Chapter Text
He was twelve years old the day he shoved his little sister into the closet. Not out of fun, not to torment the little brat who ate the last Little Debbie. No, because HE was over and HE had drunk exactly six beers. Five beers meant the man got a little handsy, which Harley could handle. His mother was an adult and it was her relationship, trying to stop that would have been a bit disturbing for a twelve year old anyway. Even if she cried.
No, at six he started to hit. Then six was swiftly followed by a seventh and the man’s eyes would move past his mom to his little sister. His sister knew to let him hide her, she knew big brother Harley would never let it happen again.
His mother didn’t know. As far as she knew, the man just scared the kids a bit.
Harley scowled, gave a gentle tap to the closet door and received one in response. She knew he’d come back for her when the asshole passed out watching porn - it was a Saturday, after all. Sighing, he creeped through the house and peeked around the corner.
“Where’s the boy?” the man - Dave? Piece of shit, more likely. - demanded, reaching for beer number nine. Crap.
“Probably out in the garage,” his mom said, chuckling. “He got good news the other day-” No, mom, NO. “-my baby boy is an alpha.”
Harley watched as Dave’s hand flashed out, smacking her in the face. “He's still a fucking brat kid. Now where is the so-called big shot?”
“Like I said, in the garage, I think,” her voice was now uneasy. Harley had seen the bruises before, but maybe asking about him was new. Dave stood up and shoved her back, the sound of pain echoing the room when her hip contacted hard with the counter.
All those newly found alpha hormones rushed through him and, without even thinking of how so out of luck he was, he rushed into the room and slammed into the man, though admittedly he only barely hit just above waist high. “Get off my mom!”
He’d had no chance, of course. A large hand swung him around, slamming him into the wall harder than his mom had hit the counter. Another hand, just as huge, hit him right in the side of the face. He could feel one of the last of his baby teeth loosen. He dropped, gasping and vision hazy.
“Get to the bedroom, Debra,” the man growled.
“Of course,” her voice was so small and Harley could feel her hand shake as she cupped Harley’s swelling cheek. “Go to the garage…your sis?”
“Hidden,” Harley half-whispered and half-slurred. He glanced over her shoulder to the man blocking his path to the closet his sister was in. He’d have to leave her there for a few hours, but she’d probably fall asleep. The door to the backyard was behind him and, feeling like he’d failed his omega mother, he reached for the doorknob.
Some alpha he was turning out to be.
His mom turned her back on him and, face inflamed with pain, he stumbled out the door. He was crying by the time he made it into the little shop area he had in the two-car garage. Metal parts, electrical cords, and bits of engines bought and/or stolen from drunk neighbors. It was a tiny junkyard and it was his paradise.
He made his way to the tiny fridge in the corner so he could pull out a semi-cold cold pack to put on his face. He pressed his forehead on the textured fridge door and sighed, trying to not picture what was happening in the house in any way. He was old enough to have a vague idea of what it meant when adults went into the bedroom, but he wasn’t sure if what was happening right then was exactly what the romance movies meant.
“Are you okay?” a voice asked.
Harley spun, grabbed his potato gun, and pointed it at…a boy. No, definitely man, probably twenty-ish. He was glancing around, holding his arms up, and just looking completely out of his element. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“I’m sorry, I just kind of…woke-up behind the garden shed. Fully honest, oh God, how does my dad explain this to people?” the man trailed off muttering to himself. His crystal blue eyes landed back on Harley’s face after he had finished talking to himself. “Oh, God, you’re face. Who did that to you?”
Harley raised the potato gun a little more threateningly, “Back off, pedo!”
The fully disgusted expression and gagging noise the man made was so immediate, Harley actually thought the guy was going to vomit on his ripped up and duct tape covered couch from the very concept of being a pedophile. And Harley liked that couch. The man cleared his throat and ran his hands through thick, too out of control to be intentional hair. “Can we start again?”
Harley glared at him a moment, as well as he could with one eye swollen shut. “Fine.”
“My name is Peter Stark,” the man started.
“Nice try, Peter Stark is like two years older than me. I’m not an idiot,” Harley snapped.
The man glanced around, a small smile on his face. “Obviously.”
“What do you want?” Harley asked, sounding tired. And he was very tired.
“You, uh, haven’t told me your name.”
“I’m Steve Rogers, nice to meet you,” he said with all the sarcasm he could muster.
“Be better to pick Bucky, actually, if you’re going to go for that level of sarcasm. They all have their own style,” the guy said, and he was not ready to call this man Peter Stark. “Look, I’m sorry I’m here. I kind of have this genetic condition…we time travel. Usually I’m bouncing all over the place and have never actually seen you before in this context, but for some reason I’ve come back to this day.”
