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UP- a love story through the years
“Been a while since I was in front of you. I figure I’ll stick to the cards this time. There’s been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop–”
A young boy is sitting in front of the tv, small face practically smushed against the screen as he stares at the bright images with eyes wide open.
He’s heard the stories, seen the news.
There’s a real superhero out there, made of Iron.
And now he’s listening to his science hero talk about the events while his aunt and uncle prepare dinner together in the kitchen.
“Well, good, because that would be outlandish and fantastic. I’m just not the hero type, clearly, with this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I’ve made, largely public–”
The tinny voice of one of the richest and best scientists in the world comes out of the small living room speakers. Peter’s enthralled by every word that comes out of the man’s mouth, but in a way he also doesn’t want to believe it.
Tony Stark is a superhero. Iron Man or not. Peter may be young but he knows that Tony’s papers and inventions are one of a kind. The best of its kind.
He’s revolutionising the world and inspiring the younger generation; everything that a superhero is supposed to do.
So what if he isn’t the newly sighted man in metal?
But with the sudden pause that befalls the inventor on screen the boy’s eyes widen even more, filled up with hope and wonder.
What if–
And then, “The truth is: I am Iron Man.”
***
He’s at the playground, Iron Man toy in hand, weaving over the path, skipping over rocks and sticks, the pavement a world of his imagination.
He knows his aunt and uncle are watching from a park bench just a few feet away, but they don’t matter right now.
There are other kids, playing in the sandbox together, but they also don’t matter.
Peter knows he doesn’t fit in with them.
Yes, they play make believe just like he does, but they play knights or pirates.
Peter prefers Superheroes, or he wants to find out what the sand is made up out of, yearns to put it under the microscopes he knows are collecting dust in the school cabinets.
And thus he plays alone. Or well, not all on his own.
In the past his father played with him, and his mother hugged him afterwards if they were too rough or wild and he fell and hurt his knee. She helped him breathe after he raced his father, making his asthma act up. Or sometimes she comforted him after being scared of a big spider, or meaner kids at the park.
Nowadays Uncle Ben plays with him. But he was always a bit older than Richard and doesn’t have as much energy as him. Peter isn’t as lively as he used to be either, but still more capable of running and ducking and climbing than his uncle.
Most of the time he plays with his Iron Man doll. It’s a small replica of the suit and if he presses hard enough on the sound button he might be able to hear a superhero catchphrase through the dying battery.
His Iron Man doll doesn’t play alone either. It has Peter himself, an Iron Man side-kick, no– even cooler–superhero in training.
For his birthday, Peter received an Iron Man Mask, a good one from the official merchandise line.
He treasures it like nothing else. Cleans it, stores it safely. But mostly he wears it, knowing that someday, he can be a superhero too.
Right now the mask is knocking against his glasses with every jump and step he takes. In his mind, he and Iron Man are about to turn the corner where a big scary Alien is waiting to be defeated when another voice breaks into his fantasy.
“ –stay calm, Iron Man is here to save the day!”
On the other side of the playground a boy comes running in, palm raised in front of his small body.
He appears around Peter’s age, maybe a bit older, at least taller. A huge grin adorns his face and decently long dirty blond hair flows behind him as he runs around, making zapping sounds as he goes.
There’s a weird device strapped to his palms that he points in every other direction while making more of the noises.
Peter keeps staring, eyes following the boy around the playground. He simply can’t look away.
It might be the joy and youthfulness that he misses from himself. How unabashed he yells and lets his voice carry around the playground, something Peter can only remember doing when his father was still by his side.
But this boy also just looks so fun and kind. So alive. And he likes Iron Man! Just like Peter!
Then the boy catches sight of the small slide, “It’s time to go up into the sky!” The boy yells, placing his hands behind his back before racing towards the slide.
It’s a small wooden house, adorned with a red roof, under which is an opening that the slide comes out of. It’s not too high, just a couple of feet. The ladder on the backside only has five steps so Peter knows that it isn’t that high up but his mouth still falls open as he watches the new kid run up the slide and disappear into the house.
He stands there, mouth gaping a bit longer. Maybe this boy really is a superhero in training. It did look like he flew up the slippery steel plate.
Determined to find out more, Peter moves closer to the slide until he is standing at the back of it, looking up at the ladder.
He’s slowly getting more nervous, ‘shy’ is the word that his teachers always use to talk about him. But his scientific instinct wins out, he needs to find out if this boy really has superpowers.
Slowly he climbs the bottom steps until his eyes manage to peek over the edge and into the small house.
His gaze immediately locks onto another set of blue eyes.
“Who may you be? Another Iron Man fan, huh?” The boy says with a slight accent while his eyes flick from Peter’s to the mask on top of his head and back.
“Only the real and best Iron Man fans may join my secret club.” He suddenly declares and Peter starts to slightly shrink back down from the intensity of it all.
He knows it isn’t very brave, or very superhero-esque, but he can’t help it. Peter doesn’t talk much with other kids his age as is, and this kid is an enigma.
“Are you the real deal?” the kid ponders for a moment, finger tapping his chin before diving into his pocket. “Of course you are, welcome!” he cheers and reaches out to press something onto the Iron Man mask atop Peter’s head.
Hesitantly he climbs into the little house on top of the slide and sits down as far away from the other boy as he can, Iron Man doll placed in his lap.
And then something magical happened; they had fun. Together.
They discussed Iron Man theories together, the make up of his suit for example–it can’t really be iron after all.
Turns out the other kid, who he finds out is called Harley, is also into science, just like him!
The weird devices strapped to the palms of his hands turned out to be home-made repulsor gloves, based on the science behind flashlights.
In Peter’s opinion, they’re absolutely awesome.
And so is Harley himself.
The boy is practically bouncing off the walls the entire time they hang out, rambling on about stories and theories and just whatever comes to his mind.
And Peter watches along and nods when appropriate, a smile on his face.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” Harley asks after another long winded retelling of his adventures in the garden at home, which is apparently in a town called Rose Hill.
Truth is, Peter doesn’t talk much. He did, once, when he felt normal.
Back then the worst things that could happen were getting bullied, nightmares or the gross flavoured juice box being packed into his lunchbox.
Now those things are still there, but without his parents to comfort him.
When Aunt May and Uncle Ben took him in, he said absolutely nothing during the day, and only asked for his parents at night.
After a little while he got used to the new normal, but that included a more quiet Peter, who comforted himself instead of having someone there to do it for him, a parent, and so he didn’t feel the need to speak up as much anymore, to share his thoughts.
The excitement of it just wasn’t there anymore.
But after Harley is picked up by his mom, Peter walks back to his aunt and uncle on the park bench and studies his familiar Iron Man helmet.
It’s now adorned by a ‘science bros’ sticker, he rubs his finger over it and thinks that maybe, just maybe, Harley is someone he’ll want to talk to.
***
“Kids, time for a break!” Harley’s mom calls for them from the bench area of the playground. They hurry over to retrieve their own juice box and factory made cookies that Harley’s younger sister seems to be munching on already.
They’re practically out of breath as they inhale their drinks. Both boys have been running around so much it’s a surprise that they still have any stamina left.
Peter especially, is getting quite tired. He had begged Aunt May that late morning to be taken to the playground again so he could spend time with Harley. Aunt May, heart warmed at his enthusiasm to be around other kids his age brought him around at exactly noon. She had a brief conversation with Harley’s mother, a kind woman named Macy, to make sure her nephew was taken care of as she left for work and exchanged cell phone numbers.
Since then the two boys have been racing around the playground, slaying each and every make belief villain in their path.
Peter had even been allowed to use Harley’s glove repulsors while he lent out his own helmet to the latter. It was so cool but he wanted to be careful, make sure he didn’t damage anything from his new friend. But Harley had spotted that all too quickly and dragged him over to the climbing frames and told him to go all out or he’d steal the gloves back and shoot Peter instead.
Now two full hours later he’s heaving as he tries to take a bite out of his cookie which just crumbles in his clenched hand as he unsuccessfully tries to calm himself down.
“Here sweetie, how about the two of y’all take a break.” Macy calmly says while pressing his inhaler into his hands.
He nods gratefully as he takes a few puffs, feeling the rattling and squeezing in his chest reduce.
“Dad!” Harley suddenly speaks up from beside him, bouncing up from his seat. “Did you bring my bag? I need it, pleaseee.”
“Sure do, buddy. Here ya go.” the man chuckles. Lifting the bag away from where he had discarded it under the table. “Be careful with your things, alright? We don’t want you to lose anything in this city.”
His son quickly nods, pulling Peter by the arm again and calling out a quick affirmation over his shoulder.
Together they make their way over to the small slide, this time taking the ladder side to climb their way inside and huddle together in a corner.
“What I’m about to show you is a secret, you can’t tell anyone about it!” Harley proudly exclaims while unzipping his backpack. “I carry it everywhere with me to make sure no one gets their hands on it. Aha! Here it is, my notebook!”
