Chapter 1
It has been two years. Two whole years since everything went to shit. The streets are dark as Spider-man swings across the city, silently landing on the highest rooftop in view. He sits on the ledge, letting his legs dangle over the edge as he watches the world.
Two years.
Under the mask, tears fall down pale, sunken cheeks. The hero chokes on his sobs and allows himself to scream. Nobody will hear him. He knows this. He knows this because this is his routine. Every day he pushes through just to find a rooftop at the end of it and let everything out. What else is he meant to do?
Two years ago, the world forgot him.
He remembers how he thought life was messy then. He was always so focused on the fact that everything was weird after coming back from the blip; Mr Stark was in a coma, Morgan was clinging to him as if she knew him, he had to think about college. And then, Mysterio happened. He never even got to say goodbye to so many people. And May, oh god May.
He wretches, having cried so hard he can’t breathe and his throat is scratching. He pulls up the mask to his nose in case he’s sick, it wouldn’t be the first time, and he continues to cry into the city air. He’d already missed so much. He kept track of everyone, it was one of the only things that kept him going, knowing that he had kept them safe. MJ and Ned had started college, he’d watched as they’d seen each other off, tears in his eyes and heart aching. The Avengers had moved into the Compound, vowing to stick close together from now on. Mr Stark had woken up. Fuck. He remembers hearing that on the news as he tried to count the change he had to buy a sandwich.
His stomach growls at the memory of that sandwich. It had been a while since he had eaten. When did he last eat? Calming down, he lay down against the concrete roof. He’d drank some water earlier, he knew that. Damn, it can’t have been that long that he doesn’t remember. That’s it, someone had given him fries. That was yesterday. Fuck he needed to eat. Sometimes he really hated his powers, his metabolism made him so hungry.
Sighing, he moves to find his bag which he hides up here while he patrols. He unzips the tattered bag and fishes for his bag of change. Being homeless truly sucked. It had taken about a month before he’d ran out of the money he’d managed to grab before he had to disappear, he didn’t want people to question who he was. He wouldn’t know how to answer. The coins tinker against the floor as he pours them out, keeping a hold of the dollar bills to count them. One, two- he has five dollars. Fantastic. Today is going to be a shopping in the suit day then.
Peter hated being given things for free. He despises being seen as a charity case, probably something that May had drilled into him over the years, but nowadays he had to do anything he could to survive. Shopping in the suit was a tactic he had developed about a year ago, when he realized people liked to thank their friendly neighbourhood hero occasionally. It wasn’t always a given, but it was more likely to happen in the suit than out of it, and when he only had five dollars, he didn’t have much choice but to try.
He places his bag back in its hiding place, pocketing the change. With one last breath to pull himself together, he pulls his mask down and jumps off the roof.
The closest 24-hour store is a five-minute swing away. It is a run-down building off to the side of a road to out of state, usually frequented by truckers. Any time that Peter has gone in there, it has been the same bald guy behind the counter. He drops in front of the door, laughing to himself when he sees the worker’s head turn to him in alarm before rolling his eyes and looking back at his phone. He enters the store, heading straight for the sandwiches. Three dollars, that was doable. He wishes he could always have at least five dollars on him in case of emergency, but the past few weeks have made that particularly difficult. A storm is settling in, and the cold has left him particularly in need of warm food, so he’s been having to spend more than he’d like on the colder nights. He settles on a chicken mayo sandwich and decides to see if he can grab a drink too, preferably warm.
The hot drinks machine is thankfully working, and a coffee is only two dollars. Perfect. He takes his meal to the counter and greets the man.
“Working again I see.” The man scans his sandwich and punches in the coffee, grunting in response.
“Pays the bills. That’ll be five dollars Spider-man.” He hands over the cash, only slightly cringing at the thought that he is now penniless. Oh well, he’ll have to see what he can get tomorrow. He thanks the cashier and leaves with his sandwich and coffee in hand.
