Peter Parker was excited.
Excited during first, second, and third period, bouncing around in his seat, antsy for the school day to end.
Excited because school would be out at the end of the week, and he couldn’t wait to have days of free time with Mr. Stark and patrolling as Spiderman.
Excited about a cool idea he had come up with to surprise Ned as a celebration for finishing the school year (as long as he could get it to work of course).
Especially excited because Mr. Stark had texted him during lunch to say that there was a surprise waiting for Peter at the Tower.
Peter was so excited in fact, he had forgotten some important things, such as the fact that he was supposed to be working on his final English project with Ned. And what Peter was currently doing (fidgeting in his seat and counting the ticks from the clock mounted above the classroom door) did not count as his English project.
“Peter,” said Ned, prodding him in the arm with a pencil for the umpteenth time. “Come on man, focus. Class is almost over, and we don’t have many days left. Not cool.”
Peter stopped his fidgeting, feeling a little guilty. ‘You’re right. Sorry Ned, got carried away.”
“You always do Peter.” Ned retorted, matter of fact. “Now, Shakespeare!”
Peter groaned, but put his head down and began to work.
—————
The final bell was ringing, and Peter shot out of the school doors, pulling the straps of his backpack on as he ran. Dodging students left and right, Peter wove his way to the parking lot and practically dove into the parked Audi, scaring Happy as he did so.
“Jesus kid, you in a hurry or something?”
“Sorry Happy. No, just have a really cool project I want to run by Mr. Stark.”
Happy nodded, already done with the small talk as he pulled the car out of the school lot and melded with the New York traffic. Peter hummed quietly in the back seat, scrolling through his phone without paying much attention to it as he watched Stark tower get closer and closer in the skyline.
—————
Happy pulled into the Tower garage and parked the car, and Peter quickly gathered his things. He jumped out of the car with a rushed “Thanks Happy!”, to which Happy was unable to respond as by that time Peter was already in the elevator, doors closing.
“Hey Friday! Could you take me to the lab, please?”
Sure thing, Peter.
Setting his bag on the floor, Peter pulled out his phone, quickly pulling up pictures and a concept design he had come up with that morning. He had come up with the idea yesterday during Spanish instead of paying attention, and he was practically dying to show Mr. Stark. Hopefully, with enough begging and puppy eyes, he would get to build it. Who knows, maybe Tony would even let him have Ned over to work on the project too.
With that thought, the elevator doors chimed and began to open, and Peter dashed out, phone at the ready and nearly vibrating with excitement.
“Hey Mr. Stark, wait till you hear what I-“
Peter froze, mouth still open as the sentenced died in his throat, surprise evident on his face. The two inhabitants of the room looked back at him from their position next to one of the worktables. He stared at the boy standing next to Tony, very much unsure of what was going on.
The stranger wore a similar expression, although his looked more wary than openly startled.
Mr. Stark, on the other hand, looked amused, lips twitching as if he found the sudden awkwardness in the room rather amusing. With a clearing of his throat, he turned back towards the boy, giving a grand gesture in Peter’s direction.
“The intern I was telling you about.”
The boy nodded, letting his guard down a little, but still obviously unsure of what to make of the now very flustered looking Peter.
“Uh, Mr. Stark? Am I interrupting something? Cause I can just go-“ He turned to flee the room, but Tony stretched out a hand and grabbed him by the collar, preventing his escape.
“Not so fast, Underoos. I have someone I want you to meet.”
Peter turned back around as Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Peter Parker, meet Harley Keener. Keener, meet Parker.”
Harley stuck out a hand, which Peter took. “Nice to meet ya Parker. You build stuff?”
Peter grinned. “What, you think I come to Mr. Stark’s lab and don’t know my way around?”
Harley grinned back.
Tony interrupted them. “Harley’s staying at the Tower for the summer. Once you’re out of school Pete, you guys will have plenty of time to help me out. For now though, I have a meeting that Pepper will not let me out of, no matter how much I beg. Show Harley around until I get back, okay kid?”
“Yeah, no problem, Mr. Stark.” Before Tony could leave the room, Peter spoke up again, “Hey can I use some of that vibranium left over from Rhodey’s armor upgrades?”
Tony halted, about to get in the elevator. He turned back, scanning Peter’s face for any signs of suspicious activity.
“Why?”
“It’s a project for Ned. Please Mr. Stark?”
Tony squinted at him, then sighed, giving in. “Whatever, I have to go. Just no visits to the hospital wing this time, alright?”
Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely.”