Peter looks over to see a bright red notebook. The cover is pretty worn and there are news clippings sticking out from all three open sides. He slowly leans closer, curiosity filling him up inside as Harley prepares to flick the cover open.
“My Adventure Book.” Peter reads the red cover softly before they start going through the pages.
“One day I’m going to be a real superhero too. I write everything down here to make sure I can be as good as Iron Man is.” Harley starts as he points at a picture of the man. The book is absolutely filled with all things superheroes, mostly Iron Man. News clippings from his first sighting to his most recent rescue. In between there are small sections of notes, calculations and bullet points with article names.
“If I can just figure out what the suit is made up of, I’m sure I can make one of my own.” Harley confidently says. Not in a way that sounds overly boastful or to make someone jealous. Instead it sings with determination and a longing to prove himself. Peter understands that, and thus respects the other boy immensely for it.
“I have even written down all of the articles Tony Stark has published, so that when I’m older and smarter I can read them. Maybe there are clues hidden in them!” Harley continues, his face pressed close to Peter’s as he breathes the words out.
“So cool” Peter breathes back at him, both kids smiling brightly now.
“We can be superheroes together! And make the whole world safe and happy.” the blond haired kid says resolutely. “What would you do with your superpowers?”
Peter ponders the question for a moment, still flipping through the notebook as he thinks of all the things he wants to do or change.
He knows he’s young, and doesn’t understand everything yet. Doesn’t know about all the hardships in the world but he isn’t too gullible to it either. He knows his family struggles with money like many others. He knows loneliness, and other people being mean to you. And he knows loss.
That’s when his eye falls onto a picture of Tony’s family, an old picture that could never be remade with all of its people in it.
“I want to protect families. Make sure everyone has a happy family to get home to.” He points at the picture blindly, staring into Harley’s eyes in hope that he understands.
Luckily, it seems he does. He smiles widely before grabbing a pen and writing a bold ‘#1’ next to the picture.
“That’s really good of you. We’d need lots of planning though. And the suit of course, so everyone knows we’re the good guys.” Harley’s smile is removed from view as he flicks Peter’s Iron Man mask over his face.
“I just don’t know how to make it yet. But don’t worry, one day I’ll figure it out.”
And it’s that moment when Peter feels so seen and understood, sitting next to this amazing boy in their secret hideout that he vows to help his new friend. They’ll figure it out, and do it all together. He feels it so deep in his soul, nothing can stop them now.
It’ll be their adventure.
***
“Come on, Peter!” Harley yells at him from the top of the slide. “We gotta go up into the sky. Superrrrr high, just like Iron Man!”
The metal slide glints in the sunlight and Peter has to look away or the glare reflects painfully through his glasses.
So instead he looks just a bit higher and finds Harley’s eyes that smile as big as his mouth.
Peter’s supposed to run up the slide, just like Harley always does when he plays superhero.
Peter wants to be a superhero too.
He closes his eyes, breathes deep, letting the wind enter his system, making him as light as the air around him, exhales and–
He starts running, up the metal slide, feet clanging as he gains traction on the slippery surface.
Faintly he hears Harley cheering him on, fist punching the air as Peter makes his way up towards him.
And then it’s like he’s flying, like a real superhero. Nothing beneath his feet, just the air bringing him along for the ride.
The illusion is shattered by a harsh snap when he lands on the unforgiving hard ground next to the playhouse, arm cushioning the rest of his body from the impact.
Peter looks back at the slide, tears blurring his vision and sees that no, he didn’t fly.
He fell.
And it hurts.
It hurts because he probably broke his arm. Feels the pain, heard the snapping sound.
But what hurts the most is that these are the last few days that Harley will spend on vacation in New York, but now probably without Peter.
He practically has to be dragged to the emergency room, Harley’s broken look is burned into his vision, more painful than the break in his arm.
It just hurts.
***
When Peter was five he fell in love with the universe.
He was fascinated by all of it. How it works, what’s left to explore and just the absolute beauty of it all.
He always felt like, the higher he could physically get, the closer he’d be to all the answers.
Maybe if he was a grown up, just like his dad, he’d finally know how everything worked–or maybe the beauty of it is that there’s always more to explore.
Whichever it is, he’s sure he’ll find out when he’s older, taller, closer to the universe.
He’d stare at airplanes or hot air balloons, wondering if the people in them could feel the atmosphere around them.
Stars would invite him in at night, their patterns creating more mysteries.
When Tony Stark revealed he was Iron Man, Peter was finally sure.
Mr. Stark has flown around the world and combined the stars together. Tony Stark knows all the answers of the universe, he must.
And so Peter’s addiction with the world around him grew larger, often begging to stay up just a bit longer to stargaze.
He’d sit on his window frame, stare up into the night’s dark abyss, way past his bedtime. Hoping the stars have the answer, why must he be down low, so alone.
At some point, Uncle Ben purchased glow in the dark star stickers and attached them all over Peter’s ceiling.
This way he could stare at the stars all night, without risking the cold outside.
It’s those stars that Peter’s looking at now.
He had redone them just a few weeks ago to form the constellations on his ceiling, which he read about in a book from the school library.
He’s glad he did it back then, because he’d be unable to now, with the broken arm and all.
It’s covered in a red cast and prevented from dangling around by a sling.
It doesn’t hurt much anymore, but he’s told he still can’t do much with it. That he needs to be careful and let it heal.
But if the pain is gone, doesn’t that mean it’s alright now?
He just wants to go back outside. Harley will only be in the city for a few more hours before his parents take him back home to Tennessee. He can’t spend more of their potential time together in bed because of a stupid injury he doesn’t even understand.
And so he stares up at the stars on the ceiling, and hopes they tell him how to get better.
It’s a mesmerising display above him, taking up all of his focus.
Or so he thought.
Peter’s attention is stolen away by a gust of wind coming through his window, carrying a small contraption inside.
It’s a hot air balloon, well, sort of. It doesn’t have a balloon but a small plastic bag, being held up by a small candle below it, emanating heat. Below the candle dangles something white and rolled up.
As the ‘hot air balloon’ floats closer Peter moves to get up and carefully takes the contraption in hand before it knocks against something.
It has a small letter underneath which he removes and unrolls to read in full.
“ Peter!
I’m sorry you broke your arm. ):
But it’s okay, superheroes get hurt sometimes too.
Get better soon, then we can go even higher next time.
Mom wrote our house phone number below.
Let’s call and make plans!
Take care, Harley ”
Without even dropping the letter he runs to the window and shoves his head out.
There, just a few feet below him stands Harley, waving, another of his huge grins plastered on his face.
“Make sure to call! See you!” Harley yells from down below. Peter quickly nods back, clutching the letter to his chest.
With one last smile aimed at each other, Harley makes his way to his parent’s rental car and gets inside, driving out of sight.
And Peter, standing so high up, knows one thing for certain.
Harley gets him.
***
“Mom got a new job, she’s a bit busier now but maybe we can save up enough money to go to New York again!”
“Cool! If I’m old enough I’ll get a job as well. That way I can come to you too.”
“Nah, all the superheroes are in big places like New York City!” Harley says through the phone to brush his worries away. “So when we become heroes too, we gotta be there. Maybe we’ll even meet Tony Stark!”
“Are you sure?”
“For sure. And I’m sure it’ll be cheaper now that my family would only need three flight tickets.” Harley says it so casually, but Peter knows it still hurts.
It turned out that Harley’s dad had met someone during their trip to New York.
After a few months of planning behind his family’s back, he packed his bags, ruffled his son’s hair and said he would be back soon before driving to the airport. Never to be seen again.
He must be somewhere in the city right now, with a new family.
Peter doesn’t really understand it, can’t fathom the thought of how you can just leave your family behind. Leave Harley behind.
What he does know for sure is that he hopes to never run into the man.
***
“ Hey Harley.
Mrs. Karen asked us to draw how we see ourselves in ten years from now. I drew us in Iron Man suits.
I asked if I could keep it to send to you. She didn’t let me at first but she made a scan of it to grade, so here’s the original!
I hope you like it.
I miss you
-Peter ”
***
“You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you.”
Harley called just now. It’s completely out of nowhere, they’re never allowed to call past their bedtime but apparently Harley had begged May and Ben so much that they had reluctantly allowed it.
“Try me.”
“Iron Man’s alive.”
Peter keeps the line silent for a moment, swallowing heavily. The news of the possible death of Tony Stark hit the world hard, but two boys especially.
Their bond, their dreams, their lives revolve around the man and his superhero persona. His presumed death shattered them for a while, but also brought them quite a bit closer at the same time.
Before, their conversations mostly were positive. Ramblings about science and what they wanted to create. Their goals of being a superhero and what they’d change in the world.
