Chapter Text
By the sixth stop, Harley’s starting to get bored. They’re entering the more fun parts of the building: physics, chemistry, all the cool stuff that goes ‘boom’, but nothing interesting has happened.
Peter’s still… well, he’s sulking, let’s be honest, here, and Flash is still getting in his way.
On the fourth stop, during their tour of the marketing department, Harley had overheard a conversation between Flash and Peter.
“Soon, everyone’s gonna find out how much of a liar you are,” Flash had promised.
Peter just sighed and walked away, only for one of Flash’s goons to trip him up.
The sight made Harley’s blood boil.
Harley fiddles with his phone, leading the group into the R&D labs.
“This is where the fun stuff happens,” he says. “I know the Physics department was fun with the dorky experiments, but R&D’s my personal favourite. I’m sure you’ll all find out why soon.”
So far, no one’s really noticed the group. Sure, employees have scurried away from them as not to be roped into annoying teenager questions, but no one’s noticed Peter. Yet.
Peter spends most of his time in Tony’s personal labs, but Harley’s almost a hundred percent sure that he visits R&D at least once a week. The place thrives when he’s there, and whenever Harley visits, if Peter’s not with Tony, he’s messing about in R&D with the other interns.
Someone’s bound to recognise Peter, and that stupid bully will get proved wrong once and for all.
“Y’all’re gonna be doin’ a competition,” announces Harley. The class erupts into cheers. He grins, “I’mma be your judge.”
“What’re we supposed to do to win?” asks a cute Asian girl with pigtails. ‘Cindy Moon’ is what her badge says.
“Make something with this,” says Harley, kicking the box beneath the main desk. “It’s a load of useless shit- I mean, stuff, and you’re free to do whatever you like with it. I’ve been told to tell y’all ‘the less explosions the better’, but I love blowing stuff up, so I can’t really talk. Oh, and work in however big a group you want.”
The competition starts and Harley can finally take a step back: the first time since lunch ended. He watches as Peter makes a bee-line towards the box of scraps, burrowing through it like a mole digging its den. Harley grins as Peter emerges from the scrap box with a ball of red yarn. He has no idea what Peter’s planning, but from the ecstatic look on Peter’s face, it’s gonna be good.
Then his smile drops when Flash approaches. Harley goes to warn Peter, but a hand closes around his arm, tugging him back, stopping him.
He whirls around - who would stop him? A student who needs help and genuinely didn’t notice?
“Oh,” he says, staring into the eyes of the Black Widow.
She smirks. “Oh, indeed,” she says. Her eyes lift over his shoulder, glancing at Peter.
Harley turns back, and finds Flash leaning over Peter’s shoulder. Peter still hasn’t noticed his bully looming over him, too enthralled by the scrap box to realise. Anger curdles in Harley’s belly.
“Why did you stop me?” he asks. She’s a spy. She’s bound to have known what he was going to do.
“Evidence,” she answers simply.
Harley scowls but stays in place, watching as Flash raises a foot and kicks Peter in the back. Peter tumbles over head-first, landing heavily on his hands and knees. Flash grins smugly.
“Feeling clumsy today, are we, Parker?” he taunts.
Flash’s eyes land on the scraps clutched in Peter’s hands. More specifically, a small, supposedly useless motor engine that’d been thrown out days ago for being too old-fashioned for R&D’s liking.
“What’s that?” he says, snatching it from Peter’s grip.
Peter reluctantly lets him, staring after the motor engine mournfully.
“Looks dumb,” says Flash. He drops the motor engine and, in one smooth action, kicks it across the room.
It flies into the air, smashing into a sprinkler and breaking the glass, causing a chain reaction. The sprinkler begins to pour, setting off the other sprinklers that are attached to the same system and, in the same vein, setting the fire alarm off.
The ringing is sharp and piercing and definitely isn’t helped by Peter’s superhearing. Harley rushes over to plant his hands over Peter’s ears, scowling at Flash.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Flash shrugs, apparently indifferent, and walks away.
“Flash,” warns their teacher, Mr Warren, but he doesn’t make a move to do anything. It just annoys Harley further.
