Chapter Text
Harley knew something was off the second mom said, “Hey, can you guys sit down on the couch for a minute?”
The couch.
Yeah, no. Nobody sat on the couch in their house. The couch was for announcements. For talks. For those situations where Harley had absolutely no clue what he was supposed to do or how he was supposed to act.
Still, he dropped right into the middle, like this was just a regular Tuesday and not a fantastic full-on Couch Talk.
Peter sat on the very edge, back so straight it looked painful. Like, one wrong move and something in his spine was gonna crack. Morgan climbed up on Harley’s other side and, without asking, leaned into him, knocking her head lightly against his shoulder like she’d been assigned that spot at birth.
Harley’s knee started bouncing before he could stop it. Of course it did. But then he caught Peter staring at it and forced himself to go still.
Don’t think about the last two times they sat like this.
Don’t think about how dad had been standing then. Not sitting.
Don’t think about the boxes.
Don’t think about words like lawyers, separation, official, divorce.
Easy.
He slouched instead, stretching out just enough to look bored. Relaxed. Completely fine. Like if Peter looked at him again, he’d know there was nothing to worry about. Yeah. Totally.
“Okay,” mom said, settling into the armchair across from them.
She didn’t perch.
That was good. When mom perched, it meant she was nervous. But even though she looked calm, she had that expression. The one she used for parent-teacher meetings or those serious video calls with people halfway across the world.
So. Not good.
Which meant Harley had no idea how bad this actually was.
“Let’s start with the fact that no one is in trouble,” mom said, spreading her hands, her blue eyes flicking between their faces.
“I didn’t think we were,” Morgan said, clutching a fistful of Harley’s shirt and shooting a look at Peter which, to Harley, translated roughly to we absolutely did something recently that should’ve gotten us in trouble.
“I wanted to talk to you about something important,” mom added, and Harley felt Peter’s hand slip into his. And yeah, okay, Peter was way too old for hand-holding, but Harley squeezed back anyway.
“So,” mom said, lacing her fingers together, then pulling them apart again. That was new. Mom didn’t fidget. “You know that your dad and I aren’t together anymore.”
“Yeah,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “We noticed.”
Harley might’ve laughed, he really might have, if mom’s smile didn’t look so weirdly unsteady. Like it could slip right off if someone so much as breathed wrong.
So he bumped Peter’s knee with his. Light. A quiet cut it out.
“Right,” mom exhaled. “ And because we’re not together anymore… It means… It means it’s okay for us to see other people.”
“Like… Dating?” Morgan frowned.
“Like dating,” mom said, softer.
Harley gave a small nod. More to himself than to her. He wasn’t stupid. That was how adults worked. They moved on.
And yeah, he’d noticed. A few of her work dinners that made zero sense and somehow dragged on forever. The way she dressed. Definitely not how she dressed to meet coworkers. The smiles at her phone when messages came in.
And just a colleague Stephen who’d dropped her off six months ago, right when Harley, Morgan, and Peter were coming back from the park. Yeah. Sure. Colleague.
“So what, you…” Peter stared at mom like she’d just handed him a math problem with way too many variables. “You have a boyfriend?”
“I’m seeing someone, yes,” mom said after a brief hesitation.
“Does dad know?” Morgan asked.
Harley shut his eyes for a second.
“Yes,” mom said immediately. “Your dad knows.”
“Was he sad?” Morgan pressed. “Or mad?”
“That’s between me and your father,” mom said, one eyebrow lifting in a way that very clearly meant end of discussion.“But we both want the other to be happy.”
Harley looked down at his knees. She wasn’t lying.
But wanting someone to be happy didn’t mean you were okay with it.
“But you still love dad, right?” Peter leaned forward, and Harley had a sudden, very real urge to smack him upside the head.
“We still care about each other very much,” mom said, a hint of hesitation creeping in. Her smile tightened, just a little. “We were married for a long time. He’s your father. That matters.”
“Then why can’t you just… not date?” Peter asked.
Harley felt Morgan nod so hard her weight shifted against his shoulder.
“Because,” mom said, patient in a way Harley had to respect, “ sometimes two people can love each other and still not work as a couple. That doesn’t mean your dad or I love you any less. It doesn’t mean we stop being your parents. It might even mean we’ll be better parents because of it. We’re still a family.”
A family. Yeah. Just… a weird one.
Harley knew how it worked now. Mom was his family. Dad was his family. But mom and dad weren’t each other’s family anymore.