Of course they had the rough talks here and there, missing parents and harsh bullies were common elements in their lives, but they already knew about it, no need to bring it up–give it more power.
Tony Stark is the main topic between the boys, and thus also the most honest conversation. When tragedy struck, both children had teared up on the phone together.
Now Peter’s bottom lip is trembling again as he finally manages to whisper, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah man!” Comes the rushed reply. “He was just in my garage!”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah his suit crash landed nearby or something. I helped him fix it, I swear! I’ll send you as much information as I can remember for our own prototype.” Peter lets out a silent ‘wow’ but apparently Harley isn’t finished yet.
“He even gave me this light grenade or something to ward off the stupid boys at school! It’s insanely strong, I’m gonna try and implement it into my repulsor gloves.”
At this point they’re both practically vibrating with excitement, wide awake at the late hour to their guardians detriment.
They stay up talking as long as they can get away with, Peter reliving Harley’s last few hours as if he were right there himself, him, his best friend, and an alleged death superhero.
The perfect trio.
***
“ Merry Christmas, Peter!
You must get this late but I had to wait because I asked for new stickers and I got them!!! I used my favourites for this letter.
I also got new notebooks, so we can write down more of our great ideas! Let me know if you have anything.
You can decide what will be written on the first page.
Did Santa get you everything you asked for?
Better tell me all about it!
Harley (: ”
***
“How’s high school treating you, Pete??”
“Mh, it’s good. Great fun.” Peter replies, idly toying with the landline in his hand, beating around the bush for as long as possible.
“What is it? There better not be any new bullies over there. Or any of the old ones, please tell me Eugene or Kevin didn’t transfer to Midtown as well?” Leave it to Harley to immediately suss out that there’s something Peter’s hesitant to say.
For how quiet Peter usually is, Harley always seems to pick up if it’s because he’s simply got nothing to add, or if it’s because he doesn’t want to say something.
“Eugene is there, wants to be called Flash now for some reason. But yeah there is something else. Or someone else, this boy named Ned.”
“And… is he mean?” Harley continues, sensing that this is the reason behind Peter’s hesitance at the conversation.
“No, umh, quite the opposite. He’s really funny and kind. And quite smart too. We became, umh, friends?” Peter says, barely squeaking the words out.
“Really? That’s great!”
“It–It is?” Peter replies shocked.
“Yeah, of course. About time you made more friends.”
“I just don’t want you to feel left behind. You’re my best friend, you know.”
He hears Harley’s smile loud and clear through his next words.
“And you’re mine. forever.”
***
“ Hiya Pete.
Sorry I have been kind of silent, didn’t want to give anything away in case it didn’t work out.
Congrats on getting into NYU! I’m sure you could have gotten into MIT had you applied, but I understand wanting to stick around in your favourite city. (I hope I didn’t influence you with my opinion on NY all those years ago haha)
I have a small confession to make. I might have applied for a university transfer. My first year here in Tennessee just didn’t work out so well, the education level is so far below what I was looking for. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss some good company.
So once again congrats on getting into NYU. Next time I’ll congratulate you in person ;) ”
***
Peter’s hand is cramping as the words in front of him slowly start to blur together more and more.
It’s late, far past dinner time but he and Harley haven’t moved from their position for hours now.
As classes ended that day, both boys mutually decided to study together in one of the open lab rooms on campus.
Though their lessons differ from each other, with Harley being a year ahead, their schedules align almost seamlessly and it’s giving them plenty of time to spend together outside of classes, helping each other with projects since they’re in the same majors after all.
They’re practically working on the same future. Separate, but together.
When Harley had admitted to Peter a few months ago that he was going to transfer to NYU, Peter had hoped to see more of his best friend but could never have dreamed of the actual reality.
The duo could be spotted all over school. Walking into the building together, talking in the lunch line, and studying together at any given opportunity like today.
While Peter has gotten older, slowly maturing, he still isn’t as loud as when he was a child. Doesn’t open himself up enough to make new friends.
He does have Ned but he mostly spends his time in clubs talking about code and occasionally for his D&D hobby.
Peter doesn’t have the energy to surround himself with things like that.
Funnily enough, that doesn’t count for the enigma that is Harley Keener. Even now, years older from when they met, the southern boy is still as chipper as ever.
Their conversations might just be the only real talks Peter has with people. But he doesn’t mind. Because he and Harley share everything together. It’s enough.
Even though weirdly, even after talking an entire day away, it never feels like enough.
But they also enjoy quiet time together, a recent development to let Peter recharge after a long day of dealing with teachers and classmates and lessons.
Like now, he is working on some assigned reading, with a lengthy essay section, while his supposed partner in crime (or more accurately, anti-crime) has discarded his own homework in favor of working on his repulsor gloves.
Over the years the devices have gotten maybe a hundred upgrades, if not more, and as they have grown much smarter over time, Peter might be willing to bet that they’re getting close to the real deal.
To be able to use them and blast away any person meaning harm would be the absolute goal.
Being able to use them to fly, soar up high, well that’s the ultimate dream.
Peter’s world abruptly comes back into focus when Harley yells out some colourful curse words behind him.
He whips himself around to survey the scene, only for Harley to run out of his sight towards the lab sinks.
“Oh shit.” Now he’s swearing as well as he stumbles to the cabinets hiding the first aid kits.
Carefully approaching Harley, Peter puts his hand on his shoulder and slightly shifts the other’s body to look at the damage.
The tips of his fingers are alarmingly red and already starting to blister under the ongoing stream of water.
When the water has cooled everything down as much as possible, Peter takes his friend’s uninjured hand and leads him back to his chair, first aid kit at the ready.
The next few minutes are spent in silence as Peter soothes the tips of Harley’s fingers with burn cream before lightly wrapping them in gauze.
He’s still technically holding both Harley’s hands as he feels them being clenched in his grasp, anger and frustration emanating from the gesture and tone of his voice. “I don’t get it. Just can’t get them to work.”
“What went wrong?”
“I don’t even know. Little bugger heated up for sure though. But I can’t figure out what’s causing it.”
Peter releases the other boy’s injured hand, bringing it up to smooth out the frown lines between Harley’s eyebrows. “You will, I believe in you.” he mumbles as he slowly moves his hand away.
He’s suddenly very much aware of what he just did, and how close they are to each other, with Peter standing between Harley’s seated legs to aid him better.
Harley’s gaze drifts away, as if he also noticed their proximity but chose to ignore it. His eyes seem to settle on the dysfunctional repulsor gloves that he threw away in his haste to get to the sink.
“You know,” Harley starts, and Peter isn’t sure what he might say, but taking their current position into account, he suddenly realises that there is something he wants Harley to say.
“There’s a new exhibition on Tony, just a few blocks from here. Grand opening is this Saturday.”
The sudden vibe shift momentarily throws Peter for a loop. Yes, their lives, actions and conversations mostly are about the superhero, but this time it felt like maybe, just maybe, it could have been about just them.
It’s a thought he didn’t know he’s had before, not in this context, but he brushes it off and focuses on the topic at hand. Talking about Iron Man is something he does know how to do.
“Really? Think you’ll find more answers there?”
“I think we will, yeah. Will you go with me?”
This time it’s Harley who grabs Peter’s hands, holding them tight as they lock eyes. “As a date?” Harley practically whispers.
Technically, it’s not the most romantic of first dates imaginable. He knows others wouldn’t see it that way.
But this is Harley. And him. Together. It fits them perfectly.
For the first time, he doesn’t hesitate to say yes.
***
“It says here that since Mark III all suits have neglected the usage of actual Iron and instead been replaced with Titanium or Titanium Gold Alloy. That’s absolutely fascinating!” Harley crows, Jumping around the place.
The Exhibition hall is massive. A huge building completely transformed to show the life of one of the richest geniuses in the world. His works from when he was a child were either replicated or taken from storage to display. Memorabilia was everywhere, from the past to Tony’s most recent inventions.
It should have taken Peter’s breath away. In any other context, it absolutely would have.
But today, right now, he only has eyes for the boy he’s there with.
On a date .
He looks at Harley now, watching him read the information plaque on the mechanics from DUM-E, Mr.Stark’s robot that helped assemble many projects, including some of his suits.
Peter knows this, has researched it with Harley many times before. But Harley’s studying everything more closely now. Hoping to find more answers, uncover the secrets hidden in the billionaire's mind.
His blond hair is elevated to a golden colour, a halo of light resting on his head from the exhibition spotlights.
The Southern boy’s face is a mixture of pure awe and determined concentration.
Even with so many cool inventions on display, Peter’s attention is most drawn to Harley’s smile, as said boy turns to him, grabs his arm and drags him along to the next section, laughing as they go.
“Look at this!” Harley gasps, pointing to the artifact they’re standing right in front of. A few people give them weird looks but neither boys are bothered by it.
