the fact that one of their classmates is sitting two rows back and actively cooing at how cute they are. “I always thought you were cool, though.”

“That’s cheesy, Harley.”

“It’s true,” Harley insists. “Tony mentioned you for the first time and my first thought was, wow, that guy seems cool, I hope I meet him one day. And then I did, and you were even cooler than I thought.” A small smile quirks the corners of the mouth as he adds, “I mean, you’re totally lame, too, and the biggest nerd I’ve literally ever met—but you’re still cool.”

Huffing out a laugh, Peter lifts his head to give Harley an unimpressed look. “You flatter me.”

Harley grins at him, cheeks dimpling. “I try my best, babe.”

-

-

-

They tour the gyms, get a sneak peak into some of the higher level labs—not Tony’s lab, though, because Tony’s lab is also Peter’s lab and Harley’s lab and Miles’ lab and the three of them unanimously decided that they didn’t want a bunch of high schoolers poking around their projects—and get to eat whatever they want from the main employee cafeteria for free. And there’s some damn good food there.

With about an hour left in their tour, Michelle checks the time and says, “Oh, school just got out.”

Which means Tony is at Midtown right now, prepared to pick up Miles and Dylan. Peter and Harley share a wide eyed, semi-nervous look. Softly, Peter asks, “Do you think this is gonna go well?”

“Dylan seems sweet,” Harley reminds him, though his own nerves are just as obvious. “And if he secretly isn’t, we’ll beat him up or something.”

“He’s fourteen,” Ned points out. “I don’t think a bunch of seniors are allowed to beat up a fourteen year old. Especially since most of us are eighteen. That’d be a legal adult beating up a minor.”

Peter shrugs. “Harley and I aren’t eighteen yet.”

“Okay, but you’re—” Ned stops, looks at Harry for a moment as if having to remind himself that not all of them are aware of Peter’s vigilante side. After a second or two of thinking, Ned cautiously goes on with, “You’re… at an advantage. Being so much older and bigger than him.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “I was joking. We won’t beat him up. We’ll just… we’ll make sure Miles is okay.”

Everyone nods, easily on board with that, hoping for the best as they continue the tour.

-

-

-

Their last stop for the day is in an emptied out lab, where they set aside thirty minutes to have a competition where people pair up and have to build something using only the provided scraps of materials. It’s a simple activity for a bunch of STEM students, but they have fun with it, some kids building practical little wind mills and bots, others creating the oddest little monstrosities ever seen before. There’s no winner, no ranking of who did best—it’s just something to stretch their creativity and see what they can so, and in the end, everyone has a good time with it.

(Peter sees Pepper taking notes at one point, clearly keeping an eye out for potential future employees. He keeps this little fact to himself and wonders how many of his high school peers are going to become his coworkers one day. The thought doesn’t make him as uncomfortable as he thought it might.)

As soon as the tour is declared over and the senior class is lead back to the busses, save the six of them, thanks to all of their guardians making it clear that they were allowed to remain at Stark Tower after the field trip ended, they scramble over to the security office. There, Happy sits, clearly on his lunch break judging by the footlong sandwich he’s chowing down—but he takes one look at them, looks forlornly down at his food, and then wraps it up with a sigh. “Remind me where they’re at?”

“That one Italian place May and I showed you,” Peter says, bouncing on his feet a bit as Happy gets to his feet and swipes up his keys. “The one with the really, really good garlic bread.”

Happy nods his understanding and leads the way through the building and into the parking garage, where they all climb into one of the larger SUV’s. He falters before turning the key in the ignition. “And why am I taking six teenagers to snoop on a thirteen year old’s first date?”

Harley says, “Just to make sure it’s going okay. Ten minutes, then we’ll leave.”

“And you’re not trusting Tony to keep you updated because…?”

“His only successful relationship is the one he has with Pepper,” Michelle states.

Happy considers that, then nods. “Yeah, fair enough. Buckle up.”