A few minutes later, the lab is back to normal, albeit slightly damper than usual. Peter’s already gathered his materials and is back at his station, deep in concentration as he works.
Flash is spending the building time laughing and cracking jokes with his friends rather than focusing, and it shows in his creation: a sad looking miniature race-car that can barely manage more than a meter of movement.
“Alright, time’s up!” calls Harley. He’s been stuck to his phone like a teenage addict the entire time and hasn’t gotten a chance to look around, but he’s sure Peter’s created something brilliant.
Flash’s group, of course, shoves to the front, presenting his invention first. It’s a bulky, dreary little thing. The vehicle, about the size of a watermelon, is fitted with a pre-made motor, three wheels stuck in odd places, and antenna sticking out of the top of the car. The car’s clearly modeled after a race-car. Flash gives it a little push and the motor chugs to life, its wheels rotating and lasting about four feet before it totters off balance, crashing into the floor.
Flash grins as if he’s been awarded gold at the Olympics.
“Very good,” Harley says stiffly, prompting the next contestant to step forward.
One girl presents an auto-collecting trash can that goes around picking up litter it finds left on the floor. A boy who introduces himself as Abe shows off his automatic lighter - a friction-based pocket craft that creates sparks at the press of a button.
Peter’s group is last. It’s him, the scary girl, and the lego nerd. Ned and MJ, Harley thinks - if he’s remembered correctly.
“We- we made a, uh, a robotic spider.” Peter stammers, stepping aside to reveal a small, compact little robot perched on the worktop behind him.
It had little robotic legs, a small round disk as its head with glowing red eyes and the previously mentioned ball of yarn wrapped around a thin metal spool. Upon noticing the crowd watching, the spider twitches, its tiny robotic parts churning as it twists round, sticking its butt in the air and shooting off the yarn. The yarn, equipped with a miniature grapple, tightens around an iron rung hanging from the ceiling and lifts the baby spider machine in the air.
A bit of a giveaway, but cute nonetheless.
Harley resists the temptation to coo at the cute robot as it swings back and forth, struggling to collect its own balance.
“The idea is that it can, I dunno, record stuff- like a spy.” explains Peter.
“We stylized it off the Black Widow,” says MJ.
“Or Spiderman,” chirps Ned.
“Wicked,” whispers Harley, admiring the spider. Its spindly legs curl and twirl as it lowers itself back to the ground. “How does it know what to do?”
“Oh, it’s remote-controlled,” says MJ, plucking a remote out of Peter’s hands from behind his back.
“Actually,” interrupts Peter, “There’s an electro-magnet in the grapple-gun. The remote switches the magnet on and off. It’s the best we could do with what we’ve got, but if this became a legit thing, I’d probably use an AI system, or something.”
“But you’d still be operating the grapple-gun with a magnet?” says Harley.
“Oh, yeah, of course.” Peter pauses, then, after a second, says, “What do you think?”
“I love it, Petey,” says Harley, momentarily forgetting the audience gathered around them. “How do the legs work?”
“They shrink temporarily when a voltage is applied, but the backlegs use wires that constrict and such when pulled,” says Peter.
“Where’s the battery stored?”
“In the head. Though, if it were a proper device, we’d want space to fit the recording device and something to keep the memory in.”
The two of them, Peter and Harley, fit together like pieces in a puzzle. Their brains connected the first day they met and never went back. It’s so easy to slide back into habit, rabbiting on to each other about their newest inventions.
“How many Watts does it use? Or- no, it’s milliWatts, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, uh, we haven’t actually measured that yet,” says Peter.
“Oh, no, darlin’, I wasn’t expecting you to.” Harley says, moving closer to inspect the spider further.
“Erm, excuse me?” says Flash, knocking past Peter with his dumb race-car in hand. “Are you going to say who won or not?”
“Oh, right…” Harley straightens up, looking around. Everyone’s staring. Oops. He does a sweep of all the inventions created, but there’s no point, really - he’s already decided. “It’s gotta go to Pete.”
Flash’s face turns red. “You can’t do that,” he says indignantly.