“This is the real deal. A repulsor glove… When we can make this, the rest of the suit will be a piece of cake.” Peter silently watches Harley the entire time, seeing his eyes light up.
“Some of the wires are even exposed! We can definitely figure out how they work.” As Harley keeps rambling on, Peter is taken aback by how enamoured he is by Harley himself. He knows they're on a date, he said yes to it, but he hadn’t thought through what that would entail.
Hadn’t expected the amount of feelings inside of him.
Faintly he realises, that while the impact of these feelings is new, they’re the most familiar feelings he has ever had. As if they have already made a home inside him over the years, deep inside his heart.
He looks at Harley again and sees what he has always seen, someone to spend the rest of his life with. But this time is different, because he feels something unlock, opening him up for the full implications of that statement.
A life with Harley. Not as friends. But as a couple.
His date turns to him then, eyes wide open and filled with sparkling wonder, mouth still smiling when he next speaks. “Isn’t it all just so fascinating?”
“Not really.” Peter hears himself say, his own brown eyes locked onto Harley’s bright blue ones.
“You are.”
***
“Come on Darling, don’t you trust me?”
“Trust you ?” Peter giggles, but turns around per Harley’s request anyway. Slowly he feels Harley draw near, hands being placed on his eyes and shrouding the world in darkness.
They walk slowly, and overtime also more trudging along as the path in front of them seems to become steeper.
“Ready?” Harley whispers close to his ears, a nervous shake hiding in his voice.
Peter just nods, letting Harley feel the movement before the hands are removed from his eyes bringing the world back into focus.
First he sees the sky. They’re standing on top of a grassy hill, Summer air all around them, closer than just a few minutes before.
Then he looks at Harley, rays of sunlight dancing around him as he seems to be nervous, wringing his hands and eyes casting down to the ground.
Before him, is a red-white checkered blanket. A basket with food piling out in every direction. There are two glasses next to a large bottle, hiding a bouquet of flowers.
A picnic, just for the two of them.
But the real centerpiece is the large card, filled with obnoxious stickers, sparkling glitter, and words painted on in red and gold.
And Peter, well he says yes, once again. They sit down, eat, laugh. Exist.
Together.
‘Will you be my
boyfriend?’
***
“Study date today? I know you have some projects to work on.”
“Mh, deal. But tomorrow, we’re going to the cinema.”
“Anything else your heart desires?”
“You.” Peter whispers, hugging his boyfriend close. “To go up into the sky with you someday.”
Harley chuckles against him, “That can be arranged darling.”
***
“Wow.” The words escape Peter’s lips without his knowing.
Harley’s arms are around him, holding him tight. It’s like a tether, an anchor to the floor beneath his feet.
But it’s not a real floor. Not like they’re usually on. They're standing on the flooring of a small basket, just a bit over a thousand feet high in the sky.
Above them roars a fire every now and again, keeping the hot air balloon afloat. Bringing them higher and higher every time.
The view is breathtaking. It’s something Peter has dreamed of for years.
And now he is here. So high up in the sky, surrounded by the universe. With the boy of his dreams.
They turn to each other, still holding each other tight. It’s not for fear, neither boy is scared of heights, the opposite even.
No they hold tight, because they simply don’t want to let go.
For a moment Peter lets his gaze wander around them. His eyesight stretching over miles of land. It’s so beautiful. But it doesn’t compare. Not to Harley.
He wonders, that even though they've only been in the same city for a few months now, dating for even less, he expected the shift from long distance friends to in person couple to be bigger.
But no, it isn’t that different. As if it was always meant to be. Inevitable. They’ve always been that close, just with a new level to it.
“Darling?” Harley whispers. It had become Peter’s favorite word as of late, but even now it can’t drag his focus away from the air around him.
“You look like you’re thinking about something. Care to share?” The hesitant question flies by him but Peter is listening to something else.
He’s so high up, surrounded by a mixture of cold and warm air, its flows dancing all around him.
He has always believed that the higher up he’d go, the more he’d come to know. That the stars would guide him and currents and gusts would answer all his questions in one breath.
And so Peter focuses, and he listens.
The wind whispers to him, and he finally knows it. The answer of the universe. His universe.
He opens his eyes, and really looks at his boyfriend.
His boyfriend looks back, smiling softly. Peter’s sure that smile is mirrored on his face as well.
It’s the boost he needs. Grabbing Harley’s shirt collar, he pulls him in, dragging them even closer together.
Softly, he invites him in for his first kiss.
They meet somewhere in the middle. The universe slowly fading around them, because all the answers are right in front of him.
***
“You want some dinner?”
The question comes from the doorway, the smell of roasted potatoes wafts through the room.
Normally he loves Harley’s food. The boy has quite a bit of experience in the kitchen, and according to Harley himself, he’s a master with potatoes.
But today it doesn’t help, doesn’t motivate him to sit up in his blanket cocoon.
“Baby, Please.”
“I’m not hungry, Harls. Maybe later.”
‘Later’ has been his go-to excuse the past week.
He can’t believe it’s only been a week.
Just seven days ago, his uncle was walking around. Just going shopping. Doing normal things.
When Peter received the news from Aunt May that Ben wouldn’t make it home, something inside him broke.
Since then he’s been inside his old room. Slowly drowning in memories and feelings.
“No darling, you can’t let this go on.” Harley walks inside his room anyways, Aunt May’s shadow staying behind, watching them, as Harley slowly sits down on his bed and serves him the plate of food.
“You need to eat something. We all want you to eat something. Please.”
Here’s the kicker. He wants to listen. Because he cares about Harley, and he knows Aunt May can still look after him, parent him and tell what to do or not.
But he wants to hear it from uncle Ben’s voice.
Harley studies him for a moment, feels the eyes in the back of his head with the way he’s lying beneath the sheets.
“How about some fresh air?” Fingers stroke a strand of probably greasy hair behind his ear. So soft, so caring. He can’t say no.
They make their way to the window, blanket dragging behind from his shoulders to the floor.
Harley opens the window, but instead of leaning into the night’s air for a moment, he jumps through, landing on the fire exit stairs outside.
A hand is being held out to him, carefully inviting him outside.
He accepts, stepping over the window frame and greeting the cold outside world.
They climb up, towards the roof where they drop the blanket and lay down on it, staring up at the world above them.
“Ben and I did this quite often, you know, staring into the night.” Peter softly admits after the silence has dragged on for a while. It’s hard to determine how long exactly. Time seems to stand still, whether it be the situation, location or the company. But he feels as though it has been enough time. The past week included.
“I don’t know if he actually liked the action, or just enjoyed the time together. We still did it a lot though, our special thing. Just staring into the universe. That might be boring, but I think that the boring stuff is what I remember the most.” Peter confesses as he grabs Harley’s hand to hold, anchoring himself to the solid roof beneath them.
“He once told me that he hoped I’d find someone someday to do this with, after he’d grow too old.” Their heads turn to each other. Harley’s expression is so open and kind. Like he’s fully focused on every word coming out of Peter’s mouth.
“I had a feeling this was something you’d be into. Always wanted to make a date out of it. But I think this is better. I’m sure Ben is watching right now, happy you’re okay.” Harley says. “Maybe even happy you’re not alone.”
The last words are spoken hesitantly, like he tried to hold them back. But Peter hears him loud and clear. He knows Ben approved of Harley. His uncle could always see what an amazing combination they were. He’s sure that if Uncle Ben could see him now, that he’d be happy for them. For him. The thought comforts Peter, like Ben’s right there with them.
He’s been told once, that souls rise up and join the darkened sky. That all the stars visible at night are people's loved ones, guiding them through the night.
He thinks about it for a moment, gazing at the constellations above him. It doesn’t sound so strange, not to him at least. He’s always believed the stars hold their secrets.
Maybe the story holds some merit. Maybe Uncle Ben is up there right now, part of a canvas of stars, watching down on him.
If he is, Peter knows which star it is. The one giving off the most light, smiling brightly.
***
“Hello May!”
“Harley how nice of you to call, is Peter with you?”
“Nope, he’s still at school for the next few hours.” The tinny reply came through the Parker landline, a nervous hint apparent through the shoddy connection.
“I’ve almost finished work, can I come by for a moment?”
“You’re always welcome here Harley.” May answered honestly. “What’s the occasion?”
“I’m coming to ask something. Be there soon.”
***
“--Peter Parker.” The boy in question runs on stage, shaking hands with the Dean as he’s being handed his diploma.
Quickly he turns to the audience, sending a wave into the crowd. He’s not big on public appearances, but he spots Aunt May and the Keeners somewhere on the left and imagines they’re the only ones seeing him up there.
The gesture is just for them, the only people he needs.
Peter rushes off stage the second the graduation ceremony finishes. Not a moment later he’s throwing himself in his aunt’s arms, tears dripping down both their faces.
“You did it, baby.” She kisses the top of his head softly. She hugs him impossibly tight for a moment before letting up, allowing him to step back and get congratulations from Macy and Abby Keener.