Carefully, he climbs to the roof of the store- out of view of the worker of course- and sits on the ledge. He idly sips the hot coffee, delighting in the warmth it spreads through his sore limbs. It was going to be a bad night, he could tell. The clouds were thick and dark, and quickly approaching, it would probably rain. He’ll have to try and find a sheltered area for the night. Placing down the coffee, rips open the sandwich. It’s dry and has a weird texture but Peter couldn’t care less, he’s famished. He quickly scoffs down half of the sandwich, debating saving half for the morning, just in case he doesn’t find any food for the rest of tomorrow. He places it to the side for now, picking the coffee back up instead, savouring it.
He watches a bike approaching from out of state as he warms his hands on the cup. The biker must spot him because he does a comical double take as he pulls into the store parking lot. Peter laughs to himself and finishes off his coffee. He frowns at the cup, mad at it for being empty.
“Are you alright?” A voice calls from the ground. He looks down to see the biker who’s taken off his helmet and is looking at him with a concerned frown. He has blonde hair and looks slightly tanned; his voice is accented. Definitely not local then.
"Yeah, I’m good.” He answers, not used to the socialising anymore and uncomfortable conversing with anyone, let alone a random attractive biker. God, what is he thinking, his heart belongs to MJ.
“You sure? The coffee hasn’t offended you?” The blonde man smirks. Peter pouts, not impressed with having been called out on death glaring his empty cup. He demonstrates the issue, holding out the cup and tilting it as if to pour. The man makes an understanding sound at him. He doesn’t say anything else; he carries on into the store. Peter sighs and looks at his sandwich. I’ll keep the second half.
He makes to leave and head back to grab his bag and find shelter when the door to the store opens again and the blonde man exits. He looks at him confused as he holds up a cup of coffee. He tilts his head at him and drops down off the roof to stand in front of him.
“Here. So you don’t keep plotting the murder of your cup.” He offers him the fresh drink and Peter blinks.
“Um, thanks? But I don’t have any money right now-”
“Did I ask for money?” Peter stares at the stubborn man and sighs, taking the drink from his hands.
“Thank you, you don’t know just how bad I need this.” He pulls his mask back up to his nose and takes a tentative sip of the drink. The blonde man watches him, swigging his own drink.
“Rough patrol?” Peter can’t help but laugh.
“More like rough life.” He trails off, not wanting to elaborate even though the other guy looks at him like he craves explanation. “Where are you from? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”
The blonde smiles and seems to ooze charm as he responds in a thicker southern accent than previous. “Rose Hill, Tennessee, born and raised.” Peter whistles lowly.
“Damn, that’s one hell of a journey.” He should know, it’s where Mr Stark had ended up during the Mandarin incident and the man had complained randomly about how far it was. Peter never got a full explanation why his mentor cared. “Why are you in New York?”
“I’m moving here, been offered a job.” Peter nods along, making polite conversation as he drinks the coffee.
“Nice, what is it that you do?”
“It’s hard to explain unless you kind of know what I’m on about. I mostly do R&D work, engineering and mechanics is my thing.” Peter practically chokes on the coffee. Fuck, he’s hot and smart. Wait no, bad Spider-man, remember your girlfriend. Although, he probably shouldn’t call her that anymore. It’s been two years after all.
“I’m more of a biochemistry person myself.” The biker’s face twists into a surprised grin.
“Oh shit, who knew Spider-man was a science nerd.” Peter rolls his eyes beneath the mask; it’s been a long time since he was called a nerd.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll have you know I designed my own web formula. And I'm pretty skilled in R&D too, could probably give you a run for your money.” The man hums and then snorts. Peter smiles at the memories running around his mind of being in Mr Stark’s lab.
“Yeah, I’d like to see you try. But that’s pretty cool that you designed your own webs, I did hope they weren’t actually coming from your body.” Peter nods and sips at the coffee some more.
“What’s with the half a sandwich?” He looks down at the sandwich in his hand and back up at the man who’s looking at him with a strong curiosity in his eyes. It’s strange how comfortable Peter feels with the stranger, he wonders if he could let him into his life, it wouldn’t do any harm anyway, nobody would really believe him if he tried to spread any rumours, it’s just one guy.
“I’m saving it.” The guy frowns and looks him up and down with an analytic gaze. The blonde glances up at the sky and back at him.