Still. He’d have to be blind not to see it. Mom looked lighter these days. She laughed more. Slept more. That tightness she used to carry around in her eyes was gone.
“And the man I met,” mom continued, “he’s kind. He’s good. And if things keep going this way… I’d like you to meet him.”
“A guy?” Peter grimaced.
“Steve,” mom said.
And Harley saw it. The way she tried to hide the hope behind that neutral expression.
Harley’s brain immediately supplied about a hundred possible Steves he didn’t want to meet. Accountant Steve. Gym Steve. Some random guy in khakis who said sport way too much.
So great.
“Like your doctor friend, Stephen?” Morgan asked, very obviously confused.
“Yeah, Morgan,” Peter shot back, rolling his eyes at her. “That guy’s ancient history.”
Mom actually looked thrown for a second, like she’d somehow forgotten all three of them had functioning brains, and that she hadn’t exactly been subtle about Stephen.
“No…” she said after a beat. “Steve is…”
“It’s okay,” Harley cut in, catching the way Peter’s attention snapped to him, like he was waiting for a cue. “Really. It’s fine.”
He glanced down at Peter, who was staring at him like something had just gone seriously off-script.
“You’re divorced,” Harley went on with a shrug. “You’re allowed to date.”
He knew that. He knew she had every right. He knew she’d spent years holding everything together, giving more than she probably had left to give. He knew she deserved to be happy.
Didn’t stop the image of dad’s empty apartment from sticking, though. Or the fact that dad ate cereal for dinner when they weren’t around. Or how he always stayed on his side of the bed. Like the other half still belonged to someone who wasn’t there anymore.
“I’m happy for you,” he added when mom kept looking at him like he might backtrack any second.
“Harley?” she asked carefully. “You mean that?”
“Mom,” he said, rolling his eyes and giving her his best charm-smile. The one dad always said spelled trouble. “You’re not committing a crime.”
When Peter let out a quiet snort, Harley was almost proud of himself.
“I mean,” he added, holding her gaze, “as long as he’s not some jerk.”
Mom laughed, and just like that, the tension cracked.
“He’s not,” she promised.
“Okay,” Harley said. “Then we’re good.”
They were good. Not excited. Not wrecked. Just… Good enough.
“Alright, then,” mom said, pushing to her feet and heading for the kitchen, already talking about dinner.
Peter was up right after her. Obviously. Peter was a good kid. Helpful, reliable, especially when things got weird. He was probably already offering to chop something, even though mom never let him anywhere near the good knives.
Morgan, meanwhile, instantly got sucked into some chaotic game that involved way too many balls hitting the walls.
Harley watched her for maybe thirty seconds before slipping out onto the terrace. He didn’t slam the door behind him. Not that he could really slam a sliding door. He closed it quietly and dropped into one of the wrought-iron chairs, which was definitely colder than it had any right to be.
He couldn’t see the street from the yard and the buildings blocked out most of the sky. At the right angle, he could catch a glimpse of the tower with their name on it. The one with dad’s apartment at the top.
Harley didn’t try.
He didn’t need a skyline view or some distant silhouette. He needed his dad.
So he pulled out his phone and, without overthinking it, tapped the contact.
And yeah. This wasn’t him being dramatic.
It wasn’t about Steve.
“Harley!” dad answered, a little breathless, like he’d jogged to pick up. “Wow. To what do I owe the honor? Did your siblings finally form a union and demand equal snack rights?”
Harley snorted before he could stop himself. God. He loved that voice.
“Yeah,” he said, tipping his head back to look at the sky. “Mo’s drafting contracts as we speak.”
“Terrifying,” dad said, and Harley could picture the exact face he was making. “I always said she was the real threat.”
Harley closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds bleeding through the phone. Traffic. Muffled voices. Maybe a door shutting somewhere. Just proof that dad existed somewhere out there.
“What’s up?” dad asked after a beat of silence. “Forgot your math homework and need your personal genius on speed dial?”
“I don’t need you for math,” Harley shot back automatically.
“Ouch,” dad said. “That one hurt. Right in the ego.”
Harley hadn’t even realized how tight his shoulders were until dad’s voice started loosening something in them.
“You good over there?” dad asked when Harley didn’t follow up.
“Yeah,” Harley said on autopilot, tracing the pattern in the metal chair with his thumb.
“Actually…” he added after a second, trying to keep it casual. “I was just wondering if… I don’t know. Maybe I could crash at your place tonight?”