Before his brain can even compute that Harley’s next, he’s being pulled into a deep embrace. “Proud of ya, Pete.”
“Proud of us.” Peter whispers back in the hug before giving his boyfriend of almost three years a quick peck.
The four of them leave the festivities early and make their way to a small Italian restaurant, celebrating both Peter’s achievement and the Keener’s vacation in New York.
It’s a fun night filled by the delicious meal and heartwarming company.
Macy asks the obligatory questions about Peter’s future plans, after which both he and Harley explain their ideas about working at the same tech company. Peter more as a background analyst and designer, while Harley has been working in more public positions since his graduation last year.
“It’s just something that makes sense.” Peter admits. “Creating things together.”
The rest of the meal is finished in a friendly quiet, plates scraping being the most imminent sound all around him.
That is until Harley gasps, pointing outside.
Out of the window next to the table is the restaurant’s outdoor area. A few dining tables decorate most of the patio area, but a small portion of it contains a tiny playground to entertain kids.
Before he knows it, Peter’s dragged outside by a gleeful Harley who sends a quick look behind his shoulder at the adults at the table.
The air is bright and crisp around them and Peter breathes in deeply, letting the fresh air consume him for a moment.
He returns back to himself only to spot Harley by a set of swings, gesturing to one, “Want a push?”
Grinning, Peter takes a seat on the metal contraption and feels Harley’s hands connect with his back, softly pushing him in motion.
It’s incredibly fun, but also so freeing. Wind rushing past his face, altitude rising. It’s exactly Peter’s thing.
At some point, Peter realises he hasn’t heard anything from Harley in a while, neither felt his hands on his back to push him forward. He leans back on the swing and turns his head as much as possible to see what his boyfriend is up to.
There, just a few paces behind Peter stands Harley.
On one knee. With a velvet box in his hand.
He gasps, careful not to fall off the swing as he quickly steps off and rushes to Harley, who is looking up at him with a gaze so loving, it almost takes his breath away more than the other factors.
“You know, I always talk a lot. It seems I always know what to say to you, you make it impossible not to talk.” Harley starts, his voice shaking. “I must admit that for this occasion, I couldn’t quite find the words.”
Peter himself is completely silent, hands over his mouth as if he even needs to block out the sound of his breath.
“But I think you said it perfectly just a few minutes ago. It’s just something that makes sense. You and me. Creating things together.”
He raises the box up higher, one hand flipping the top open to reveal a silver ring. “So what do you say, do you want to create a life together? Will you marry me?”
And he knows that the only answer is yes, but this time he doesn’t even have to say it. Instead he rushes into his lover's arms, both of them already crying.
It takes a moment before he’s able to extract himself only for Harley to place a ring on his finger.
A flash goes off at the exact moment the band settles on his skin. He looks up and sees Macy, Abby and May looking at them through the window. Smiling and waving a camera around.
He embraces Harley again. His fiancé.
***
“I do.”
“And Peter, do you take Harley to be your lawfully wedded husband from this day forward - to have and to hold, in good times and bad, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health; will you love, honor, and cherish him for as long as you both shall live?”
“Yes, I do.”
***
The first time you walk through your own house is unforgettable.
You look around, picturing furniture and other decorations. Envisioning how the rest of your life will look in your new home.
Thinking of memories before they’ve even been created, like cooking dinner together at the new stove, or playing a board game at the table that will go in the left corner.
The first thing they do is hang up a clock, hearing the time they spend together tick by on the wall. Confirming that with every second, this is real. This is their time, and no one can take that away from them.
***
“This would go faster if you actually unpacked everything instead of just looking through the boxes.” Peter simply grins in response, continuing his search through piles of items. Small things that have been a part of Harley’s life as a child, and will now become part of their future together.
“This is cute. What’s its name?” He pulls a small teddy bear out of the box with things from Harley's old bedroom.
“Edison, if you must know.” Harley replies, playfully grabbing the Teddy back from Peter. “And it's a he, thank you very much.”
Peter quickly holds his hands up in a placating gesture, silently laughing to himself over his husband’s antics.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to insult anybody.” He says while continuing his search in this little treasure chest.
“Wait–” He starts, his eye having caught onto something familiar. From the box he retrieves a stack of papers and notebooks. Their notebooks. Filled with scientific research and dreams. Accompanied by the red notebook titled ‘My Adventure Book’ is a stack of letters. Peter recognizes his childhood handwriting right away. “Is this everything I’ve sent you as a kid?”
“Everything from your side, yeah. Felt important enough to keep.”
Silently, Peter can’t help but agree. He may not have seen these items in years but now that he has, he can’t believe how much they mean to him. To them. The start of their story.
“Wait here.” He commands and rushes out the room. His own belongings are still stored in the empty living room. It’s a bit of a search but before long he runs back to their bedroom-to-be and triumphantly shows Harley his loot.
“I have yours too.”
“That's amazing.” Harley says, leafing through his own letters. “One day we might be famous, genius inventors like Tony. And when that time comes, we can share these to the public for an autobiography or something. Maybe it can inspire others, the next generation. Show them that no dream is too big.”
You’re right, Peter mentally agrees. No dream is too big, not when you can do it together.
Over the next few days of unpacking and decorating their new apartment, (No I said to the left, Pete–work with me here), they round up every letter, gift and other memorabilia from when they were kids and buy a special chest for it all, placed in their new homey living room.
The contents may be out of sight, but its presence ensures it’ll never be out of their minds.
***
Over time, their life fell into a certain rhythm.
Waking up together. Enjoying breakfast and getting ready for their day in a peaceful fashion. Sharing thoughts or quiet time with a book late in the evening.
Whether it be a workday, creating the newest inventions of the year, or spending a lazy day together, their patterns rarely change.
At some point they’d recognized the need for something new. To do something more.
And so they started volunteering at a small organisation that helps families in need.
Once or twice a week when their schedule allowed it, they’d grab each other's hand and walk down the street to share their time with people that could use it.
Some days it was prepping meals, Harley’s skills in the kitchen coming in useful. Other times they’d help shift through donations, Peter’s eye for detail being a helping addition to the team.
Occasionally they’d stay behind in the main room of the building, entertaining children and keeping them away from the mountains of paperwork and piles of benefit leaflets that their parents are dealing with.
Today’s one of those days.
A Mexican family had come in, having heard the company’s options in ways to aid their difficult situation.
The parents must currently be reading through stacks of information booklets about places to stay, benefits to acquire, schools and forms and so much more.
It’s a good thing to do, a hard task but a worthy cause. Peter’s overjoyed by the options the company has pulled together over the years to keep struggling families together and have them live an obtainable life.
But he’s also grateful that the kids can be spared from it all, even if it’s just a little bit.
That’s what they currently have their hands full with, a four year old Mexican boy named Mateo and his baby sister Daniela.
Peter had placed Mateo on his lap the moment his parents left the room and grabbed a fun book that has integrated English and Spanish in its story, an easy way for kids to learn the new language.
Harley had taken on Daniela, providing the constant needs of a young child.
“You’re a natural with them.” Harley says, nodding to the kid on Peter’s lap.
“So are you” He gestures to the small child in Harley’s arms, softly being rocked to sleep.
As if a shock pulls them together, their eyes lock, but this time it’s more than that. They don’t even need to say it, their minds connecting, thinking and communicating the same thing.
Neither man says it out loud, but they both agree what the next step of their life will be.
***
“Where are you taking that?”
“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll figure it out.”
He knows his husband is looking at him right now with a fond but exasperated expression as Peter tries to carry a large box filled with books to the living room.
They’ve been emptying out the extra room in their apartment. It’s previously been used for anything and everything. An office for work studies, a guest room for friends and families.
Now it will be destined for a more permanent resident.
Peter peeks back into the room. Boxes clutter the space and random objects and leaflets are strewn about.
It can be classified as nothing more than a mess. But to them it’s so much more.
His heart flutters and his whole being feels warm and bright. Excited but content.
This will be the next part of his life. Their life.
After Peter lost his parents as a young child, he could never have predicted this. His world got so small, the only people left in it were himself and his aunt and uncle.
It slowly started to feel as if he was meant to be alone.
But then Harley came, and became a permanent fixture in his life.
And now they’re going from a family of two, to three.
Peter turns back to the main living room and watches his husband. Harley’s sitting at the dining table, papers covering the surface. He’s been researching all the adoption agencies in the city, getting them as ready and prepared as they could be for the apparently grueling process.
They’re aware it can be difficult, time consuming and expensive to achieve this. But as Peter studies his partner at the table, the box in his hands and the partially emptied room behind him, he knows.
He knows for sure that they can do this. Together.
***
They tried so hard. And for so long.
They’ve done classes and preparations. Visited many different organisations and had many more talks and consultations.