“It’s going to rain. Would you- I mean, I'd like to get to know you more. You seem cool. What I’m saying is... wouldyouliketocometomyplace?” Huh, wasn’t expecting that.
“Um, I’m not homophobic or anything, I mean that would be quite hypocritical of me considering I’m fairly sure I’m bisexual, but Spider-man can’t exactly just go home with any random person who wants to do god knows what, no offense.” He winces at his harsh delivery and wishes he could take it back when the blonde’s eyes become comically large.
“What?! No, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just- it looks like it’s going to rain, and I’m sure swinging back to your place in a storm wouldn’t be all that easy. Didn’t mean to seem like I was trying to, well, I was just trying to be considerate.” The web-hero grimaces, realizing he definitely just offended this kind man. Not very heroic of him.
“Damn, I’m so sorry, I get paranoid... Uh, sure. You seem trustworthy enough. I’ve got to go grab my bag from where I left it though or it’ll get soaked.” The man looks back up to the sky and his eyebrows crease in thought. Peter holds the coffee cup up against his cheek, trying to warm his skin.
“Tell you what. If you go pick up your bag, I’ll wait here, and you can hop on the bike. If you want, you can stay the night, instead of waiting for the rain to ease off.” Peter’s mouth falls open in shock. He debates taking the stranger up on their offer. But what if they unmasked him while he slept? Sold him out to the Daily Bugle? He looks up at the storm clouds which are getting closer by the minute. The stranger bites at his lip anxiously, waiting for an answer.
“Aren’t you just coming into town? How do you have a place?” The blonde smiles kindly.
“As you’ll quickly realize, I have connections with a lot of money. My boss set me up with an apartment, I’ve not even seen it yet.” Impressive, he whistles quietly. Fine, not like he has a place to walk back to anyway.
“Alright, guess I’d rather not catch hypothermia. I’ll be ten minutes, ish.” The blonde man nods and Peter swings off to grab his bag as quickly as he can. There’s something about the stranger that makes him feel at peace, if he was bad news his Spider Sense would surely be screaming.
He makes it back to the stranger as quick as he can, slightly surprised when he is still there. The man must be some kind of angel, damn.
“Um, people will probably look at you funny if you rock up to the city with Spider-man on your bike. Maybe it would be better if I followed from afar-” The blonde’s laughter sounds like music in the quiet night and Peter would dance in it forever if he could.
“If you don’t want to take the mask off, you could always put civilian clothes on with it. People won’t notice the mask with how fast we’ll be going.” Peter guesses that makes sense. He backs into the alley beside the store, knowing there’s no cameras there. The blonde man follows cautiously, clearly still aware that Spider-man is a vigilante, not an Avenger or anything. He removes the suit, stepping out of it and hissing at the cold air on his skin. He hears the blonde gasp at his frail looking frame, ribs jutting out and skin pale. That response is justified, he knows he probably looks awful. He pulls the clothes he has out of his bag, dirty jumper and now very baggy jeans, along with a pair of worn sneakers. He tugs them on and throws his suit in the bag before turning back to the man.
“Okay stranger, lead the way.” The stranger purses his lips and holds out his hand.
“Harley. Harley Keener.” Peter smiles and shakes his hand.
“Nice to meet you.” Harley chuckles and directs him to the bike, climbing on first so that Peter can climb on behind him. They speed off into the quiet streets of New York, the only noise coming from the engine or the occasional drunk returning home from a night out. Peter basks in the feeling of the wind against his hands and bare ankles, different to how it feels when he swings around but still pleasant.
Eventually, they come up to a high-rise building and Harley slowly pulls into the building’s car park. Peter follows him as he tries to find his way up the building to his apartment. When they finally locate the door, the man pauses.
“Well, I hope it isn’t too flashy, old man knows I’ll hit him if he tries to boast too much.” Peter snorts as Harley unlocks the door. They walk into the apartment and are greeted by a modern, open space lounge and kitchen. Peter gasps at the wide glass windows overlooking the city.