Dad didn’t answer right away, and Harley opened his eyes. Yeah. He knew what that meant.
“Tonight?” dad repeated gently, sounding a little surprised.
“It’s fine if not,” Harley rushed to say. “I just… You said I could come over whenever. If I wanted.”
“You absolutely can,” dad said immediately. “You never have to schedule needing me, Har.”
That… didn’t help.
If anything, it made something twist tighter in his chest.
There was another pause. Softer this time.
“I’m in Chicago, though,” dad added. “It’s not my week, so I stacked meetings. I’m flying back Friday.”
Harley stared up at the sky again. A helicopter cut across it, loud and distant.
Yeah. Of course. Not his week.
“Oh,” he said, like it didn’t sting. “Okay. Yeah, that’s fine.”
“But…” dad cut in quickly. “If something happened. If you need me, I’m on a plane. I mean it. I’ll cancel whatever I have to. Just say the word.”
Harley pressed his lips together, blinking hard, tracking the helicopter like it was suddenly the most important thing in the world.
He could tell him.
He could say mom had a boyfriend. That his name was Steve. That there’d been a whole Couch Talk about it.
He could already picture it. Dad going quiet. That careful kind of quiet. The kind where he’d pretend everything was fine.
“Nothing happened,” Harley said instead.
“Okay,” dad said slowly. “Then what’s going on?”
“I just… wanted to hang out,” Harley said. “I miss you.”
Dad went quiet for a second. Quiet enough that Harley’s vision blurred a little.
“Hey,” dad said, softer now. “I miss you too. All of you. Every day.”
Harley blinked, nodding to absolutely no one.
“You sure everything’s okay?” dad asked again. “You sound… I don’t know.”
“Like what?” Harley asked, even though he could hear it too.
“Like your brain won’t shut up,” dad said.
“Since when is that new?” Harley huffed.
“Yeah, fair,” dad said, exhaling. “Things okay at home?”
“Yeah,” Harley said, quick and easy. “Mom’s making dinner. Peter’s probably alphabetizing the spices, and Morgan’s, I don’t know, launching herself at furniture. So. Normal. Everyone’s fine.”
Dad huffed a laugh, like he could see the whole thing play out.
“You sure you don’t want me to come back?” he asked. “I can rearrange stuff.”
Harley could picture it. Dad canceling meetings, scrambling for a flight, showing up late and exhausted, acting like it was no big deal while probably losing a couple million in the process.
“No,” Harley said, sharper this time. “Don’t do that. It’s not. I just… Wanted to hear you.”
Dad didn’t push.
“Okay,” he said after a moment. “I’m back Friday. We can do something, just the two of us. Or drag your siblings along. Pancakes? Those weird protein things? And whatever chocolate monstrosity Morgan’s into this week.”
“And Peter’s banana… Thing,” Harley added, smiling a little despite himself.
From inside, mom’s voice carried, yelling at someone to stop running in the house. Loud enough that dad probably caught it too.
“Hey, don’t disrespect the banana thing,” dad said, and Harley smiled a little wider.“But maybe go help your mom, huh? Or at least make sure your siblings don’t crack their heads open on the stairs.”
“Yeah,” Harley said, glancing back through the glass toward the living room.
“Love you, dad,” he added, quiet enough it barely felt real.
Dad didn’t miss it.
“Love you more,” he said, automatic and steady.
Harley hung up but kept the phone pressed to his ear for a second longer, like maybe he was considering calling back. Asking him to come anyway.
But this wasn’t a crisis. This wasn’t something dad needed to fix.
He got up, heading for the door. He didn’t need dad here right now. Just knowing he would be. That was enough.
Harley was halfway drifting off when he heard the knock.
Not even a real knock. More like a dull thud against the door right before it opened.
“If you’re a murderer, I’m busy,” Harley muttered, not moving. It was way past the time he should’ve been asleep, let alone his siblings.
“It’s me,” Morgan whispered.
“That’s worse,” Harley groaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “If you broke something, go to mom.”
“I didn’t break anything,” Morgan said.
“Then what?” Harley sighed, lifting his head.
Morgan hovered in the doorway in dinosaur pajamas, hair all over the place, no slippers.
“Can I sleep here?”
“No,” Harley said, already dropping his head back down.
Morgan walked in anyway. Of course she did.
Harley rolled onto his back just in time to watch her climb into his bed like she paid rent.