After preparing rooms and budgets and plans, and filling in stacks of paperworks while house visits went on in the background, nothing came to fruition.
Reason after reason rolled in for their rejection.
They’re too busy for a child (partly true), not enough income (absolutely untrue), them being too young (debatable). The last reason didn’t even need an explanation, because even though it’s been legal for gay couples to adopt since 2011 in New York, the expression in the social worker's eyes as she studied their intertwined hands said enough.
It’s all come to the point where they’ve tried almost everything they could think of. Every agency they could find and every single way to–still factually–fill in the application forms.
Their dream of expanding their family was left in the hands of other people, and they crushed it to pieces.
Peter can’t believe it.
This was the path they were meant to be on. Felt is so deeply in his soul, this yearning to raise and nurture. To do it with the love of his life. Combining and sharing their love for a child.
Now Peter looks at Harley and sees the tears and sorrow and loss swim in his eyes and knows his own face reflects the same.
He appears to be pulled forward, Peter falling into Harley’s embrace. He’s glad he still has him. His husband. His best friend.
He knows they’ll get through this loss. But for now it’s just too hard.
In each other’s arms, they break.
***
New York’s in chaos.
Tony Stark, for all his genius inventions, has failed at one.
An evil robot is terrorizing the city, leaving the superheroes sorely outnumbered against their technical-advanced opponent.
Peter watches this from his living room, oddly reminiscent of the first time he can remember seeing Iron Man on tv; Tony Stark talking about what it is to be a hero and making mistakes.
To be fair, Peter doesn’t blame Stark much. At least he was trying to do a good thing. Granted, it didn’t work out that way, but it’s more than he and Harley have been doing lately.
The both of them have been in quite a slump for a while now. They didn’t dare speak it, but they knew it very well.
Being rejected as foster parents had hit them hard, leaving a gaping hole into their lives. There was a moment where they tried to fill it up by any means necessary. They went on dates more than ever, or threw themselves headfirst into work to at least achieve something there.
At some point, their manic attempts lessened and they settled for living with the emptiness. The empty room, house, and feeling inside them.
For the past few months they’ve been going through the motions of daily life, but the enjoyment has lessened.
Sure, there are good and fun days. Picnics, birthdays and celebratory dinners at work still happen and they don’t want to miss out.
It's just not how it used to be.
When they aren’t at work, both men are commonly found at home. Sitting at the dinner table or staring at the television.
That’s what Peter had been doing today, just staring at whatever was on the screen when some old program got interrupted by a breaking news announcement.
Now he stares as the Avengers are captured on film in real time, battling an evil robot that has been dubbed as ‘Ultron’.
Just one opponent against a team of world renowned superheroes.
And they still seem to be outnumbered.
People panic, buildings crumble in the background. So much loss in such a short time.
A spark lights up as something collides in the midst of battle. On the small screen it’s hard to see what actually happened, but Peter feels those sparks shoot out the device and straight inside him. It burns hot and moves through his entire being, filling him up with something else. A spark that rushes into a wildfire of determination.
For the first time in weeks he stands up confidently, a sense of purpose running through him.
But first he needs to call his husband, because together, they have a lot of work to do.
***
The last period of time had been hard, gruelling even.
Stepping into the barren room was a task that still stole the air out of their lungs, leaving them terrifyingly empty. But they had done it.
Slowly, the elements of a children's room disappeared again, all getting donated to the shelter and other family homes.
It had taken a little over a year since the Ultron disaster swept through New York but their determination never wavered.
At first it was just plans scribbled on more notebook paper, or hushed conversations in their bedroom, secret from the rest of the world.
They were too busy, either with work, or with the ramped up volunteer efforts that came with the ruin and loss that Ultron had left behind.
But bit by bit, Peter braved the task of setting their project up. He redecorated the second bedroom into a small workshop. Purchased appliances like tools and a whiteboard for their calculations.
He had even been able to sneak some supplies home from work; boxes filled with spare shreds of miscellaneous metals and wires. Enough for attempt after attempt at the inner workings of an Iron Man suit.
Because that’s always been the goal. Their goal.
Stark’s failed AI attempt had brought many bad things with it, but it also carried a message.
There are never enough good people–enough heroes, in this world. No matter if the opposition is an evil robot, or the house that crumbles in its wake. Anyone can do something to help, fight the evils. Evils from books and movies, and those in real life. The frights that tear lives apart.
And Peter will do anything, with Harley by his side, to be a part of something good.
***
“You’re really nicking another bucket of scrap metals?” Peter almost drops the item in question when a voice suddenly speaks up behind him. He whips around, coming face to face with a trusted colleague whom he eyes warily.
“I can’t imagine creating anything with those little bits and pieces.” The woman continues, slowly walking closer. “What do you even need it all for?”
“Debra, I love you but can we apply some colleague confidentiality and say you know nothing and saw nothing.”
“Sure, if you can promise you’re not doing anything illegal with this… or evil.”
“I can assure you, I have the best intentions. Just living out a childhood dream.”
***
“Wait, so if we find just a few more grams of titanium alloy, solder it all together and then find a way to strengthen the circuit, we’re done?”
“Basically, yeah.” Harley approaches him with large strides, gripping their hands together Peter is helpless but to stare in Harley’s deep blue eyes. They brim with passion, determination and a hint of victory.
It’s so close now, they can almost feel the air around them already.
Both men cast one last glance at the near finished repulsor prototype and get back to work.
***
“Can you pass me the solder?”
“Coming right up!” Peter exclaims as he hands over the requested item to his husband.
They’re in the trenches of completion. The last few weeks have been spent on the last bits of formulas and blueprints for their re-invention. Tony Stark’s recipe for success is at their fingertips, surely soon they’ll be out there, flying around and protecting civilians like themselves.
Peter’s all done on his side for now. He specialises in all the calculations and hypotheses. Harley’s more of a trial and error kind of guy, and definitely better with mechanic equipment.
This gives him the opportunity to watch his partner for a moment. Just admire him as he’s working on the last bits of the repulsor glove.
It dawns on him then how far they’ve come already. Sure, it’s been a work in progress for years now, but it’s no easy task. They’re trying to perform at the same standard as one of the smartest people on the planet. Neither man blames themselves for the tempo they have worked at.
But now that it’s nearly finished, the final stretch at the tips of their fingers, Peter reflects on what they’ve all been through. How it all started with two young kids on a playground, a dream and a notebook filled with information too difficult for their young minds. How as the years passed and their brains grew, so did their understanding of the subject. Altering their education to line up with their childhood aspirations.
They have taken so many steps together, entwining their lives in every field, not just professional.
Peter looks at Harley now, and he sees everything. Their past, the future they worked for and their current present. He sees the love of his life, right beside him. It’s a sight he can’t imagine living without.
It slams into him, the reminder that with the slightest of difference, he would not have had this life. His happily ever after changed by the impact of a butterfly’s wings.
If the Keeners had decided on any other vacation destination all those years ago, this present could not have existed. Not to mention, Peter also needed to have gone to the park that exact day, Iron man mask securely placed on his head, for the two boys to meet.
What if they had never left any contact information; a fun summer friendship that’d have watered away over time, blurring along with other childhood memories.
Peter shakes the thoughts away from himself, focusing back on the sight of Harley, standing in front of him in real life. Holding up a finished repulsor glove, his smile beaming almost as bright as on their wedding day.
And Peter knows for sure, no matter what other universes exist where they’d never come together. This is the only correct timeline.
Harley and him. Together.
He can’t think of a better life than that.
***
It feels so long ago that they worked on the Iron Man suit. The calculation boards slowly collect dust, forgotten from mind and heart.
They had completed so much of it, all done and finished, only to find out that they'd never be able to keep it working and powered up. For Tony Stark's best invention wasn’t the Iron Man suit, but the arc reactor supplying energy to everything. Keeping him and the suit alive.
If Peter thought the suit was hard to recreate, the reactor itself was a whole new ballpark.
Over the years they slowly gave up, settling in for the simpler life. Focusing on work, volunteering, and each other.
And to them, it was enough.
Slowly their small home was transported into a time capsule.
Pictures decorated every surface, the walls, shelves and tables held golden frames showing memories from their lives.
Most were small and showed fun filled days that both men loved to think back of, or even experience again. Peter often spends his time off sitting in his favourite chair while looking at playful photographs taken at the zoo or in the park with a picnic.
On Harley’s side are his most appreciated memories, like graduation, his family and Peter’s in one eyeview.
Or the hot air balloon date. The first one had not been captured on film as far as he’s aware, but it obviously did not stay a one time experience. They were well known at the company at this point, satiating Peter’s love for the outdoors and heights.
He’d asked Harley once, why that one picture stood among the pictures of his family. His husband had looked at him, eyes so sincere and passionate that Peter couldn’t help but believe the answer he received.