“Uh-huh,” Harley rolled his eyes.
“I just met you today,” he said. “Not, uh, now. Today was your first day as an SI intern, in my time.”
They stared at each other, then the man - Peter - kind of slumped down. Harley felt compelled to guide the omega to the couch. And then, he just fell asleep. Not like a drunk or druggie, but just like Harley had snapped his fingers and played a magic trick. He backed away, slowly forcing himself from staring at that hair and wishing, maybe, he could see the eyes again. He was a newly presented, just entering teenhood, alpha after all in front of a vulnerable omega. And, the guy was pretty.
The loud sound of a boom sent a shock of fear through him and his whole body went still before he swung around to stare toward the sound. He lived in gun country, he knew the sound of a shotgun blast.
And that sound just came from his house.
Harley glanced back, confusion hitting him when the man was completely missing, before he turned and ran for his mother and sister. And the dead body in his mother’s bed.
*
Harley let out a sigh, wishing his sister would have come this time to visit their mom at the penitentiary. But she stopped the day she turned fourteen, their foster parents agreeing with her decision. He got it, his mother had let his little sister’s childhood be a parade of the type of abuse no little girl should go through, one guy right after another. Harley hadn’t even known the depth of it until she had broken down during the trial and he had been allowed to see the tapes of her statement later.
Harley was left, trying to be the good kid, sitting on the bus every other week to see her. Trying to still be the good alpha son to his omega mother.
He was lonely. God, he was so lonely. No one really spoke to him at school. He’d already proven his worth, getting his Bachelor’s in Engineering more on high school credit than anything. He was a sixteen year old alpha from a broken home and surrounded by any person who should be considered an adult to him.
All he had was his visits. Visits to his mom, who always looked so desperate to touch him. And visits from the man, who was awkward and confused.
Peter had only shown up maybe six times in the past four years, since the first time, the moment that ended right before his mother had shot that asshole beta. Yet Peter always seemed happy and excited to see him, like he remembered him crystal clear each time.
The older Harley got, the more he believed Peter’s story. He watched the news of the Stark prodigy and they looked nearly identical. Only the one Harley was seeing face to face was older than the one on the television screen. His Peter bounced around, but had more control over himself. He babbled like he was trying to explain one concept to three people, but he’d gently slow down when Harley would raise an eyebrow.
They had so much in common and yet…not. His Peter was biochemistry all the way. And had a weird obsession with spiders. Harley was all metallurgy and engineering, which always gained him a joking, “Wait till Daddy-o meets you!”
Peter never mentioned their first face-to-face meeting like he had the time he found him in the garage. “Nope, I was told not to push anything. It’s your life. I’m not going to guide you to seeing me in the future. Things just have to happen, you know?”
Harley sighed and gathered his mail as he made it back to his dorm room. He opened a few declined letters for masters work at other colleges. He was already accepted still at University of Tennessee, but he was finally ready to move past it. He could visit his mom on holidays and he honestly thought he needed to get away from the trauma of the past. Instead of soaking it up like a sponge. Even to this day, random students recognized him.
Then he ripped open a letter of acceptance. Stanford. With a scholarship and Harley was tenacious, he could find even more ways to pay for everything.
His sister was already out of state, closer to California than he was.
He rubbed his fingers along the paper, before rushing to the computer to put in his acceptance.
*
Out of curiosity, three weeks into his new school, Harley looked up Peter Stark. Harley had just turned seventeen and Peter was nineteen and in his last year of Princeton, finishing his own masters. He read the articles claiming Tony Stark had thrown a fit over Peter not going to MIT, but Peter had wanted what he had wanted, biology instead of computers. So, Tony paid for it anyway. Spoilt.
But not in a way that Harley could hate him for, because the love of his parents for him was so obvious that Harley could never deny anyone that. It was something he had always wished for his sister and himself.
Harley focused on what he was doing. Peter hadn’t visited him in nearly a year and Harley, well, didn’t fault him for that. He still wasn’t sure if he was actually time traveling, Peter always laughed when he said it like it was a family joke. So, in his boredom, Harley looked at Peter Stark’s actual family history.
And he found a police file of an omega Tony Stark being missing. He saw alphas that, even though functioning, were as broken down as he thought he would have been if his omega left. A part of Harley hated Tony Stark for putting them through that, even though the idea was so insane to really understand to begin with.
The concept made him need…touch. Comfort.