“Wow. This place is stunning.” The blonde is similarly in awe, stroking his hand along the marble counters in the kitchen. He lets out a shaky breath.
“He said the place is fully stocked, you want some comfier clothes? Something to eat?” Peter gapes at the kind offer, coming to join the man in the kitchen. Harley opens the fridge, and he looks inside it curiously.
“How does bacon and eggs sound?” Peter nods, speechless at the man’s hospitality. The blonde smiles and pulls out the food.
“While I cook, why don’t you go on a hunt for some clothes? Feel free to make yourself at home honestly, I don’t mind.” The masked man nods and begins to wander through the apartment. He comes across a bathroom, a guest room, the master room, and what appears to be an at home lab. Damn, this place has Tony Stark written all over it. Perhaps he should’ve checked who Harley’s boss is, he isn’t mentally prepared to face Mr Stark. Don’t be stupid, it’s not like he’ll come and check on a random employee, you have nothing to worry about.
In the guestroom, he finds a pair of grey sweatpants and a comfortable blue hoodie. He decides it would probably make sense to shower before he puts on fresh clothes, especially since this is a rare opportunity. He usually bathes at communal swimming pools and stuff.
The ensuite bathroom is black and white and marbled, everything sleek and straight out of a home décor magazine. The shower is stocked with different body washes and hair products, of which Peter selects the tea tree scents because it will feel the most refreshing. He showers quickly, not wanting to take too long but still enjoying the feeling of the pressure the shower offers. He gets out just as the steam is starting to make him feel dizzy and changes into the comfy clothes. He looks at his mask lay on the sink. Is there a point in putting it on? It will immediately make him feel dirty again.
As much as he’d like to bite the bullet and unveil his face to someone for the first time since he was forgotten, he doesn’t quite trust Harley that much yet, so he slips on the mask. He grimaces at the grime touching his previously clean skin and leaves the mask resting on his nose. As he walks into the communal area, he is greeted by the domestic scene of the blonde man plating up the food, the enticing smell in the air making Peter’s stomach growl.
“You know there’s a lab here.” He calls out as he approaches the kitchen island. Harley doesn’t even jump at his appearance just carries on plating up the food as he responds.
“Yeah? My boss did mention I should have one. Did you shower? I can smell tea tree.” He laughs as he says it and Peter blushes.
“Uh yeah, is that alright?” Harley turns and places the food in front of him, reassuring him that it is alright until he cuts himself off as he looks up and sees the adorable sight of the shorter man buried in the clothes he chose.
“-damn darlin’, could use a warning before I'm greeted by a puppy incarnate.” Peter whines as Harley stares at him unashamedly, taking in his face.
“I’m not a puppy! I just thought that, you know, I’d get comfy.” Peter rambles. The blonde nods along with his explanation and gestures for him to eat, tucking into his own plate opposite him. They’re silent for a moment, both eating happily. Harley clears his throat.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your deal?” Peter remains silent, pushing the eggs about on his plate.
“I assume you mean in regard to my weight and stuff?” Harley nods. He pushes away his plate, not very hungry anymore, though he’d managed to eat most of the thoughtful meal. “I’m just quite busy I guess; I forget to eat quite a lot. It looks worse because I obviously get a lot of exercise.”
Harley seems to buy the cover up, but he still looks concerned. Perhaps he thinks he’s trying to cover-up an eating disorder or something. Peter sees the way the blonde’s fingers twitch, urging to reach out for his hand in an attempt to comfort. It makes his insides warm. He misses that, physical contact, even that small.
“Hey, could we check out your lab? It’s been a while since I’ve been able to get into one that I haven’t snuck into to make my webs.” He asks, changing the subject. He doesn’t do vulnerability anymore, it’s dangerous. Harley's gentle laughter floats between them.
“Of course. Come on, Spidey.” The blonde follows his directions to the lab, seeing as he’s never even been to it himself before.
