Ties
It was a peaceful and quiet Friday afternoon. Peter had finished his homework, which meant he had time to facetime Harley.
“So, when are you guys going back to Tony’s?” Harley asked over the call. “Feels like it’s been forever.”
Peter stretched out on his bed before responding in a lazy tone, “Tomorrow before lunch, unless dad gets work last minute. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, of course—” Harley suddenly turned his head as someone called out to him from a distance. He listened for a second before looking back at the screen. “Hang on a sec.”
He muted himself and apparently shouted a response back. There was a brief back-and-forth before he refocused on his phone.
“All good,” he announced with a small sigh.
“Everything okay?” Peter asked, genuinely worried. Things in his friend’s house weren’t the best.
“It’s nothing,” Harley shrugged, standing up and moving to what seemed to be his desk. “Hey, I gotta write an English essay and I was genuinely thinking about pancakes.”
Peter gave him a look. “Pancakes? Seriously, Harley?”
“Don’t act like it’s—”
Before Harley could finish, Peter was interrupted by America barging into his room without knocking, sticking her head in. “Get up. We gotta leave in ten.”
“What?! Why?” Peter questioned, even as he was already getting up.
“Dad has a shift tomorrow morning,” she explained briefly before disappearing down the hall, leaving the door wide open.
“I can’t find Mr. Sparkles!” Morgan suddenly yelled from somewhere in the house, as if she were making an official announcement. “We’re not leaving until I find him!”
“Morgan, stop yelling!” America shouted back. “Did you check under the couch?” she asked, also yelling.
Peter sighed and grabbed his backpack, stuffing his things inside while Harley, still on the call, laughed shamelessly at the chaos.
“So, I guess you’re leaving tonight,” Harley teased. “That sounds like a battlefield over there.”
Peter couldn’t help but smile a little, even if he was still annoyed by all the shouting, the sudden notice, and the fact that his sister had left the door open.
“Tell me about it,” he muttered, finishing packing. “You wanna stick around for the yelling, or should I hang up?”
Harley shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.”
“Peter!” his dad’s voice rang out from downstairs, loud enough that it had to be a shout. “Hurry up!”
“Why am I the only one getting rushed?!” Peter yelled back, sticking his head out the door. “Morgan won’t leave without her stup— her stuffed animal, but I’m the one you’re yelling at?!” He barely caught himself before swearing, mostly because America shot him a look so sharp it could kill. She was carrying both her own bags and Morgan’s.
“Give me that.” She took his backpack from him. “I don’t get how you always carry just one bag. One day, that’s gonna get you killed.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to haul my stuff back and forth like you do.”
America didn’t even acknowledge the comment, already heading downstairs in a rush.
“She’s got a point, though,” Harley joked. “I don’t get how you live out of one bag either.”
Peter sighed. “Because I have what I need at both houses, that’s all.”
“Uhh, okay, rich boy.” Harley smirked, making Peter’s cheeks heat up slightly as he followed his sister downstairs.
“Morgan, did you check the bathroom?” Stephen asked, already sounding exhausted by the whole ordeal.
“Yes, Dad! I checked there, my room, the couch, America’s room, yours, Peter’s—”
“When did you even do all that?” Peter interrupted, but he was ignored, except by Harley, who was still laughing at his friend’s confusion.
“Oh…”
“Oh, what? Move, Morgan,” America rushed her.
The little girl suddenly bolted toward the kitchen, disappearing from sight.
“Do you all have everything? Not forgetting anything?” Stephen asked, taking the bags from America’s arms. “Don’t go annoying Tony because you suddenly remember something later,” he warned, narrowing his eyes at them.
Peter bit his lip in thought and furrowed his brow in deep concentration. America made almost the exact same expression, completely unconsciously. Stephen nearly smiled at the resemblance but held it back.
“You got your glove, Pete?” Harley asked through the phone. “You always forget it.”
Stephen’s eyes narrowed further when he realized Peter was on a call with the boy.
Peter ignored his dad and answered his friend instead. “I’ve got it this time.”
America suddenly widened her eyes. “Shit, I almost forgot my practice shoes,” she mumbled before sprinting upstairs.
Stephen sighed. “No swearing! And don’t run up the stairs!” he yelled after her, but she didn’t even look back, too focused on her mission.
Morgan reappeared at that moment, clutching her beloved Mr. Sparkles; a bear that was supposed to be white but was now more of a dirt light brown, wearing a farmer outfit covered in glitter that she had glued on years ago with Christine’s help. Very cute. Very well-loved. Very dirty.
“Found him!” she declared proudly, beaming at her brother and dad, looking much calmer now.
“Glad you did, Morg,” Stephen said, ruffling her hair gently. The little girl kept smiling.