Harley blinks. “Why not?”
“Because- just because!” snaps Flash, raising his race-car up, “Mine was better!”
Harley squints at the race-car, and then at Flash. “Er, no, it’s not,” he says. “I mean, it’s good and all, but I’m just saying…”
“Flash, he’s the judge,” urges the kinder of the two teachers. “And maybe he’s right. You can’t always be the best.”
A couple of murmurs spread through the crowd. Flash scowls, throwing his race-car to the ground. It smashes into a load of little pieces as he storms off to stand angrily by the door.
Harley watches him go, unamused.
“Well,” he says, “how about we move on.”
“What’s next?” asks a blonde girl with the name ‘Betty Brant’ labelled on her badge.
“Industrial chemistry.”
Peter winces. Ouch, industrial chemistry. Knowing Flash… that’s going to be a disaster, then. Industrial chemistry is where all the explosive stuff goes down - miniature big-bangs popping up all over the place. You can’t get out of there without at least a little bit of your eyebrow singed off.
Harley’s quick with it, steering them through the department in record time. But not fast enough to avoid an accident.
Someone trips. Over a shoelace, or someone else’s foot, who knows. Either way, their falling causes a domino effect.
Cindy falls into Betty who tumbles into Abe who shrieks, pulling one of Flash’s cronies down with him. Flash’s cronies go down in a group, as if tied together, and finally, down goes Flash, who, at the very last minute, snatches hold of Peter’s shirt and tugs him into the domino pile.
Along the way, someone manages to knock over something or other. A glass flask falls, knocking Peter on the head and crashing to the floor. The flask shatters into a million pieces as a clear liquid spills over the floor in an enlarging puddle.
“Uh oh,” whispers Peter.
His spidey senses go off like fireworks in his head, but he can’t move without displaying an amount of strength Puny Parker shouldn’t have. So he has to sit there, watching the strange liquid come closer to him as his fellow students begin to detangle themselves.
It takes too long and soon Peter finds out what the liquid is. It’s some sort of acid - probably hydrochloric, considering how it’s eating through his clothes and sizzling against his flesh.
Shit, that hurts. Now, Peter does have superstrength. But it still hurts like a bitch. And he’s still sitting there, clenching his teeth and putting up with the pain when Harley shrieks, “Shit!” and rushes to his side.
“Holy shit, Pete, are you okay?” he asks, helping Peter up and inspecting the wound.
The acid’s bitten through his sleeve, and has begun to nibble at his outer layers of skin. A minor injury, in Peter’s opinion.
“You need to go to the nurse,” says Harley, grabbing Peter by his (unharmed) arm and leading him to the door.
“No!” begs Peter, “Seriously, Harls, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”
They both observe the acid burn on his arm.
“Pete,” begins Harley.
“Harley.”
“You can’t-”
“I can, and I will.” snaps Peter. That’s the end of the conversation.
He snatches his arm back and hurries back over to where a lady in a lab coat is hastily sweeping up the glass and setting up a small hands-off area around the spillage.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, but the lady shakes her head.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Stuff like this happens all the time- wait. Do I know you?”
Has she recognised him? “No…?” says Peter, but the uncertainty in his voice makes the lady frown.
“Well, if you say so…”
“Parker!” barks Mr Warren, looking enraged. He’s got Flash hovering behind him. “What have you done?”
“Nothing!” squeaks Peter, but Mr Warren obviously isn’t about to believe him.
“You can’t just go and cause a spillage in such a dangerous place! Didn’t Mr Keener say not to touch anything, or weren’t you listening?”
“Mr Warren-”
“I’ll be speaking to your aunt about this.”
Peter pales. Aunt May has been dead for what feels like a very long time, now. The school hasn’t had to contact his guardian so far, and they have no idea that he’s under Tony’s responsibility now. There’s no way to explain that one.
“Please don’t, I’ll do anything!”
“Anything?” says Flash, a cruel grin stretching across his face. “Mr Warren, everyone knows Parker’s been lying about his internship. Maybe you should get him to confess.”
Mr Warren’s eyes narrow. “Yes,” he says. “Mr Parker? I expect you to apologise to this young lady.”