“Because that day, when we went up into the sky for the first time together, I knew I was making the right choice. When you smiled at me, kissed me, it confirmed that I was going to spend the rest of my life with you.
And thus they treasure the little reminders around their home while continuing to make new ones for as long as they are able to.
They’re slowly getting older, time passing them by but they barely realise it anymore. They just recognise it by cozy days spent inside, or fun days out.
If the couple were to ask anyone else what the most important memory would be, that person would probably point to the main living room wall. And Peter, for his kind nature, would obviously agree and say that yes, that is the biggest day of his life.
The red painted wall is decorated with multiple delicate frames, the largest one of all in the middle, a collection of wedding pictures.
They looked absolutely stunning that day, all those years ago. The traditional wedding of anyone’s dreams. It’s only natural that someone would think that this day, so prominently displayed on their home, holds the heart of their time capsule.
But only the couple themselves know that the most important pieces lay in an old wooden chest, hidden in the corner of that same room. Harley sometimes goes back to it, riffling through it mostly when he knows that his husband won’t be home. Peter himself doesn’t look through it, barely remembers what is all in that chest but it doesn’t matter. He has no need for the memories, for Harley is with him, creating new ones with him everyday.
So while their wedding pictures steal all the thunder, they know that what’s in that chest is where they started, that’s the core to their story. The one they live together.
***
Tony Stark is gone.
That’s what they all say at least.
The elderly inventor had disappeared just last week, leaving many in doubt. Rumors run rampant, no sign of stopping. Slowly getting more outlandish and crazy.
A majority of people believe the man has simply passed away. It’s not an absurd thought, the genius has reached an age not many people do. But it also feels wrong, someone so smart and powerful, a man who remade his heart and powered it up by an arc reactor couldn’t just pass away, in silence nonetheless.
Others think he died in a battle that’s yet to be reported, only able to view Tony for the hero they see him as, Iron Man being more prominent than the man behind the mask.
Some believe he finally allowed himself to retire, hiding away. No more risking his life against aliens, no more camera’s and fame. Just Tony and his family, spending the last of their days in a house together, out of sight from the public.
No matter which theory is more common or mostly believed in, the matter stands. Tony Stark is gone and no one knows where he is and if he’ll ever be back. It’s safe to assume he won’t return, or at least that his counterpart won’t.
The question of ‘Who’s going to be the next Iron Man?’ has the world in its grip. News casts, forums and blogs are talking about it constantly, pointing at each and every other Avenger.
But Peter doesn’t see it as a question. but as a statement, pointing at his face. He leaves the television on as it plays another recap of the disappearance and marches into the extra room in his home. The currently unused workshop.
Inside, he mourns for Tony, a man so significant in his life is gone, Peter won’t blame the man for hiding away, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was just his time. No matter which it is, while he mourns and respects the life of his hero, he cannot leave the world behind.
This is his dream. Harley and him, protecting the world. Aiding Iron Man in any way he can. What better way is there to help than take over the burden?
He and Harley will be there to protect the world, he’s sure of it. Even if it’s only one good deed, it’d still have all been worth it. Their life’s work.
And so Peter removes all the dust from the calculations board, unearthing years of math to the surface. He feels as old as the dust particles he removes, grey and flaking. But determination sings and seeps out of him.
He grabs a pen and for one last time, he sets off to crack the code of the Iron Man armor, arc reactor included.
For him. For the world. For Harley.
***
“You coming to our room, darling?”
“Not yet. Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”
A pair of lips connect to his temple briefly before they’re removed by a chuckle. “You said the same yesterday.” Harley states, before looking over his husband’s secret notes. “Anything I can help with?”
Peter just shakes his head, smiling softly but tiredly.
“Alright love, I’ll be off to bed.”
Peter watches Harley leave for a moment, part of him longing to follow him into bed. Because even though he’s had a lifetime of cuddles already, he could never get enough of him.
They even spend more time there now. The couple can usually be found either in bed or the comfortable chairs in the living room. Age making their bodies ache and their minds tired. The world is overwhelming and living is a lot. The comfort of their home and each other is all they need lately. It’s a peaceful routine that is well deserved at this point of their lives.
But just once more, Peter wants to do something big. Something crazy. Something they’ve always dreamed of. And so he marches on, turning back to his calculations and focuses.
He’s doing this for Harley. The sooner he finishes, the sooner they can rest.
***
It’s the early trenches of the morning. The sun has risen already, brightening up the world outside. Not that Peter’s noticed though. He has spent another night locked up in their home workshop, parts of an Iron Man suit scattered all around him.
Behind him stands the calculations board in front of the window, blocking any possible sunlight from coming inside. That’s not a problem, to Peter, the most important thing right now is the math scribbled out on the white board. He’s done everything to protect it, even walking the long way around the lab table when he’s grabbing supplies to make sure he doesn’t bump into the important piece of furniture.
He’s been working steadfast, either testing out each and every combination he could think of, writing more math and setting up blueprints, or even re-reading Tony Stark’s published works.
He knew it’d be a difficult task. From previous experience and just plain old common sense, but it’s really beginning to drag him down. Mindlessly working through yet another energy routing panel.
While they had been able to perfect the suit itself as much as they possibly could, Harley and him had been unable to make a working prototype due to the blasted arc reactor. The suit and its repulsors would remain too underpowered to fly around with, or even make any significant change during battle.
Thus they had to focus themselves on the arc reactor. The most intricate energy source they’d ever laid their eyes on.
It’s no wonder they never managed to figure it out before. Because in all the years since Afghanistan, Tony Stark has not revealed even a whisper about the device that he had to implant into his chest.
The biggest secret to being a superhero, gate kept by their own hero.
They could only hope that they’re smart enough to crack it. That Peter can somehow manage to figure it out. As unlikely as it seemed to be.
It’s so stuck in his head, what an impossible task this is to complete and he’s so dragged down from many nights of staring at these same tools and formulas, that it doesn’t register when his latest attempt hums to life and continues to work strong.
It’s only when he shocks himself from wanting to uncouple the device again, like he’s done with all the other failed attempts, that he realises what he’s holding.
A working arc reactor. Brimming with life and energy.
He’s done it.
In his glee, he almost bursts out of the room to get Harley. Instinct wanting to share this with his lifelong partner.
but Harley deserves better than that. Deserves more than a rumpled sleep deprived husband and his manic exclamations.
So he carefully boxes up the device, including the correct papers and blueprints so they can start implementing it into a suit and hides it in a cabinet.
First he’ll have to take a nap and freshen up. A shower and a shave certainly wouldn’t go amiss, Peter thinks as he cleans his glasses with the edge of his shirt.
He stumbles into bed and promptly passes out, dreaming of him and Harley. Flying around in their, finally working, superhero suits.
***
Peter’s almost giddy as he leads Harley up the small hill, back to their favourite picnic spot. He’d contemplated where to take Harley for a few hours. Another hot air balloon ride was out, since Peter knew he enjoyed that more than his partner. The playground was a real contender; the place where all this started. He could already envision them sitting next to an old slide–not inside of it (he’s very much aware that they can’t climb inside anymore, much less run up the slide like he’d seen Harley do many, many years ago), as he shares the news of their latest breakthrough.
But this felt more fitting. The place where they said they’d be together. When Harley asked Peter to be his boyfriend using a picnic and a handwritten card.
A basket now swings by Peter’s side, heavy from more than just its literal weight. Laden with the arc reactor, lunch and a card holding the completed calculations. A ticket to being a superhero.
His pace is faster than he can remember being able to walk in years now, adrenaline surging through him.
This is it, this is everything they’ve worked on for so long. Nothing can break this moment.
That’s when he reaches the top of the hill, air swirling around him. He feels the wind urge him on, to turn around and face the love of his life at this moment.
He doesn’t think about the implications. Doesn’t register the exact urging nature the air is imposing on him.
So when he turns around he’s shocked to not be eye to eye. Instead Harley’s still halfway up the small hill. Struggling.
Peter sees Harley’s hand clutched against his chest and watches him stagger and start to fall sideways.
Without a moment’s hesitation he abandons the basket, ungraciously dropping it in the grass and runs to his husband to catch him in his fall.
He’s obviously too late, his old body not fast enough to compete with gravity, but he’s beside Harley now. Clutching his hand and whispering sweet nothings to him, hoping to reassure him in any way possible.
Harley stares back at him, eyes glassy and slightly far away.
“You’re gonna be okay. Just hold on.” Peter pleads, holding Harley’s attention as he looks around for anyone to help them.
“You think so?” Harley whispers back. hand still clutching his chest, right over his heart, filling Peter with more fear than he ever thought he could feel.
For the first time, he’s unsure as he says it; “Yes love, you’ll be just fine.”
***
The sterile environment of the hospital is one that will stick to Peter’s skin forever, tainting the touch of his loved one. His previously healthy loved one, who is now stuck in a prestinely made bed, machines occupying the space where a normal person would place a bedside table.
