“And you’re sure this is going to work?”
“Um, duh. Just play dumb and follow my lead. It’ll be worth it.”
Peter Parker struggles to keep up with Harley’s fast-walk and dodge through the masses at the same time. The Yankees game is completely packed tonight–it feels like the entire city is here. He’s got his hand shoved in one pocket to keep anyone from bumping into him and taking the little cash he has, which certainly isn’t enough for a ticket inside. Harley is starting to slip out of his sight and Peter has to pick up the pace with a jog until he can get next to the taller boy again.
“What is the plan, again?” Peter asks, and Harley groans.
“Listen, just follow my lead and stop asking so many questions.”
“But what if we get caught!”
“We’re both minors, dude, what’s the worst that can happen? Stark has to call Thing 1 and Thing 2 to get us out of it?”
“Um, no, the worst that can happen is that we’re both grounded for the next three years until we turn eighteen for sneaking out when we’re already grounded. You know he would’ve bought us tickets if we just asked to go after we got off of punishment, and our last day is tomorrow!”
Harley turns to grin as his brother-in-spirit as they approach the gates. “Yeah. And where’s the fun in that when we can sneak in for free instead?”
Peter worries on his bottom lip and the back of Harley’s head takes his view. He sees Harley motion towards the two of them, but can’t hear what they’re saying very well until Harley turns completely.
“Dude, show the lady the picture of us and Dad on your lock screen,” Harley huffs in fake irritation. He even holds himself impatiently, crossing his arms like a true spoiled kid of a billionaire. “I told her he called in our seats ahead of time as a favor and she’s being totally rude about it.”
Peter freezes up for a split second when he’s put on the spot. Totally not the plan. Scrambling through the pockets of his shorts, Peter hurriedly finds his phone and wakes up the lock screen with trembling fingers to give to Harley. Harley just about shoves the phone in the woman’s face with a “what did I tell you?” attitude.
The photo very clearly shows the boys in question with Stark’s arms around both of them at Peter’s fifteenth birthday party last month. It’s definitely not just a celebrity photo, two kids who ran into Iron Man at a restaurant or something–the boys and Stark are sitting on the couch together in front of a birthday cake with Peter’s name very clearly written on it. It’s a personal photo, obviously taken in an intimate setting, and Peter hopes it’s enough to keep them from getting turned away so Harley doesn’t make him climb the back fence or something.
The woman blanches. Peter feels a little guilty using the whole “Tony Stark is my mentor and so you have to do what I say” card on strangers, especially just ones doing their jobs. He’s about to open his mouth and tell Harley to just come on, let’s go home, but the woman steps to the side.
“My apologies,” she nods again, and Harley turns to smirk at Peter before charging through the gates and into the concourse.
“Dude, we are golden!” Harley exclaims with a devilish grin. “Now all we have to do is find empty seats, right?”
“Yeah, totally easy.” Peter scowls at Harley. “You know these tickets are only like, fifteen dollars, right? Because all we’re going to find are nosebleed seats.”
Harley deflates a little. Peter has to remind himself that Harley isn’t from New York, he’s from Tennessee, and a small town there at that. This is a big deal to him, Peter is sure–exploring the city unsupervised with his best friend without Stark or a bodyguard breathing down their necks.
It’s not that Peter doesn’t like hanging out with Stark. He loves it, or he wouldn’t spend weekends overnight, or invite Stark to all his school stuff. But sometimes Stark takes his role of bonus parent a little seriously, and it’s nice to go hang out without the man panicking whenever he can’t see the boys. And going off alone at a Yankees game? Totally not even on the table as an option.
Plus, being grounded was getting really, really boring. In a Tower full of awesome things to do, Peter and Harley were confined to Suite 14 with no TV or video game privileges.
“Live a little,” Harley had said, giving Peter that broad, cheeky grin that he should be famous for.