He gestures to the lady mopping up the mess nearby.
Peter and the lady exchange a glance. She shakes her head, as if to say, ‘you don’t have to’, but it’s not like Peter’s got a choice.
“I’m sorry,” says Peter.
“For?” prompts Mr Warren.
“For causing a spillage.”
“That’s not what I mean, Parker,” says Mr Warren, his voice a hint of a warning.
There’s a creaking sound from behind Peter. He glances over his shoulder to find Harley standing there, visibly seething with anger, his fist clenched around the edge of a workbench as he watches.
“I didn’t lie! I’m not lying!” protests Peter.
Still, Mr Warren won’t believe him. No one will. They all think he’s some sort of loser who makes up wild lies to make himself look better.
“Okay!” says Harley, calling in the group, and conveniently interrupting the situation. “Our next stop is Dr. Stark’s personal lab.”
Peter frowns; he’s fairly sure that’s not a part of field trips. Like, ever. Harley’s planning something, and that usually never ends well when other people are involved.
The class erupts in excitement.
“His personal lab!” squeals Cindy.
Someone else, over the fray, says, “He’s hot!” and Peter wrinkles his nose at the thought.
Tony, being hot? Ew, no way. He’s an old grumpy git half the time.
The crowd easily moves on from the incident, and as the students thin out, MJ and Ned find their way to Peter.
“Dude, are you okay?” asks Ned.
“I’m fine,” grumbles Peter. Really, he is. There’s nothing to worry about. One small acid burn won’t hurt him. It’ll heal up in a matter of minutes and all will be resolved.
Harley stays at the front of the group, leading them to the elevator and keeping himself away from Peter. There’s no real reason for him to be upset, but they’re teenagers, and shit happens. Harley’s no doubt more upset with Peter snapping at him than the actual reality of the situation. They both know Peter will heal it away too quickly for it to be a problem, but Harley still worries.
“Friday,” says Harley, “Take us to Tony’s lab.”
“Access granted,” says FRIDAY, spooking the group.
“What was that?” asks Betty.
Harley grins, “Oh, it’s just the AI plugged into the building. She has eyes and ears everywhere, by the way.”
Peter shrinks into his hoodie. That’s never a good thing. FRIDAY doesn’t usually keep her eyes open at all times, but she has a tendency to watch over Peter, which means there’s a good chance she’s caught a lot of stuff on camera - stuff to do with Flash.
Tony’s speakers are blasting the Hotel California guitar solo when the tour group arrives on his workshop’s floor. They hover in the elevator awkwardly as Harley checks ahead to make sure Tony isn’t doing anything incriminating.
“Come in,” calls Harley, and the students flurry in like water flowing through a broken dam.
It’s Tony Stark’s personal lab, afterall, who wouldn’t be excited?
Peter’s one of the last in, as per usual, and is spotted by Tony straight away.
“Welcome,” Tony says awkwardly, clearly caught off guard. He’s wearing his signature tank-top, the arc reactor glowing through, an eerie but calming blue light in the dark room.
“Er- Fri, turn on the lights, would you?” says Tony. “Welcome to my lab… kids…”
Harley muffles a hitched giggle.
“Mr Iron Man, sir,” says one of the kids, “Is that arc reactor real?” he asks, pointing to Tony’s heart.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. It is.” Tony surveys the group. “Er… any other questions?”
Peter darts through the crowd like a snake, grabbing Harley by the arm and pulling him to the back of the crowd.
“What’s going on?” he hisses.
Harley shrugs, a smile ever-present on his face. “I thought y’all might wanna see the great Mr Stark’s labs,” he says.
“Yeah, I get that, but it’s clear that Tony hasn’t slept in, like, a month,” says Peter.
They look back to Tony, who’s swaying slightly on his feet as he answers a question about advanced quantum mechanics.
“It’s quite simple, really,” says Tony, “The uncertainty principle - that’s what you asked about, yeah?” the kid nods- “You just have to consider that, given a quantum state, the Born rule lets us compute…”
He drivels on in the background as Peter turns back to Harley.