He met Scott Summers, who was taking the final classes for his teaching degree and avoiding bonding with an alpha back home. It was fun, awkward, and Harley couldn’t bring himself to ever knot the man. It felt like he was touching someone else’s omega, especially after Scott actually spoke out loud of Jean. But intimacy made them both feel like they were alive.
They parted after three months, one of those romances that turned into friendships.
Another year and he’s entering an engineering fair. It can get him a scholarship that can finish off his Masters in Electrical Engineering. There are rules, of course, for nothing weaponry so he takes apart his old potato-gun and thinks simplistics, returning to his roots. The tiniest thing he can amplify and make useful without using his silly little twelve year old go to. It’s not that he can’t come up with something new, but Harley always enjoyed breaking things to make them better. To him that is what science was about. He focuses on the original and its little rubber band trigger.
Reactionary properties always get a response, from what he’s noticed.
*
He’s talking to the head from Hammer Industries, who is kind of sleezy even with his nicely set glasses and tie, about commercial weaponry and internships when he hears the voice. He ignores it, because if Peter is just randomly popping up today then it’s the wrong time and Peter would know to step away since Harley didn’t have time to socialize. Still, Justin Hammer has got to be the most annoying person on the planet, so eventually he tunes in toward the voice he seldom hears, but has memorized.
“Dad, no, Daddy, seriously? Not my game here,” Peter - and it sounds like his Peter - said. “I’m heading to the Bio section. You have all the fun and I’ll send Papa to come and claim you before you give all the foundations money to everyone in the room.”
“Aww, but-” Holy crap, that was Tony Stark sounding like he was whining like a five year old. “There is good stuff here!”
“And there is good stuff in Bio and Med,” Peter replied, sounding amused. “Lunch?”
“Yeah, Buddy, lunch,” Tony replied.
How Harley managed to keep his eyes on Justin Hammer’s face, trying to get him into a weapons internship he was just faking being interested in, he didn’t know. But he could feel Peter walk away. He fought the urge to run after him, because he remembered how happy Scott was last they talked, knowing Scott hadn’t just dived into his mating and how he and Jean were better for it. Harley wasn’t going to be a psycho about this.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Mister Hammer, but I feel while this direction could create excellent weapons, I am hoping to use the last year of my program to show how it can be used to prevent the need for weapons.”
“In what way?” a voice piped up and there Tony Stark was, gazing at his intricate display.
“Uh, excuse me, but-” Hammer said.
“Oh, shut your trap, Justin,” Tony said. He turned his eyes to Harley and, oh dear God, that was Peter’s hair. “So, what do you mean by saving lives?”
“It’s a fast acting reactive device,” Harley said, his mouth speaking without his own thoughts. And thank God. “Imagine if medical equipment that are still mechanical can react faster and more effectively. Use the same focus of making weapons faster and accurate, but instead apply it to something needed in the ER or, if you insist on the military then pararescue.”
“Where did you get the first thought?” Tony asked.
“Uh,” Harley blushed. “I made a potato gun when I was about twelve.”
“Got to love that rubber band,” Tony said brightly. Tony tapped his finger against the table and made a humming sound. “I like it. I have to look around. My progeny says it’s only fair, but I may be in touch.”
“Yes, sir,” Harley immediately replied. He got a bright grin in response. He had a feeling Tony Stark had had to deal with a lot of looking down as an omega, even from brat kid alphas like Harley.
“As I was saying, weaponry is where-” Justin Hammer started immediately.
“I’m not interested,” Harley growled, trying to not be amused at how the beta almost skittered back. He hadn’t even been trying to be aggressive.
*
It takes about three, almost four months, before he gets any letters concerning his fair display. He throws away the ones for weaponry, including an arrogant one written by Justin Hammer himself that was almost borderline romantically inclined that Harley quickly burned. After seeing his mother standing over a dead body, with her shaky hands on a shotgun, Harley had no desire for that type of creepy behavior. Besides, he might be a young alpha always seconds away from a rut, but he wasn’t going near that at all.
A couple weeks later, he got a letter from Stark Industries. It’s a simple offer of a part time internship, with pay, and a scholarship that would pay for part of his last year of schooling. It also allows him to use any work he did within the company toward his final research depending on approval. It’s a better offer than he’s gotten so far.
He accepted, knowing it will be a long drive every other day to Los Angeles, but something in his gut tells him it’s worth it.
And it is.
He never saw Tony or Peter Stark and that was okay. Because he was there for himself. He felt like he was learning more than he could in just his classes.