They stay quiet as they enter the lab, watching as the lights turn on and the room comes to life. Tools line the room, many expensive gadgets placed about the open space. A car engine is sitting in the corner and it’s clear that the lab is high tech from the holograms that Peter can see can be displayed from different surfaces. It’s got to be expensive. Harley gives a low impressed whistle, immediately flying over to the car engine to stroke it, whereas Peter moves himself to a hologram table, curious what may be stored. He works them effortlessly, pulling up different schematics to what must be several of the blonde’s projects. Oh, he’s smart smart.
“How much of this do you understand then, Mr Biochemistry?” The other man asks him, smirking. Peter raises his eyebrows at him, amused with his cockiness. He looks back at the holograms.
“You might want to change the size of this battery; this size will fry the engine.” He says, pointing at the mistake. Harley rushes over to look at where he is pointing and huffs.
“Alright, nerd.” Peter snorts and continues to look about the room.
“You can use this place if you want. You’re welcome to come over whenever.” The hero gives his host a thankful smile and nods, letting his eyes roam through a cabinet of chemicals. This would be a perfect opportunity to replenish his web fluid.
The pair spend a little longer looking through what the lab has to offer, Harley getting some feedback on a few of his projects, saying ‘it’s always good to get a second opinion’. They are left feeling a lot more comfortable with each other’s knowledge, understanding what the other can make sense of if they are to go off on a rant in future. Peter can feel a warmth within him growing at the idea of having a friend, or at least the closest he has had to one in a long time. After a while, they head back to the living area.
“So, tell me more about yourself, Mr Hero.” Harley says, switching on some music from his Spotify account. Peter tilts his head.
“Like what, Mr Biker?” He asks in response. He likes the song that’s playing, it has a good beat. He nods his head along to the music and taps his fingers against his thigh. Harley barks out a short laugh at the nickname.
“I don’t know, just general things. What’s your favourite colour?” Peter can’t help the laughter that spills from his throat at the stupid question. The blonde raises his hands at his sides as if to say, ‘don’t laugh, I couldn’t think of anything else’.
“Um, blue? While we’re at it, you want to know my other basics?” Harley rolls his eyes as the superhero snickers. “How about 20 questions? I suck at just talking about myself. But we don’t have to answer if we don’t want to, okay?” The blonde man nods, leaning back into the sofa and contemplating his first question.
“Okay, first question; what’s your favourite food?” Peter snorts.
“Wow, okay. You really like the basic questions.” He begins, thinking for a moment. It’s been a while since he’s ate anything good, what is his favourite food? “Um, probably churros. But like, actual meal? I’m not sure, I liked the sandwiches at Delmar’s best in high school, but I haven’t been there in like two years.”
“Well, I don’t know what Delmar’s is, we’ll have to go there some time. Your turn to ask.” They’re both settled into the sofa at this point. Peter definitely noted Harley’s use of ‘we’ but he can’t help but marvel at the soft texture of the couch, sure that it would be very comfy to sleep on, but no, he had an actual bed.
“If we’re going with simple questions, what’s your favourite song?” The blonde’s face lights up and he grabs his phone.
“This is very random, don’t question it.” And Grease starts to play- as in the literal opening song to the musical Grease- and Peter short circuits. His mouth flaps open and close as he tries to register the fact that this guy, who was originally some cool biker guy, listens to musicals.
“Grease? Really?” He says in shock, Harley laughs and starts to sing along. Peter blinks cluelessly before he eventually huffs out a stunned laugh and joins in a little. “Wouldn’t have taken you as a musical theatre kind of person.”
“Yeah, I took drama in high school. Pretty random but I just thought it was fun.” Peter shakes his head in amusement. They continue that way for hours, trading questions until they are bouncing off each other as if old friends.
Peter yawns.
“God, it’s late. Sorry for keeping you up, I’m sure you need to get to sleep, what with all that crime fighting you do. I always lose track of the time, insomniac issues.” Peter waves of his concern.
“Don’t worry about it, I don’t sleep much either honestly.” He neglects to mention that’s more to do with the biting New York weather and fear of being attacked than insomnia. “I’m always yawning, always tired. Doesn’t mean I'm about to fall asleep. If you’re gonna be up longer, I’ll stay up with you.”
The taller man smiles and stands from his place on the sofa, reaching his arms above his head to stretch. Peter has to try especially hard not to focus on the way the man’s shirt lifts ever so slightly.