It’s not a very long drive, in retrospect, but it feels like forever. By the time they pull up to the curb outside of the restaurant, both Peter and Harley are practically vibrating out of their skin with anticipation. Ned watches on in an anxious amusement, just as nervous as them but without the weird teenage fatherly bond that they have with Miles to add onto it. Michelle only looks on with mild interest. Flash and Harry are sitting in the far back and, upon Peter taking a second look, are fast asleep leaning against each other.

He snaps a picture of them before he forgets, and then he presses himself to the car window to peer through the windows of the restaurant, searching for a familiar face. “Do you see them?”

“No,” Harley murmurs, shoulder to shoulder with Peter and scanning over every single person. After a moment, he perks up. “There!” he points. “In the corner!”

Sure enough, when Peter follows where Harley’s pointing to, he finds an adorable sight. Miles and Dylan, sitting across from each other, Dylan with a bright red blush on his face and Miles with a sheepish little grin. They both look nervous, but they also look like they’re enjoying themselves. Peter watches for a moment, before questioning, “Should I listen in? Just, like, see what they’re talking about?”

Harley shakes his head. “That might be going too far, I think.” Then, softer, he adds, “They look like they’re having a good time. Like, a really good time.” Peter nods in agreement, and for a few short minutes, they just sit together and watch fondly as their pseudo son laughs at something Dylan says. Harley rests his head on Peter’s shoulder, then asks, “Why haven’t we had a date here yet?”

“We’re not really a go on dates kind of couple,” Peter points out. “I mean, we’ve been on a few official dates, I guess—like when you took me to dinner for my birthday—but… I like just spending time with you. It doesn’t have to be out somewhere or doing something. It hasn’t really crossed my mind to set up more official dates ‘cause us just spending time together is more than enough for me.”

Ned silently coos at that, turning to Michelle with wide eyes. “They’re so cute,” he whispers.

Michelle rolls her eyes, but tips her head in a nod, unable to deny the obvious. “It’s disgusting.”

“Disgustingly adorable,” Ned offers.

“You’re pushing your luck, Leeds.”

Peter hears their whispered words behind them, but doesn’t really process what they’re saying, because Harley is suddenly pulling back and peering at him through his lashes, the cutest little smile on his face. “That was one of the gayest things you’ve ever said to me.”

“I feel like I’ve said much gayer things, actually,” Peter says. “Like, we’ve been dating for almost a year. There’s no way I haven’t said gayer things than that.”

“That was definitely up there,” Harley tells him. He looks at Peter for another moment, and Peter just peers back, waiting patiently to see if he has anything else to say. After a solid minute or two, though, Harley just quirks his lips up into a slightly bigger smile and leans back, telling Happy, “I think we’re good. Miles looks like he’s having a good time so we don’t need to stay any longer.”

Happy huffs out a sigh. “I left my sandwich for this,” he grumbles, starting the car back up and quickly pulling away from the curb.

Harley grabs onto Peter’s hand, rests his head on Peter’s shoulder again. The drive back is quiet.

-

-

-

They’re half asleep, curled up together in Harley’s bed after watching a movie, when Peter’s phone rings. There are only a few people that the device actually rings for—every other number is usually sent to voicemail automatically—so, although he groans about having to get up at first, it’s only a moment later that he’s trudging across the room to swipe the device up from where he left it on Harley’s desk.

He doesn’t check the name before answering, and all he’s able to say is, “Hey—”

And then Miles is squealing out, “I had so much fun, it was so cool and he was so nice and everything was so great and I’m pretty sure he implied he wants to do it again and—!”

Harley meets Peter’s gaze as Miles starts to ramble on about his date. His lips pull up into a somewhat sleepy grin and he lifts his blanket up in a silent offer. Peter considers, then trots back across the room to crawl under the covers and rests his phone on top of the duvet, still listening as Miles goes on and on and on. Harley interrupts once, just to make his presence known, and then Miles is back to his overexcited rambling. It’s endearing beyond belief.

“Have we ever been this tiny and adorable?” Harley murmurs at one point, his nose tucked up against the underside of Peter’s jaw, arms curled around Peter’s waist.

Peter just smiles, scooting impossibly closer to him and humming along as Miles explains what they each ordered to eat. All things considered, he thinks this qualifies as a damn good day.