Then, he turned eighteen and went into work four days later. Harley’s thoughts were mostly on the final review of his project by his academic department head brought to the board for his masters. He was exhausted, but he was also happy. He knew he was basically in that final groove of his final year, finalizing everything within his academic card. It was tiring and to be honest Harley planned to sleep for a couple of days once he was done.
But he was talking to his sister more and more. His classes had finished up wonderfully. All he had was that final unit overview and his internship with SI. Which, he heard, could become possibly at least a permanent part-time position as he waited for that final decision on if he’d completed all his proposal work to earn that masters.
He was re-wiring the shouldering unit for a robotics project the team he was part of was working on which he had stupidly fumbled through a few days before when a loud whistle made him look up to see a bright red and gold cupcake being placed at a safe distance on his station. He looked up to see his team’s lead standing over him, blonde hair up in a pony-tail and her smirk fully in place. “Now who forgot to tell us something on Monday?”
“Dr. Michaels,” he began, before blushing bright red when everyone in the room yelled out ‘happy birthday’ while holding their own… “Iron Man cupcakes? Really?”
“What? The ultimate robot nerd for the baby robot nerd,” she said brightly. “Hey, I’m clever, damn it! Also…Mister Stark has a thing. We get Iron Man, the administration gets Captain America, and so on. Besides, you’re in for a treat.”
“I am?” he asked, unsure of the way a couple of the other young interns giggled.
“Mister Stark’s son started his internship a while ago, just before you I think,” she explained. “Anyway, the boy is addicted to red frosting. It’s completely insane he hasn’t used those baby blues of his to get them to make the Hulk cupcakes red. Mister Stark said no, though, so now Peter roams the building in search of red frosting since the medical department refuses to make Bruce Banner appear even vaguely evil.”
“That is-”
And there he was. His Peter - and Harley really had to stop labeling him that in his head. Some twisted alpha hind-brain part of himself couldn’t and now, he didn’t want to. Peter had bounced into the room, all happy omega warmth. “Okay, Dr. Michaels, hand it over. You don’t tease a poor, starving omega with candy and don’t deliver.”
“I didn’t promise anything. I merely mentioned to your colleague we had Harley’s first birthday with the company today. It’s not my fault he told you,” Dr. Michaels replied, not even bothering to hide her amusement. “And, oh…I think Richard ate the spare. Sorry, Harley, I was going to let you take one home as well.”
Dr. Michaels pat Peter on the shoulder and walked away. Peter stared at Harley’s untouched cupcake, before he sat down on the stool across from him with a huff. “You’d think being the boss’ kid would get me more candy than it does.”
“Baked good,” Harley corrected, speaking in front of the guy for the first time in their own actual in-time reality. This was making Harley’s brain spin.
“What?” Peter asked, actually looking at him for once. Peter started staring harder at his face than he had the cupcake. It was unnerving and the man clearly didn’t recognize him.
“It’s a baked good, not really candy,” Harley replied. “Don’t you think this pouting, spoilt boss’ kid move is going to make you look bad after awhile?”
“Don’t you think this suave Southern accent thing is going to get you in trouble some day?” Peter rebounded, waving his hand at Harley’s face.
Harley’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
Peter let out a hum, crossing his arms and sliding forward a bit on the workstation. Those intense blue eyes looked at the robot piece Harley had been working on, before turning back to Harley. “I’m not actually like that, you know. They just look at me and I’m shoved into a little box of awe at who my fathers are or fear of what those fathers will do to them if I don’t stay a happy little omega for everyone around me. So, it’s easier to fake too innocent for my own good so I don’t, well, risk anyone getting in trouble. Or having a nervous breakdown like my first two baby-sitters.”
“I guess I can see that. It’s annoying as fuck, though, I have to admit,” Harley said with a shrug. He could accept Peter’s explanation at point value. Besides, he’d be terrified of hurting Captain America’s son, too. He didn’t even want to think of the other one. Bucky Barnes was scary as hell.
Peter was back to staring at the cupcake.
“Really?”
Peter blushed, which Harley dragged his eyes away from, because dear God that wasn’t fair. “Sorry, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth. And, well, half of my DNA and all. Hard to feel like I’ve eaten enough on the best of days.”
“Just have it, you brat,” Harley said, laughing.
“You sure?” Peter asked, looking up at him through his eyelashes. And, yeah, Harley definitely had an appointment with his hand that night, because this whole conversation wasn’t fair. He’d thought His Peter was cute here and there, but this was a here and now Peter who didn’t know him and kept blushing and having those eyes. The way Peter was leaning forward made it so Harley could smell him. He smelled like strawberries and cream.