“What were you thinking?”
Harley shrugs again. “It’s fine,” he says airily. “Tony’s fine. I’m more concerned about you, darlin’.”
Peter raises an eyebrow. “Me?” he says. “Harley, it’s just a little burn, okay? It’ll heal, like, immediately-”
“That’s not what I’m talking ‘bout, snookums,”
“Please- stop with the weird pet names, babe.”
“I will when you agree that something's wrong here, baby doll.”
“Oh, that’s worse- look, I get that you’re concerned, but I have it covered,” says Peter.
Harley gives him a doubtful look.
“I’m fine,” he reaffirms, but it’s clear that Harley isn’t taking no as an answer.
“Excuse me!” says a familiar annoying voice.
Peter tunes back into the crowd. Tony seems to have taken the opportunity to begin a Q&A, and so far hasn’t fainted yet. It’s impressive, certainly, but Peter’s getting worried. There’s no saying how long Tony’s been up.
The voice, belonging to Flash, continues, “What would happen if, hypothetically, a high-schooler were to impersonate an intern?”
Tony blinks slowly. “Impersonate an intern?” he repeats. “Why would they do that?”
“Just, hypothetically.”
“I dunno,” says Tony, frowning. “Got anyone in mind, kid?”
Flash’s face lights up. “Yes,” he says eagerly. “You see that boy over there?”
Oh no. He’s waving his hand frantically in Peter’s direction. The crowd disperses around Peter like the Red Sea to reveal him to Tony, who sniffs and narrows his eyes.
“What about him?” says Tony.
Okay, something’s off. Tony’s being… weird. Very weird. And it’s seriously starting to concern Peter.
“He’s spreading rumours that he has an internship here even though everyone knows he’s lying.” Flash says.
“How do you know he’s lying?” asks Tony. He’s still got his gaze on Peter, harsh and calculating.
“W-well, he, uh- it just doesn’t make sense, y’know?” stammers Flash.
“What if I don’t know?” challenges Tony.
Flash is at a loss for words. It’s clear that he’s nervous; that he doesn’t know what to say next.
“Peter Parker,” Tony begins, “is one of the best people I know. He’s smart, he’s kind, he’s gentle, he’s loyal, he’s caring, he’s everything I could ever want to be. Do you get that, kiddo? He’s better than me in every way.”
Flash just nods numbly. His face is drained of all color. On the contrary, Peter’s blushing like a tomato.
“Anyway, if that’s all-”
“Wait, you actually know Penis Parker?” interrupts Flash, having woken himself out of his stupor.
Tony freezes. “What was that?” he says.
“Why him?” asks Flash. “What’s so special about someone like that? You do know he kills everyone he loves, right? You’re in danger, sir.”
“I’m sorry?”
“His parents died, and then his uncle, and no one’s seen his aunt for months so she’s probably either run away or offed herself too.”
Tony turns on Peter.
Peter trusts Tony, but it looks like Tony’s finally turning on him. Peter understands that - he’s made a lot of mistakes over the years, and maybe… maybe Tony’s just gotten sick of it.
“What’s the meaning of this?” asks Tony.
“I’m sorry,” says Peter, because he doesn’t know what else to say. What is there to do but apologize? Hell, he’ll even give up the suit if that’s what it takes to get Tony to trust him again.
Tony frowns. “No, no, Petey, not that- I’m not mad at you, honey,” he says, taking Peter into his arms for a loose hug. “I’m just… confused. Who is this? Why’s he saying this stuff?”
Peter bites down on his lip, hard. The pain is enough to ease his mind.
“He’s telling the truth, you know.” Peter says.
He’s like a virus: Flash is right. No one survives the Parker luck.
The hug tightens. Tony whispers, “I don’t think that’s true, Roo,” so quietly that Peter’s sure no one else could hear it. “Now why don’t we prove them wrong?”
At that, he gently pries Peter away, nodding to Harley and turning back to the class. “I’ve got some friends I think you’d like to meet,” he says. “I know they’re not half as exciting as my workshop, but apparently kids these days just love the Avengers. Can’t see why, honestly.”