The elevator doors closed, and Peter turned toward Harley, who was looking at him with admiration in his eyes. “Stark lets you have free rein with vibranium? Damn Mr. Intern, teach me your ways.”
Peter chuckled. “It’s all in the puppy eyes, man. Now,” he said, clapping his hands and moving over to his workstation across the room, “What do you know about Star Wars?”
———————
Two hours later found the boys bent over the table, surrounded by scraps of metal and bits of wire, totally absorbed in their work. Despite having only just met, the two already functioned as a team, joking back and forth as they passed tools and a soldering iron between them, their work starting to take shape.
The project that Peter had been obsessed with all day was probably one of the most unnecessary and simultaneously coolest things he had ever built. Ned had spoken about wanting to join Chess Club next year to fill in the time now that neither friend was in Robotics (after Peter quit to find time for Spidermanning, Ned got lonely and decided to pursue other activities). And so, Peter Parker had come up with the brilliant idea of building a Star Wars themed Chess set, complete with laser pointer blasters and miniature lightsabers (thus the need for vibranium).
Overall, Harley and Peter had made great progress, building tiny droids in place of black pawns and tiny clones in place of white ones. Although Peter would’ve preferred to use the original trilogy for the pieces (as they were the far superior movies) the identical troops just made better sense.
Harley was having a great time, learning all about Peter’s work on the nanotech Ironman suit while they worked, and even how Peter had built Spiderman’s web shooters. Really, there was nothing better than this.
That was true, at least, until Peter got carried away constructing the lightsabers, and didn’t notice that he had set the soldering iron just a little too close to the grease rag sitting on the table.
He almost didn’t notice it catch on fire, and probably would’ve carried on tinkering if his flannel sleeve hadn’t caught flame as well.
And from there, the lovely bubble of tranquility and blossoming friendship promptly burst.
Peter Parker was on fire.
On fire because the futile flapping of his arm was doing little to snuff out the flames.
On fire as Harley climbed the table to stomp on the grease rag in an attempt to stop the small blaze from spreading.
On fire while Dum-E beeped in alarm, bumping into tables in an attempt to get to the boy with the much needed fire extinguisher.
Harley Keener was panicking.
Panicking while he gave up on putting out the flames under his shoe and launched himself off the table, wrestling the extinguisher from the distressed Dum-E.
Panicking because Peter was still slapping at his sleeve, cursing loudly as the fire ate through his flannel, and a good portion of the table became covered in flames.
Panicking as he opened fire, dousing everything in white flame retardant, desperate to prevent his new best friend from turning to a crispy New York barbecue.
—————
Peter Parker and Harley Keener were banned from the lab.
Banned for a whole week, after Tony came into the lab to see Harley trying to scoop the foam away from Peter’s face so the boy could breathe, both sitting on the ground, covered in it.
Peter’s poor flannel was rather charred, and he threw it out with a sigh, attempting to comb as much retardant out of his hair as he could with his hands. Harley didn’t look much better, smeared in white from head to toe after rescuing Peter, the bottoms of his beaten in Converse singed.
Despite the mess, the ban, and the lecture Tony had given them after he stopped freaking out, Peter was in a surprisingly good mood. The chess set was unharmed, maybe a little blackened in some places, but otherwise fine. Mr. Stark had even offered to help him and Harley finish it, although that was mostly out of the need to prevent them from burning down the entire Tower.
Harley came over to where Peter was standing by the trash can, mourning the loss of his flannel, and threw his arm around Peter’s shoulders.
“Y’know Pete,” He said casually, wiping some foam from his own hair and flicking it into the can. “This has gotta be the most interesting day of my life. Not everyday you mess with high tech stuff and save some dumbass from his own stupidity.” He grinned as Peter ducked out from under his arm, jabbing him in the side on the way grab his phone. Harley followed behind. “Although, it does remind me of the time I practically resurrected Stark’s sorry ass.”
Peter looked up from cleaning off his screen, curiosity on his face. “You saved Mr. Stark? When?”
Harley puffed up, sticking out his chest and placing his hands on his hips in a mockery of self importance. “I was 11, old man crash-landed smack in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Tennessee. Broke into my garage.”
Peter looked amused, stuffing his phone into his back pocket. “Mr. Stark broke into your garage?”
Harley slung his arm back around the other boy’s shoulder, and the two of them made their way over to the elevator. “You shoulda seen him Pete- wearing a t-shirt under this ugly old poncho. And when I whipped out the potato gun-“
The doors to the elevator slid closed with a soft click.