“Yeah,” Harley replied, voice sounding ridiculously dry. He cleared his throat and nodded, gesturing for Peter to have the damn cupcake.
“Thank you.” Peter sounded so honestly sincere that Harley couldn’t bring himself to take a sarcasm turn on it. Especially with the little bounce Peter gave as he started to enjoy his snack. God, it was like Tony Stark had wired it so that all his left over energy went straight to Peter. Was giving him sugar even a good idea? “So, where is that delightful accent of yours from, anyway?”
“Delightful, huh? Uh, I’m from Tennessee,” he replied. “Have you ever been?”
“Nope,” Peter said, tilting his head. “Papa and Dad were there for a couple weeks about five years ago. They said they were enjoying Memphis, but when your Dad - who still scoffs at any other kind of dancing but swing as being superior - is saying long live Elvis then you know they’re lying their asses off. Is there more to it than country music and white jumpsuits?”
“There’s a garage I think you’ll like,” Harley said, smiling at the confused look that passed Peter’s face. “You’ll get that eventually. Also, you’re Dad’s right. Swing is the best kind of dancing.”
“I’m telling the whole building you said that,” Peter threatened.
Harley glanced at his phone and cursed. He stood up and started gathering his stuff. “I have a virtual meeting with my departmental head in twenty minutes. So, uh-”
“Go, go! I’ll meander my way back down to my floor and play with my spiders and venom,” Peter said.
Harley glanced up at him, before letting out a huff. Without thinking about it he reached out and gently wiped the red frosting off the corner of Peter’s mouth. Sky blue eyes stared at him, too wide for Harley to be sure it wasn’t because of shock or worse, a hint of fear at the closeness of an alpha. Then Peter blinked and his face went as red as the frosting. Harley backed away a bit. “Can we, uh, talk again? Or something? Or, uh, yeah?”
Harley Keener, suave man, indeed.
“Yeah,” Peter’s head bobbed rapidly. “I’ll show you my lab next.”
“That has things that will kill you,” Harley pointed out.
“In cages,” Peter rolled his eyes.
*
It took a few months to run into Peter Stark again. During that time, Harley completed school and started the process of searching for an apartment in Los Angeles or even just Malibu. Anything closer to his new full-time paid internship with SI. The whole area was expensive as hell, so he ended up accepting a roommate space near Pasadena. One of four roommates, but it was manageable.
Two of his new roommates were betas and still college students, so were either out partying elsewhere or studying. The other was another, older alpha who seemed like a bit of a dick, but Harley was always at work and the guy was also out late by the time Harley came home to crash. So, all in all, it wasn’t too horrible.
Well, one thing he could complain about was Skip and his alpha arrogance letting him parade his omegas around, not even bothering to filter the scent of young (barely legal, Harley’s age young) omega sex. It wasn’t a daily thing, sometimes a week would go by without it, but when it did it was like the house was saturated. At least one of the others had gotten him to put up a damn sign when he had a visitor.
It didn’t stop Harley from being late to work one day and actually smelling like pre-heat omega sex. He had been hoping he could sneak into the decontamination room near the chemistry department and get the scent off him. It was making him nauseous. Harley didn’t have much experience with omega sex, just fumbling around with Scott, but he was pretty sure it was supposed to smell more enticing than this.
Naturally, this is when Peter turned the corner and they nearly ran into each other. Peter skittered back, jaw dropping as they looked at each other. His face twisted, a sign of disgust and probably the same level of nausea. Then, almost like blinds snapping closed, Peter’s face changed to one of pure blankness.
“Papa, I’m going to…” And shit, Harley had been so intent on watching Peter’s strange reaction to him that he didn’t even noticed Steve fucking Rogers had walked around the corner.
“Peter, introduce me,” Steve said, his tone so calm that Harley was reminded of his elementary school librarian, calm and nice around books but not so much outside of there. Steve was obviously aware of the upsetting way Peter was trying to back away from Harley, but was keeping control of the space as any head alpha needed.
“Harley Keener, he interns in robotics,” Peter said in a soft voice, eyes focused on the ground.
“Potato gun kid,” Steve said with a nod, before turning to Peter. “See, I listen to Tony. Now, go on, I’ll meet you at the deli.”
“Yes, Papa,” Peter replied, slipping past Harley.
“Where were you heading?” Steve asked.
“Decontamination showers,” Harley admitted with a wince.
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Steve said bitterly. He grabbed Harley’s arm and started tugging him along, harsher than Harley would expect from someone who knew their strength as well as Captain America did. They turned a few corners and finally Steve was shoving him into a stall to undress.