Now he can only watch as his selfmade hot air balloon floats over to Harley, who seems to barely recognise the device, even though it was Harley that made the first one all those years ago.
It’s a painful course of events; an expected one, but painful nonetheless.
You always know when you meet someone, date and marry them that you’ll be there together for all of it. The sickness and health. The joy and serenity, but also hurt and despair.
It’s the despair that Peter has been feeling since the official diagnosis.
Heart failure. Such daunting words. The funniest thing about it being, that the person who is not experiencing it will feel the impact the most. While Harley’s hooked up to wires and machines, kept comfortable with pain relievers and IV’s, Peter’s heart is breaking on the rickety old hospital chair.
Not just breaking, but shattering into a million pieces.
The doctors were clear with their prognosis. At the age they’re at, and how late everything was discovered, it’s not going to be a long treatment process to look forward to. In fact, there’s not much left to treat to begin with.
Peter secretly, deeply, disagrees. He wants to yell and shout and drag the doctors down by their shoulders until they hear and understand that Harley has the best, brightest and kindest heart ever. He should be stronger than any other person on this planet. There’s no way his heart, shining as bright as the biggest star in the universe, powered by all its energy, can’t keep going.
But Peter’s never been one to shout, and he doesn’t think it’ll help if he starts now. Not only that, but the thoughts that are whirling around his head have only made things worse.
Peter looks at his husband and prays to be forgiven.
His husband is dying of heart failure. Just when he has remade the one device that kept Tony Stark’s heart running.
If only he had been quicker, maybe he could have saved a life.
***
He’s sitting next to the hospital bed, Harley’s hand clasped into his own.
Peter’s throat is scratchy and sore from talking for hours.
It’s the only thing he feels like he can do now, just talk, now that Harley isn’t awake and healthy enough to do it himself.
And so he speaks, retelling the story of their lives to Harley from his point of view. Starting from when he was a little kid and the things that shaped him, to meeting his soulmate. Bonding, dating and marrying.
He tells his husband about all the things Harley’s said out loud over the course of their lives. Things Peter just nodded at, or answered with smiling eyes.
Harley was always the energetic one. The person who rambles and shares every thought on his mind.
Peter was always praised for how well he listened. How he cared for every word and sound the world and the people around him made.
He mostly listened to Harley, treasuring everything about him.
That’s why it comes to no surprise when he’s the first to hear it.
The piercing beep of a heart line monitor flatlining.
He doesn’t notice the hospital stuff bursting in, crowding around the bed.
No, he waits, hopes, prays and listens for one more heartbeat. One more sound from Harley’s direction.
But nothing comes. The unyielding pitch of the machenry the only sound he can register, which slowly fades into the background as he crumbles.
He crumbles, breaks and shatters. Down on the floor, still gripping his husband’s hand he cries out.
For the first time, Peter says no. He begs it. Again and again. Please, no.
***
The house is dark when he finally returns home.
Truthfully, he hasn’t been here for a while.
He’s stayed either with Harley or in a hotel during the hospitalisation, passing , and funeral. Either not wanting to leave the other’s side or not wanting to face the reality of an empty home.
And now he’s standing in his house. No, their house. Harley will always be a part of it. Has woven his soul into the brickwork of the building.
His radiant eyes stare at Peter from the pictures on the walls, following him around the building. It doesn’t feel weird, not yet at least. Still viewing the place as he always has, like Harley can come home any moment.
That vision is shattered as he turns on the lights in the living room, coming face to face with their empty chairs.
Or well, what he suspected would be two empty chairs. Because on Harley’s seat doesn’t lay a pillow, but a notebook.
Slowly he approaches the offending item, lowers himself into his own chair out of habit and carefully takes hold of the bound papers.
There’s more news clipping sticking out from every direction than he can remember, really showing how focused they had been on their work. Their goal. A dream that has never come to fruition.
With trembling fingers he traces the cover, the words ‘My Adventure Book’ clearly imprinted beneath his fingers. It forms a lump in his throat that he heavily swallows down as he opens the book.
He’s transported right back to that day on the playground, in the little shed atop of the slide. The first time he looked through Harley’s notebook, and saw his own future in someone else's handwriting.
All the articles are still there, portraying Tony Stark’s life and transition into Iron Man. The lists of scientific journals that they had yet to read, which Peter now knows by heart.
He looks further, paper fluttering from his fingertips as he scrolls past pages and pages of calculations. Their first theories and tests. The dedication and effort laid out in black and white.
He turns another page but instead of seeing more test results and incomprehensible math equations, he sees a photo. So raw and unedited, it would have never ended up framed on the walls.
It shows him and Harley on their first day together at NYU. Harley’s smiling brightly, slightly blurry from how much he was moving and vibrating around that day. Peter himself looks anxious, all pulled in on himself. But his eyes are fixed on Harley, a careful smile on his face.
It’s such a genuine picture. Better than any of their posed moments that people expect to see. This is real. This is them.
The next pages are much of the same. Pictures Peter can’t remember ever seeing before are laid out before him. His eyes water more and more as the times pass by him. A blurry shot during their first date. An overexposed portrayal of Peter looking around the empty and newly purchased home that he’s currently sitting in. Collages of hot air balloon rides, zoo visits and picnics. All their favourite dates, just for them, hidden in these pages.
His glasses are misting from tears as he turns the last page and is confronted by something he never thought he’d see.
An old black and white picture, taken from a shotty camera that a typical family would bring with them on vacation. In the image are two boys sitting on a bench, drinking from a juice box. One quite tall with unruly hair, the other short and wearing an Iron Man mask atop his head.
A picture from their childhood, obviously taken by Macy Keener.
Next to it is another picture from Harley’s mom, this time one he knew that was taken but hadn’t asked for since May had one for him as well.
A flashy shot taken the exact moment an engagement band had settled onto his ring finger.
Lastly the page holds a scene that could have been taken just weeks ago. Of an old Peter sitting next to an old, but alive Harley in their respective chairs in the living room. The curtains drawn, keeping the indoor light focused on their faces, and beaming off the wooden chest in the corner of the photo.
Harley’s handwriting glares at him from underneath the three pictures. The text confirms to Peter what he’s seeing. A life well lived. A dream come true.
“You were my Adventure. My journey up into the sky and across the universe.”
The words freeze him in place for a moment before he’s rushing over to the corner of the room. Dragging an old, dusty chest out of its hiding spot with all his might. He dumps it ungracefully next to his chair and flips it open, revealing all the hidden contents within.
Stacks and stacks of letters. Holiday postcards. Thank you cards from children and families at the volunteer shelter. Awards and nominations from work.
A first prototype repulsor glove, and an old plastic Iron Man mask with a faded sticker on it.
He sees it all. And for the first time, he sees the full story.
This was his life, their life. The life of their dreams.
They had done it.
***
The television is on in the background as Peter works around the house. Carefully dusting off each and every picture frame in the apartment.
Some have left the walls, feeling too painful to look at day to day. Others were changed, overly staged pictures being replaced with genuine photos or other memorabilia that Peter had unearthed from the wooden chest.
The sound of a ticking clock mixes in with the voices on the TV, keeping Peter’s senses busy as he completes the menial task.
When all’s said and done he pours himself a glass of water and allows himself to sink back into his trusted chair.
The seat next to him stays physically empty, but memory lingers. Of Harley watching shows and movies with him, loudly commentating on everything while Peter smiles and nods, perhaps giggles or grunts now and again.
Peter feels content, silently watching the moving pictures in the home he has created for himself.
Until the doorbell rings, loudly disturbing the domestic silence in the living room.
Grumbling, he slowly gets up, feeling his back protest the action as he makes his way over to the door. Next to it, against the wall, is a wooden cabinet that Peter had inherited from Ben.
He takes a brief moment to smile at the collection. A cabinet from his Uncle filled with briefcases from his father. On top stands a small box with jewelry from his mother and aunt. Next to that lies a notebook, clippings spilling out from every direction.
Peter allows himself a moment to grab one item, an old red and gold mask. Rubbing his finger over it, he feels the old ‘science bro’s’ sticker and recalls when it was placed there. Who placed it there.
He glances at the front door, envisioning all the times that Harley stood there. Ringing the doorbell since the energetic man usually left without his keys.
The doorbell rings against, shattering the illusion and making him put back the mask.
Peter walks to the front door, grumbling more and more as he does so. There’s no reason for anyone to come knocking, much less make that much noise. The last person in Peter’s life had passed away, was there no one who respected that?
He swings the door open, ready to berate whichever old colleague thought to do a check up this time when he’s halted by an unfamiliar face.
“Good afternoon, my name is Miles Morales and I am a Wilderness Explorer in Tribe 54, Sweat Lodge 12. Are you in need of any assistance today sir?”
Fin
pym_the_writer Sat 17 May 2025 12:06AM UTC
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