“Your feet are freezing,” he hissed when she touched his bare leg with what felt like actual icicles.
“They’re not cold,” she insisted.
“That’s a registered weapon,” he muttered.
Morgan giggled and curled closer. Harley tried to shift so her bony elbows wouldn’t bruise his ribs when the door opened again.
“Har?” Peter said from the doorway, looking way too serious for the middle of the night.
“Wow. Open-door policy is thriving,” Harley muttered, pushing himself up.
“We need to talk,” Peter announced, stepping up to the bed.
“Now?” Harley asked, even though one look at Peter told him there was no rescheduling this.
“Yes,” Peter said firmly, climbing onto the bed and sitting cross-legged. Morgan copied him instantly.
“So?” Peter said quietly, looking at Harley like he was chairing a meeting. “What’s our strategy?”
“For what?” Harley asked, even though he had a pretty solid guess.
“For mom’s guy,” Morgan supplied, like it was obvious.
“There is no strategy,” Harley said, dragging a hand over his face. “This isn’t an invasion.”
“It could be,” Peter frowned, like he was genuinely considering it.
Harley almost laughed at how seriously a ten-year-old could say something like that.
“He’s just a guy mom’s dating,” Harley said. “We’re not panicking over stuff that hasn’t even happened. She just said we might meet him.”
“But she likes him,” Morgan protested, a little too loudly.
“Shh,” Harley hissed automatically.
“And we like dad,” Peter added, leaning in like this was classified information.
“Yeah,” Harley said, nodding, looking at both of them, their wide eyes, their too-serious faces.
“So what?” Peter pressed. “We’re just supposed to act like we’re okay with this? Like we like him?”
“I don’t want to lie,” Morgan said, frowning.
Harley let out a slow breath, thinking about the way mom had said Steve’s name. Like she’d tried to keep it casual, but there’d been something softer underneath. Hope.
“We’re not lying,” Harley said finally. “We’re… fair.”
“What if he sucks?” Peter asked, arms crossed.
“Then he sucks,” Harley shrugged. “We don’t know the guy. He could be fine. Could be annoying. Could chew loud. We have no idea.”
“If he chews loud, he’s disqualified,” Morgan said with a dramatic sigh, like that was objectively the worst outcome. Harley nudged her lightly.
“Okay, official ruling,” Harley declared. “We’re nice. We don’t make it weird. Mom deserves to be happy.”
“Isn’t she?” Morgan asked, suddenly sounding small. Worried.
“I hope she is,” Harley said, because he couldn’t promise more than that.
“What if dad’s sad?” Morgan asked.
“Dad’s fine,” Harley said automatically, even as something tightened in his chest.
“Is he?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.
Harley… Didn’t know.
“Guys, seriously,” Harley said, rubbing his face. “Mom can do what she wants. She’s an adult. And we’re not hating someone we haven’t even met.”
“I don’t hate him,” Peter said quickly. “I just… Don’t want him.”
“Yeah, okay,” Harley sighed. “You’re still not allowed to sabotage anything.”
“Sabotage?” Peter blinked, like that thought had definitely not crossed his mind.
“No interrogations,” Harley listed. “No weird tests. No ‘what are your intentions with our mother’ speeches.”
Peter looked personally offended, which honestly just proved the point. But Morgan suddenly giggled and launched herself at Harley. It might’ve been meant as a hug, but her knees slammed into his stomach and his head knocked back against the wall.
“Hey!” Harley snapped as Peter tried to push her off and somehow made it worse.
So Harley did the only reasonable thing. He attacked.
Fingers to Morgan’s sides, immediate retaliation.
“Harley!” she squealed, breaking into helpless laughter, kicking Peter in the process, who was now half hanging off the bed.“Stop!”
The door flew open.
Mom stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. Full Pepper Stark stance.
“If the three of you would like to ever see the Xbox again,” she said calmly, “you will be asleep in five minutes.”
All three of them froze instantly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Peter said right away.
Morgan vanished under the blanket like that might save her.
“We’re conducting diplomatic negotiations,” Harley said, flashing a grin and lifting his hands.
“Conduct them unconscious,” mom replied dryly, eyeing the pile of limbs on the bed. “Sleep. Now. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, mom,” they mumbled in unison.
She shook her head, closing the door behind her.
Harley exhaled and dropped back onto the pillows, wedged between them.
“Con…” Morgan started.
“Sleep,” Harley cut her off, gently shoving her head into the pillow.