“Umm,” Harley shifted, very uneasy at the idea of Captain America seeing him naked.
“Kid, strip down and scrub up, because I need you clear headed when you tell me why you came into work smelling like sex and distressed, barely fertile omega,” Steve ordered.
Harley had automatically started pulling the clothes off, Steve having used such an in-charge tone that he had felt compelled to follow any command the man gave him. It was unnerving. But he did stop at his underwear as he registered Steve’s words. “D-distressed? What…what does that mean?”
“You tell me? What kind of fun happened at your place last night?” Steve asked, his tone now casual. He was clearly giving Harley time to compose his thoughts. “Speed it up, you got a shower to take.”
“I got home around eleven. Two of my roommates were gone, but Skip was making out with one of his omegas on the couch,” Harley said. “I didn’t like the smell of the room, so I didn’t think I could eat any of the pizza he offered me, so I just went to bed.”
“Okay, take your shower. Really scrub any hair, those strands like to cling to the bad smells the most,” Steve said, sounding oddly soft around the edges. He was purposely trying to be gentle with Harley.
“Captain?” Harley asked, watching Steve gather up the clothes with a pinched look to his nose.
“Yes?”
“What did you mean? Before when you said distressed?” Harley asked again, because of that word. He remembered it from so long ago, it no longer had meaning. If it ever had. If he had ever understood to begin with.
Steve held up the clothes. “Son, this is the smell of a scared omega.”
Harley’s mind was slow to make the connection and he wondered why he wasn’t reacting the way he should. He should be throwing up. He should be storming out of there to rip Skip apart for doing that in his house. He should be calling his mom and sister and apologizing, because the scent had been normal in his house.
He had never known it was actually bad.
Instead he showered as Steve had told him to and he found scrubs from the medical ward for him when he emerged. Once dressed, he found himself exiting the decontamination area and, feeling like a complete idiot, found himself a closet. He wanted to climb inside, like he had his sister do so long ago. Only it wouldn’t protect him now.
He climbed in anyway.
*
Maybe all of twenty minutes. Maybe an hour. Eventually he could hear voices through the closet’s metal door. He felt drained even though he hadn’t cried. His knees hurt, hips feeling angled too far. His head was pounding.
“You shouldn’t have left him alone,” a rough voice said.
“The kid was naked and following directions to clean himself up just fine. I wasn’t expecting him to disappear. I was only gone long enough to package and tag his clothes,” that was Steve.
“So, you were gone for twenty-six minutes. Long enough in a freaked out kid's head,” the other man retorted.
“I left him clothes,” Steve mumbled.
“You do so swell with normal people, punk.”
“Jerk,” Steve seemed to automatically reply. “I can scent him, he’s right here. See? I didn’t need your bloodhound nose after all.”
“Blame your kid, he’s the one calling me and freaking out about leaving you with your murder face on with his new friend,” the owner of the voice was revealed as the closet door opened up. Shorter than Captain America and yet somehow so much more terrifying looking with his longer hair and scruff, Bucky Barnes was a thing to behold. His gray eyes turned to eyeball Harley, who made a point of not trying to stand yet. “What are you doing in there?”
Harley felt a spike of defensiveness about his actions. “Thinking.”
Steve rubbed the side of his face and made a ‘up-up’ motion with the other hand. “We need to talk about our next step.”
“Yeah, what’s this about you owning a whore house?” Bucky demanded.
That had Harley shooting to his feet, snarling as he stumbled out of the closet and into the man’s face. “I do not have a whore house, you fucking-”
“Then go sit down and tell us all about the idiot roommate of yours who apparently is trying to start one,” Bucky interrupted. Steve glared at him. “What? I would have reacted the same way. Now he’s motivated and out of the closet.”
Harley scowled the entire time they guided him to the nearest empty office and shut the door. Then he slumped into a chair and just waited, a tired expression on his face.
“Look, we’re getting you out of there, because if anything you can’t keep coming to work smelling like that. And besides, I’m not having you upset every person in the building. Your internship would be over in a second,” Steve admitted.
“It’s not like I can afford anywhere else,” Harley muttered. “Look, I’ll be fine. Just tell me what you need me to do otherwise. I can’t sit here and let this happen. Not in my own house, not again.”
“Again?” Bucky asked.
“That’s why you didn’t understand what the smell was,” Steve said, a dawning look on his face.
“I smelt it all the time growing up. That’s just how the house always smelled, unless my mom wasn’t dating anyone.” Harley let out a laugh that had a hint of hysteria to it. “I used to shut my sister up in the closet, hide her from them. I didn’t think I had to help my mom, I thought that was for adults. That she knew what she was doing.”