“How about we explore this place fully? I’m sure there’s some things we haven’t found yet, my boss can be sneaky and think he’s funny.” He rolls his eyes fondly as he mentions his boss and Peter snickers before getting up to start exploring with his host.
They start by going to the guest room he went to early, his bag sprawled on the bed. Harley begins looking through the clothes in the frankly massive wardrobe, gasping every so often at the branded things left in the guest room. Peter leaves him to it and makes himself busy looking in the side drawers. He idly looks through the socks and underwear as well as the collection of chargers and other spare tech; this guy’s boss is just leaving Stark Industries tech in the drawers, what the fuck? How rich is he?
He opens the top drawer and squeaks, slamming his hand over his mouth. “Oh my god!”
“What?” Harley questions, making his way over.
“Your boss apparently wants your guests to have a very happy stay.” He mutters, gesturing to the drawer he’s just opened to reveal a horrifying collection of lube and condoms.
“Holy shit. Makes you wonder what the fuck he’s put in my room.” At that they both smirk and have the exact same idea. They run out of the room to the master bedroom, throwing open the door. They both freeze.
The master bedroom is massive. The bed is at least a super king size, if not bigger. There is a walk-in wardrobe beside the fucking god-sized flatscreen tv. The ensuite door hangs open to show what looks like an at home spa, though perhaps that’s an exaggeration.
They both soundlessly move over to the windows overlooking the New York skyline. Harley lets out a choked noise, muttering to himself, “Much better than the farms in Tennessee.”
“Beautiful right?” The superhero responds to his muttering. The blonde nods in disbelief and wanders over to his bedside. He turns to Peter and smirks.
“Alright, let’s see how much he wants to embarrass me.” And he opens the drawer.
It’s decidedly much worse than the guest room, showcasing fluffy handcuffs and other uncomfortable items. Harley sputters out a hysterical laugh and Peter joins him, both howling at the absurdity of the boss’ gifts.
“How fucking close are you with your boss?” The brunette muses. Harley grins and shuts the drawer.
“He’s like, a close family friend. Like a crazy uncle? I don’t know, we basically just troll each other. Gotta say, hearing Spider-man swear is so weird.” Peter sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.
“Oh yeah, should probably watch myself huh? You could expose me to my adoring fans. What would the children think?” He jokes. Harley snorts.
“Oh yes. Beware children, your favourite vigilante’s favourite colour is blue and he loves churros! Really invokes fear into my heart.” The blonde dramatizes his words, holding a hand to his heart. Peter fakes offense.
“What are you trying to say? Am I not intimidating? I’ll have you know I can lift a building.” Harley’s quiet laughter falls quiet, his mouth falling open slowly.
“Excuse me? You can what? How fucking strong are you?” The brunette purses his lips in thought.
“I’m not really sure. I haven’t done any tests on my strength for years. Last I checked I was stronger than majority of the Avengers though.” His new friend stares at him in amazement and suddenly jumps up and begins dragging him out of the room. Peter stumbles behind him. “Woah! Where are we going?”
“We’re going to the lab to test your strength. I spotted some crazy weights in there earlier that are made to test products.”
Peter finds himself stood in the centre of the home lab as Harley struggles to drag some of the weights out of the way of what appears to be one of those machines Mr Stark had tested him with years ago. It was designed to be able to change weight depending on your input. He watches as his host sets it to the lowest setting and pulls it into the centre of the room.
“Alright, do you know how this thing works?” Peter nods. “Perfect, we can start with a reasonable amount, considering it’s a warmup. That is if you’re okay with doing this, I’m sorry I didn’t even ask.” The web-slinger smiles fondly.
“It’s cool, go ahead.” He watches as his host quickly starts inputting the desired weight, seeing that it is well in his wheelhouse. I just told him I can lift a building and he’s warming me up with 25kg, isn’t that like the average human’s capability?
Holding in his amusement, Peter confidently meets Harley’s eyes and places his hand on the weight, lifting it effortlessly in one, as if it was a piece of fruit. He can literally hear the blonde’s breathing stutter.