Peter gave his sister a small smile before turning his attention back to the call. “Harl, talk later?” he asked, sounding slightly regretful.
Harley smirked. “Sure, Pet. I know you don’t wanna get carsick on the way.” His voice was half teasing, half fond.
Peter immediately felt embarrassed, especially when Morgan heard and started giggling at him, and when his dad squinted at him like he was suspicious.
“Okay, that’s enough for now, bye,” Peter cut in, hanging up before Harley could say anything else.
Right then, America returned, practice shoes in hand, along with a couple of other last-minute things. That was the final sign that they were officially ready to go.
~*~
Tony was standing at the entrance of his house —or mansion, as Harley always made sure to clarify.
Morgan was the first to jump out of the car the second she got her father’s approval, launching herself into Tony’s arms.
“Babbo! I missed you so much!” the little girl exclaimed with a theatrical flair that seemed inherited.
Tony chuckled softly as he lifted his daughter, who seemed to grow bigger every time he saw her. He made eye contact with his ex-husband as he asked, “Why, mia piccola? Did you get bored with dad?”
Stephen shot him a murderous look as he walked behind their other two children, carrying both the youngest’s bag and backpack himself.
Morgan lifted her head from where she had buried it in her babbo’s neck and shook it vigorously.
“That’s not it. I had lots of fun with dad, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you,” she replied innocently, though she didn’t miss the looks the two men exchanged. “Don’t be mad at babbo, dad.”
Her concern seemed to snap Tony and Stephen out of whatever trance they’d fallen into, while America rolled her eyes at the situation. Tony set the little girl down, and she immediately ran inside.
“Careful, Morg!” Stark called after her, barely turning his head before refocusing on his other two kids. “And what about you, miei tesori?”
America walked up and gave Tony a quick but tight hug. “Hey, Babbo. I’ll tell you everything at dinner.”Then, she turned to Stephen. “See you, dad. Hope you have a good shift.”
The teenager rushed inside, and both fathers swore they heard her yelling at Morgan to go back and say goodbye to their dad.
Peter then hugged Tony. “Hey, Babbo! I’m working on a super cool experiment for my biology class, and the other day my coach said I’ve improved a lot, maybe because I’ve been practicing a bunch with dad and you! Oh, and Harley brought his little sister over the other day, and we played a ton!” The boy spoke fast, his excitement clear, and both parents listened with just as much love as attention. “I’ll tell you more later. Bye, dad, love you!” Peter said, waving at Stephen before heading inside, leaving the two adults alone.
Tony blinked at him. “Something on your mind, Strange?” he asked with a smug smile.
Stephen cleared his throat as if shaking off whatever spell his ex-husband’s gaze had put him under. “That kid, Harley. I have nothing against him, but keep an eye on him, alright?”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? We’ve known him for, what, three years now?” he asked, shifting his weight to the other leg while keeping his hands in his pockets.
Stephen grimaced slightly. “I know, but something… something feels different now. Peter doesn’t act the same when it comes to that kid.” His brows furrowed.
Tony scratched his nose, squinting at Stephen as he crossed his arms. “Different how?”
It was clear the other man was struggling to find the right words. “Peter laughs at his jokes more than usual, and sometimes… sometimes he gets kind of shy when Harley teases him. It’s like… I don’t know. Just keep an eye on it.”
Tony scoffed when Stephen finally finished his explanation. “It’s like what? Like Peter likes Harley as more than just a friend? Is that what you’re implying?” he asked, laced with irony.
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Yes, Stark, that’s exactly what I’m implying, and I don’t like it,” he said, crossing his arms defensively.
Tony shook his head as if he found the whole thing purely amusing, maybe he did. “I see what you’re saying, Strange, but you know Harley isn’t a bad kid, and you can’t protect Peter forever. He’s not a little boy anymore.” His stance and expression were relaxed, calm.
Stephen let out a heavy sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then gave in. He looked at Tony again as he was about to reply to him, but the three kids came running towards them again.
“Love you, dad” they said almost in unison, all three squishing Stephen in a quick hug before getting into Tony’s house again. The two of them were smiling amused at their kids attitude, and if they looked at each other with tender, they would absolutely deny it. It was just for the kids.
Stephen then let out a sigh, “forget about it,” he dismissed the past topic with a lingering weight in his voice, turning around and walking back toward his SUV.
“Bye, Strange. I’ll keep you updated about the kids,” Tony called out, raising his voice just enough for the other man to hear him from a few meters away.
Stephen turned slightly mid-step, raising a hand in farewell.
Both of them knew there was no real reason to stay in contact beyond their biweekly check-ins and family events, but they also knew they’d keep talking anyway. It was something neither man wanted to address, because neither of them had any intention, or desire, to change it. Neither of them wanted to actually cut ties, even after four years divorced.