“Shit, kid,” Bucky whispered.
“She’s still in prison. Apparently shooting the abusive, child molesting, rapist in your house is worth more years than doing all those things,” Harley said. He let out a sigh, feeling way too young in front of these two alphas. “So, what do I do?”
“Just give us names and descriptions and we’re going to report him for possible omega prostitution or intimidation. Anything to get a foot in the door,” Steve said. “The Avengers tend to focus only on the big scale of things, but it’s not too unheard of for Bucky to stick his nose in local citations that could be connected to larger rings.”
“I get bored waiting for a scientist to lose control of their experiments,” Bucky admitted with a shrug.
“Okay, if that’s all I can do,” Harley said, slowly.
“And move out,” Steve stated.
“I’d like to avoid being even more obvious, thanks,” Harley grumbled. “I’ll think about it.”
“He’s as stubborn as you are,” Bucky commented, getting an incredulous look from Steve in return. Bucky ignored him and grabbed Harley a pen and paper. “Details.”
Harley started off with the basics, such as Skip Micheal’s name and the first name of any of the omegas he remembered. There were a lot of them in the one month he’d lived there. Finally, after describing the smell and what little uncomfortable interactions he had witnessed, he set the pen down. Only to pick it back up again. “Huh.”
“What?” Steve asked, looking up from where he was drawing what looked like a little boy and a puppy.
“All the omegas. They were all female with brown hair and, like, these intensely crystal blue eyes. The hair changed shades, but never the eyes. Kind of like your eyes, Captain,” Harley commented.
“Better watch out, Cap, he might be coming for you next,” Bucky teased. He stood and snatched up Harley’s notations. “I’ll keep you updated. Try to not go on an adorable mini alpha rage if you insist on staying there.”
“Is that a possibility?” Harley asked.
Bucky laughed, his voice heard as he shut the door behind him. “Baby alphas.”
“Ignore him,” Steve suggested. “Now, I’m very late for a lunch date with my son and I believe you are supposed to be working.”
And just like that, it was like the day went back to normal. Harley could only assume that was the side effect of spending any time at all around a member of the Avengers. Steve’s no nonsense, meeting over attitude just pressed the feeling home.
*
“So, I’ve been told,” Peter started, like he was already in the middle of a conversation. Harley slowly lowered his sandwich. “That, well, I let my nose misguide my brain. Or I think that was the little lecture Papa gave me. I know, though, that his point was that I should have asked you what happened instead of judging you.”
“Okay, so turkey and American cheese will be revisited later,” Harley said, sitting his lunch to the side. “Peter, sit down. Please, you’re not the tallest in the world but you’ve got secret super power energy.”
“I do?” Peter asked, looking confused and dropping into the seat across from Harley.
“You’re not radiating those spiders are you? Cause with your half-serum DNA that would…be a very hot but scary combination,” Harley offered.
Peter’s face flushed red, probably at the prospect of being hot. Then, he cleared his throat and continued on, “Do you need a place to stay?”
“Not you, too,” Harley said, tiredly. “I’m guessing the good Captain mentioned my refusal to leave my current home?”
“With that icky guy there, why would you stay?” Peter asked, looking honestly baffled.
“Well, he’s not trying to touch me in the middle of the night, so I’m pretty sure I’m safe,” Harley said, giving an apologetic smile when Peter looked horrified. “Sorry. But, it feels wrong to not stay. I can’t stop what’s happening without things going downhill very fast, which sucks beyond all measure. Not to mention, alpha flees the apartment just as the cops show up? Yeah, that’s asking to be arrested.”
“I was going to offer you my couch pull-out, but I guess you have made up your mind,” Peter commented.
“That’s sweet of you, but if all I can do is give those omegas a warm cup of coffee in the morning then I’m going to stay. It’s at least something,” Harley admitted.
Peter didn’t respond to that, though a small smile gathered on his face. Then he let out a breath. “You’re lucky I’m used to being kept out of all my dads’ insanity, or I’d probably try to get involved.”
“Like they wouldn’t know if you did,” Harley teased.
Peter chuckled and reached over and snatched up half of Harley’s sandwich. “Hurry up and eat, I want you to meet Gomez and Morticia.”
“Oh God, are those your favorite spiders?” Harley asked.
“Nope,” Peter replied with a grin. He stood up and nodded at Harley’s half of HIS sandwich. “Well, are you coming?”