“Oh. Well. I probably should’ve expected that.” He lets out a bewildered laugh that breaks Peter, and has him laughing like a maniac, putting the weight back down.
“Yeah, you probably should have, I think a warmup for me is like a ton, to be honest.” He breathes out, Harley’s eyes seem to pop out even more.
“What the actual- okay alright prove it.” He says in disbelief, changing the weight to a ton. Peter rolls his eyes fondly and moves to pick it up with both hands, astonished when he does actually lift it like it only weighs 50lbs. He does a double take, unaware of Harley’s astonishment next to him, and manoeuvres the weight into one hand.
“Huh, guess I’ve became a lot stronger since I last tested.” He finally looks at his host, who looks about ready to combust. “You alright? Am I scaring you?”
“Scaring me? No! I’m just- What the fuck? I think that would snap my body in half if I tried to lift it. What do we suppose a warm up is for you now? The equivalent of 3 cars?” He’s still looking at the superhuman as if he’s grown another head.
“Well, considering an average car weighs like 2 tons, probably yeah.” Harley appears to pull himself together with a deep breath.
“Alright, let’s see what you can do.”
They continue the process for a while and discover that he only begins to feel the effort at 10 tons, and he only feels the need to stop at 15 tons.
“Okay, so if an average person can end up lifting a ton with hysterical strength, that means you could lift like almost 600 tons in a life-threatening situation. That’s kind of terrifying.” They both stand in silence for a second at the revelation.
“Well, holy shit. That explains how I was able to lift a building.” Harley nods then pauses.
“Hold on, when were you in a life-threatening situation involving a building?” Peter realizes his mistake.
“Uhhh, long story. Some asshole dropped a building on me when I was 15, then crashed a plane and stuff. Pretty complicated.” His heart aches at the memory of his younger days.
“When you were 15?!” The blonde yells in horror. “Were you even Spider-man then?”
“Well yeah it was only three years ago-” He claps a hand over his mouth.
“WHAT THE FUCK?! YOU’RE 18?!” He winces at Harley’s volume and shushes him. I really need to watch what I say.
“Yeah, I’m 18, please stop yelling. My ears are sensitive.” The blonde steps closer to him.
“Sorry, I’m just so confused. Why the hell were you risking your life at age 15? Did nobody try to stop you?” Peter sighs and walks out of the lab, knowing his host will follow, taking himself to the kitchen to grab a drink.
He pours a glass of water and takes a sip silently, eyes meeting Harley’s as he sits at the island awaiting a response.
“At first, I kept it a secret. So no, nobody tried to stop me. By the time anybody knew both sides of me, I refused to quit no matter how much they tried to force me to. And now, well, I don’t have anybody who knows both sides of me anymore.” His eyes water at the reminder and he attempts to steel himself. Harley clears his throat gently.
“What do you mean by that?” He asks timidly, obviously cautious of how bad the explanation might be.
“All of my family is dead. If that’s what you’re asking.” Peter answers bluntly, a tear falling down his cheek as he braces his arms on the counter. He feels a gentle hand placing itself on top of his.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sure they be very proud of all that you’ve done for the city.” The brunette gives him a thankful but weak smile. “Do you- is there nobody else?”
“I had friends. It's complicated but, they don’t know I exist anymore.” Harley’s face contorts with confusion.
“What? Like they have amnesia, or is that just an exaggerated way to say you aren’t friends anymore?” He asks it genuinely, not wanting to offend the masked guest.
“I mean, I guess it’s technically amnesia. Like I said it’s really complicated.” Harley pats his hand to encourage him to meet his gaze, then gestures for them to move to the sofa.
“If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen. I won’t try to ask personal questions or work out who you are, I’ll just be a therapist friend.” He offers as they settle back onto the sofa.
Would it help to talk about it? Peter considers his options. Harley has been nothing but kind so far, but the story is so out there that he may think Spider-man has gone mad.
Screw it.
“Screw it. You want to know what happened? I’m going to sound insane.” The blonde stares blankly at his warning.
“You are literally radioactive or some shit. How insane can the story be?”