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The first time Harley hears about it, its from Tumblr.
He's taking a break from homework, scrolling on his phone, when he sees some blurry picture of Iron Man. And sitting on his shoulders is someone smaller. Red and blue. Masked.
Harley just scrolls past it.
Tony hangs around other heroes all the time, especially now that he doesn't have the Avengers backing him anymore. It's not too surprising to some out of context pictures online now and again.
He doesn't think about it again until Tony mentions his intern a few weeks later, casual as anything.
"Kid's smart," Tony says as he works on Harley's mom's car. "A couple months older than you. Goes to one of those STEM schools."
"Oh," Harley says. He does his best to keep his voice light. "Yeah, that's cool."
Tony keeps talking, and Harley nods at the right moments.
After that, Peter Parker starts popping up everywhere.
On news reports about Spider-Man and Iron Man; on Tony's lockscreen; in offhand comments Tony makes—Peter figured it out faster than I did, Peter suggested a better fix, Peter almost got hit today, scared the hell out of me.
Harley knows, logically, that reason Tony's been hanging out with Peter more is because they're closer to eachother. Geographically. They both live in New York, they both do the superhero shit. Obviously Tony would.. connect with Peter faster. More than he did Harley.
That doesn’t stop the quiet, sinking feeling that maybe Tony’s found someone easier. Smarter. Nicer. Someone who fits better into Tony’s world than a kid from Tennessee who builds things out of scrap metal and bad decisions.
So, Harley does the first thing he thinks of, he starts pulling away.
Not all at once, of course. He knows better. Tony might've found a new favorite, but he's still far too caring for his own good. If he notices that Harley's backing off, even a bit, he'll start feeling all guilty. And then he'll start trying to make Harley feel better, probably ignoring what he himself wants to do in favor of taking care of Harley.
Still, he stops reaching out, stops calling Tony after midnight to ask for school help, stops bullying him over text. When Tony calls him first, Harley answers—always—but he keeps it shorter. Keeps it lighter. If Tony has to take a work call during what’s supposed to be their time, Harley doesn’t complain anymore. He shrugs and says it’s fine.
Tony doesn’t seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t say anything. Probably just assumes Harley's going through some teenage phase. Life keeps moving. New York keeps happening without Harley in it.
Winter break comes faster than Harley expects. His mom announces it over dinner with a little more excitement than probably necessary. “You’re going to New York,” she says. “Two weeks. I love you, but I need a break and Tony said he misses you.”
Harley doesn’t argue. He hasn’t really been at all, lately.
Tony meets him at the airport, grinning like always, pulling him into a hug that smells like coffee and machine oil. “You get taller every time I see you,” Tony says.
Harley shrugs, arms coming up to wrap around Tony. "Maybe you're gettin' shorter."
They make it to the Tower relatively quickly. They grab lunch on the way—three meals, which Harley's trying very, very hard not to focus on.
“Oh, hey,” Tony says, clapping his hands together like he’s just remembered something. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Harley’s stomach sinks. "Yeah?" he asks, instead of screeching like he really wants to.
Once again, Tony either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to. He’s already moving, waving Harley along through the Tower’s halls like this is just another stop on the tour. Harley follows, holding their lunch, trying to swallow the knot tightening in his chest.
The lab door slides open.
The person on the other side is not what Harley expects.
He’s smaller than Harley thought he’d be. Gangly. All elbows and awkward posture, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself when he’s not moving. He’s got a screwdriver in one hand and grease smudged across his knuckles. When he looks up, his eyes widen a fraction, like he’s been caught somewhere he’s not supposed to be.
“Oh—hi,” the kid says, a little too fast.
“This is Peter,” Tony says, bright. “Peter, this is Harley.”
So this is him.
Peter Parker. The intern. Tony's new golden child.
Harley takes him in before he can stop himself. The too-big hoodie. The nervous energy. The way he glances at Tony, like he’s checking to see if he’s doing this right.
Peter sticks his hand out. Hesitates. Pulls it back. Then commits. “Uh—nice to meet you.”
Harley shakes his hand. “Yeah. You too.”
There’s a beat of silence that stretches just long enough to be uncomfortable.
Tony, mercifully oblivious, keeps talking. “Harley’s the one I told you about. My son. The Tennessee kid.” He glances between them, then claps his hands together again. “Great! You’ve met. I’m gonna.. go make a call, or something—don’t burn anything down.”
And then he’s gone.
Just like that.
Harley and Peter are left standing there, the lab humming softly around them.
Peter rocks back on his heels. “So. Uh. You want to see something cool?”
Harley eyes the workbench. Half-assembled tech. Familiar chaos. “Depends. Is it gonna explode?”
“Probably not,” Peter says. “But theres always a possibility.”
Harley exhales, something in his chest easing just a little. “Alright. Show me.”
They fall into it easier than Harley expects. Talking shop. Trading ideas. Interrupting each other mid-sentence. Peter gets animated when he explains things, hands moving too fast, words tripping over themselves. Harley recognizes it immediately—it's nearly the exact same way Tony gets.
At some point, Harley realizes he’s laughing.
Later they end up sitting on the floor, backs against a worktable, splitting a soda they probably weren’t supposed to take. Not that Tony would yell at them.
Peter fiddles with the tab. "You know, you're actually pretty chill," he mutters. "I wasn't expecting that."
"Wasn't expecting?" Harley repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. I mean, Mr. Stark clearly loves you. I just, uh, thought you'd be more.. arrogant about that fact, maybe?" Peter rubs his neck. "It sounds kinda shitty now that I'm saying it aloud, but.."
Harley laughs. He doesn't even mean to. "You thought—what? No, I mean, yeah. He loves me and all. But, like, not as much as he loves you."
"What are you talking about?"
"He's always goin' on 'bout you. Your projects, your patrols, your fucking grades. It's pretty much all I've been hearing over the last couple months."
Peter sputters, staring at Harley wide-eyed for a moment. "What‽ Dude, he talks about you all the time! Tennessee, that motorcycle you guys are building together. I think I know more about your school records than my own at this point."
Peter keeps staring at him, to the point Harley's honestly starting to feel a little uncomfortable. "You know he keeps this busted-up piece of metal on his desk because you made it when you were, like, twelve.”
"He does?”
“Yeah,” Peter says. “He says it’s ‘important.’” He makes air quotes, then grimaces. “I thought you were the standard. Like, I was the temporary one.”
Harley swallows down the insecurities that start bubbling up. He shrugs, trying to keep his voice casual. "So we're both idiots, then, huh? 'Cause here I was thinkin' I was old news."
Peter falls quiet for a beat, contemplating the words. "You know, he.. freaked out when you stopped calling as much.”
Harley’s stomach flips. “He what?”
“Didn’t say anything to you,” Peter rushes on. “Or me, really. Just.. got quieter. Checked his phone a lot. Asked if I thought you were mad at him.” He grimaces. “I told him no. That you were pro'ly just busy. But now I'm guessing it's my fault, huh?”
"No," Harley blurted. "It's, well, kinda? I just.. didn't wanna be in the way. I didn't wanna make Tony deal with me—staying up on the phone, helping me with homework—not if he didn't wanna be doing it. Not if he'd rather be spendin' time with you."
"That's dumb."
"Yeah," Harley chuckles. "I'm starin' to realize that now, thanks Sherlock."
Peter chortles despite himself. "Rude. I'm telling Mr. Stark, then maybe I will be his favorite."
"Right, because sarcasm is definitely a no-go in his eyes."
They both laugh, and Harley suddenly realizes that for the first time in months, he actually feels alright.