Peter’s only been to one or two games because May hated going over to the Bronx when she didn’t have to and the tickets are usually pretty expensive for decent seats. She brought Peter when he was little and they had bleacher seats, which was okay, but he couldn’t see very well and it’s a pretty long, hot day with a seven year old.
“Come on, let’s grab something to eat,” Harley suggests. He gets a few steps away and turns around to look at Peter again with a sigh. “Peter, c’mon. Lighten up. We’re fine–we got in, that’s the hard part. Two kids going to a baseball game, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Peter purses his lips with uncertainty. Two kids going to a baseball game. Yeah, he thinks. That’s right. Just two kids going to a baseball game. Who’s going to know?
Peter jumps in line with Harley for nachos, hot dogs, sodas and popcorn, loading up their arms with as much food as they can get with $30. Peter’s so caught up in having fun with Harley that he almost doesn’t notice when Harley drags him to a set of two empty stadium seats behind home plate with a wink.
“Dude, what’re you doing? We’re going to get busted,” Peter hisses, and Harley rolls his eyes and tosses another piece of golden popcorn in his mouth.
“Relax, Peter. Seriously. We’re not too close to the field, nobody is going to suspect anything.”
“These are assigned seats.”
“And they’re open.” Harley flashes his phone. “I checked on the ticketing website. So would you chill?”
Peter squirms uneasily in his chair, but once the first pitch is thrown and Harley forces a hot dog down Peter’s throat, he’s forgotten all about the anxiety of being caught. They got themselves in, found seats that were open miraculously, and all they had to do was sit back and enjoy the game.
“We should be home by, like, 11, right?” Harley asks sometime during the fifth inning, and Peter shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. “Stark said he was taking Pepper on a date, right? So he’ll be out late.”
“Oh, no doubt,” Peter says with a laugh. “They never come home before midnight. Besides, if we leave a little early, we leave a little early. No big deal.”
“Damn, it’s nice to be outside again after a week,” Harley huffs. Both boys laugh to each other and Peter looks around to take in the fresh air. There’s a light breeze ruffling through his hair, and he puts his feet up against the back of the chair in front of him before putting another nacho into his mouth. Life was pretty good, he thinks, looking out over the blue skies and lush green grass.
The sun was beginning to disappear, and the night was growing darker. Peter shakes an empty cup.
“I wonder if we have enough change for another soda,” he murmurs, and Harley starts to check his pockets too. Removing his phone to check his case for extra cash, he raises his eyebrows.
“Uh oh.”
“What?”
Harley holds up his phone, showing a notification from Stark on the screen.
“Well, what does it say?” Peter asks, leaning over to look over Harley’s shoulder.
Doing ok still?
“Oh, geez, Har, you freaked me out for no reason,” Peter huffs. He plucks Harley’s phone from his hands.
Yea
The next text comes within seconds.
Did you eat
Yea we made freezer waffles
Whatre u guys up to
“I swear, he’s always checking in to make sure we aren’t burning the Tower down,” Harley says with a laugh. “Um… tell him we’re playing Uno for like the millionth time. That’s believable.”
Peter painstakingly types out each word. playing uno. again. :(
We’ll be home around midnight
“See, dude, totally in the clear,” Harley says, punching Peter’s shoulder. Peter laughs, handing his phone back.
“Good look,” Peter says. He takes out his own phone to see that he has a notification from Stark, too.
“Uh oh.”
“What?” Harley freezes, and it’s his turn to lean over as Peter unlocks his phone to a picture of the two of them from behind, at least six rows away. Peter gawks at the picture.
Both boys turn around. Sitting nine rows up, Stark is sitting with Pepper’s hand in his, and both offer an overly-cheery wave to the boys who have been caught red handed.
“Damn,” Harley whispers under his breath. “I guess I forgot to ask JARVIS where they were spending their date.”
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Peter grumbles.
With no other choice, the two teenagers turn around to enjoy their last night of freedom for what is certainly going to be at least two more weeks.
“Worth it?”
“Totally worth it.”