The lingering scent of smug omega got Harley to his feet as fast as he could. If Peter kept that scent up for the entire elevator ride, well, Harley couldn’t be blamed that he was half-hard the entire time. Something about an omega strutting down a hallway like he owned it was something Harley couldn’t deny was a turn on. It was how he had been turned onto Scott, meeting him as he mouthed off to an alpha like he owned all of Stanford’s quad. It was the same with Peter, though maybe a bit more intense.
He tried to not eye-ball Peter as he followed the man along. Peter was built like he was ready to win a swimming competition and from the backside it was a very nice thing to look at.
Entering Peter’s lab shut down any horniness he might have been building. There was an entire wall of spiders and he scrambled back when he saw the damn red jumping-type spiders that chased him down his hallway when he was seven. Turning, he saw the larger containers for poisonous reptiles. Hands grabbed him and sat him down, before he could start panting like an alpha in the middle of a danger zone.
“Calm down,” Peter said, laughing. “They are all safely contained. I give my babies all the food they need. Just breathe.”
“How do you handle being in here?” Harley asked, ignoring the squeak he gave. He was a strong alpha, damn it. “That little bitch over there once chased me through the house!”
“Oh, yeah, those spiders respond to sounds. If you scream, it’ll come,” Peter casually said. “You should see the actual jumping ones! People keep them as pets. Small as your thumbnail. Super cute.”
“Cute?” Harley asked in disbelief.
“Wanna see?” Peter asked.
“Gomez and Morticia really are spiders, huh?” Harley demanded. Peter pouted and then nodded. “Okay, I’m going to cry like any alpha will, but shit…show me your little spiders.”
Ten minutes later Harley is watching as a little tiny spider - so small it’s even triggering his alpha need to protect - bounced around on Peter’s hand. Morticia is a dark gray and Gomez has strands of black and white. Gomez is almost flamboyant, waving his little arms around like he’s trying to speak poetic to all who could hear.
“Still mad I lied?” Peter asked, after putting the tiny little things away.
“As long as you don’t release the others,” Harley replied.
Peter sat next to him, smiling. “Thank you for giving them a chance. Honestly, they’re the only ones I’d unleash on you. I promise.”
Harley could feel Peter’s heat next to him and it felt wild compared to the admitted fear of all the spiders and snakes around him. He wanted to protect Peter, but the man was more in control of the room than he was. “Why do you like all this?”
“When I was in high school when my school - against Daddy-o’s complaint - had a school trip to the depths of Oscorp,” Peter admitted. “A spider that had been released by…honestly, I don’t even know. It bit me. I smacked the spot, killing the spider, kind of like you smack a spot when a mosquito bites you. It never made the news, but I was sick for a good while. Whatever was in that spider had tried to change me.”
“But it didn’t?” Harley asked.
“Maybe a little,” Peter said in a teasing tone. “But if Papa’s serum hadn’t been in my DNA then it could have been a lot worse. Ever since then I’ve been obsessed with spiders and venom, which leads to this. If I can find a rapid cure for that kind of thing…more than they have now, one that can work hours later when the person makes it to the hospital…"
“Gonna save the world one bite at a time,” Harley replied, his voice soft.
“Yeah, if I can,” Peter admitted.
“So, what can you do? Beyond being an adorable omega?” Harley asked, feeling his breathing pick up because what the fuck. Except Peter’s face flushed and that smell that had been growing amplified. Strawberries and cream, only now a hint of cayenne pepper hinting in the room. Harley had to breathe through his mouth when he realized it might be arousal.
“Oh, I can’t show you here. I might break a containment. Wouldn’t want to scare the alpha,” Peter teased, his voice almost breathy.
“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Harley agreed. It took him a second, but eventually he was able to stand on weak legs. “I think my break is over.”
“If…if it gets too hard at home…I do have a pull out on my couch. I don’t actually live with the Avengers,” Peter said, still using that ridiculous tone of voice.
Harley swallowed, feeling a little proud he didn’t just pin Peter down. He nodded, headed for the door. “Thanks. It’s good to have a back up. Uh…maybe lunch again without spiders involved?”
Peter looked up from where he sat and dear God it wasn’t fair. He had the crystal blue of stubbornness, like he was able to display in a glance that he’d get what he wanted, but Harley didn’t know what it was. But the way he was looking at Harley was pure doe-eye, pure soft and what typically would have been brown but was instead a blue-gray gentle gentle. Harley didn’t know how to respond to it, so he just smiled, because it was Peter.
“I’ll come find you?” Peter offered.
“Yeah, you come find me,” Harley replied, not realizing until he said it that he just told Peter that he got to choose the next move. Harley was pretty okay with that.