Blood and Water
Peter made his way downtown, drenched in freezing water, as the rain continued to pour. He felt a slight twitch of envy as a woman with a black umbrella passed him without sparing so much as a glance to him. Peter stopped in the empty sidewalk and looked up. Rain splattered onto his face, washing away a few specks of dirt that had collected themselves on his face over the day. He took a deep breath through his nose before continuing on. After a while, he arrived in a dark, small alleyway in Midtown. He made his way, navigating the damp labyrinth of back alleys, before coming upon a dead end. He climbed up a stack of crates, before jumping onto the slick wall that created the dead end. After a few seconds of gaining his balance, he straightened up and began walking towards a building. He approached the building and leaped up, grabbing onto the windowsill. He pulled himself in, having kicked in the screen months ago. He climbed into the long-abandoned room and flopped down on the floor.
"I was wondering when you'd show up." Peter looked up to see Harley sitting atop a mound of blankets they've collected over the months. Most of them were torn or were just too small to be of use, but they've collected enough out of dumpsters and Goodwill's to sleep comfortably enough.
Peter snorted, rolling over onto his stomach and resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. "Didja miss me?"
"Hell no. If you'd died, more blankets for me." Harley growled mockingly.
Peter laughed, before standing up and joining Harley on their sad excuse of a bed. "Oh screw you. If I died, you wouldn't last ten minutes. You can't be 'the kid who controls Spider-Man' if there's no Spider-Man."
Harley cringed. "Ugh, that godawful nickname again."
"Well, I mean, you can understand where they got it. Last time someone tried to mug us, I put on my suit and you started ordering me around. I just played along cause I thought it'd be funny and no-one would believe him. That sure bit me in the ass." Peter snorted.
"On the upside, people tend to leave us alone so...." Harley said, shrugging and giving him a look.
Peter shook his head. "Yeah, I guess you're right. What time is it?"
Harley glanced at the clock that he'd stolen a few months prior. Peter had given him an earful when he found out about it but he can't honestly say it hasn't saved them from failing school though. They're hardly getting by as it is. "8:27. You gonna head out and be Spider-Man for a bit, or are we gonna sleep?"
"Naptime. It's a school night and I hardly slept last night." Peter said, sitting up, and opening his bag.
Harley watched curiously, as Peter pulled out two shoplifted granola bars. "Oof, sticky fingers." Harley teased as Peter tossed him one.
"You know I don't like stealing," Peter argued softly, shaking his head.
"Well, I'm glad you did. I'm starving."
Peter frowned at the bar before reluctantly eating it. "Pete, it's okay, nobody's gonna miss two granola bars that were in the back of the store. I'd be more impressed if they even noticed that they were gone." Harley chided. "We gotta fend for ourselves out here man. Nobody's gonna protect us so we gotta protect ourselves."
"I can still wish we had a family." Peter sighed.
"A functional one. That's not Mr. Li." Harley added, laying down.
Peter joined him, slipping on an extra jacket just before doing so. "Yeah... I mean he's nice and all, but I can't see him parenting us." Peter agreed, closing his eyes.
"Someone nice. A bonus if they've got a crap ton of money." Harley added, laughing.
Peter snickered at the comment. "Someone who won't attack us if we screw up."
"You mean when we do anything?"
Peter laughed at that. "We do screw up a lot, don't we?"
"Helluva lot more than 'a lot'. I swear to god, ever since I met you I officially gained your 'Parker Luck.' Now everything I touch just falls apart. It's a miracle that clock's lasted as long as it has." Harley shouted, sitting up and pointing an accusing finger at Peter.
Peter began laughing so hard he coughed. He sat up. "Hey- it's not my fault you're a Parker! You may have been put up for adoption, but you can't run from your birthright!" Peter teased, crossing his arms in an amused fashion.
Harley smiled and relaxed again, laying back down. He sighed slowly before shuffling in the blankets, wrapping himself in one of the larger comforters. "Hey, Peter?"
"Yeah?"
Harley was silent for a moment. Peter glanced upwards at his brother. He's never quiet... "What were our parents like?" Peter stiffened at the question. "I mean, you say you ran away, but you never told me why. I mean, I know that they abused you, that they were abusive, but... just.. what were they like?"
Peter went dead silent, thinking. "I... Dad... he um..."
"You don't have to talk about it, it's okay," Harley said, quickly putting his hands up in surrender and sitting up. "The question isn't eating me alive or some shit. It's just something I wondered about."
"No, it's okay. I just trying to figure out what to say... Dad was... he was mean. I usually could get away from him by going to Uncle Ben's and staying there for a bit. They didn't know about it, I never told them. I knew Ben would be upset if he found out about what dad was doing, how he was acting n' stuff. But anyway, it was really dad I was worried about, he was the one who'd hurt me. He didn't really ever hurt mom, I'm not really sure why he only targeted me. I'm not sure what I ever did but he didn't like me." Peter said, taking a deep breath, and holding back tears.
Harley turned on his stomach and looked at the shorter boy. "What about mom? What was she like?" He asked quietly.
Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes, a more relaxed look crossing his face. "Mom was good. She never hurt me, she'd even defend me when she saw dad getting angry." The relaxed look began to fade as a pained expression crossed his face. "But one day, I'm not sure what happened. She just stopped trying. She stopped defending me, stopped bandaging me up, stopped trying her best to make sure I had eaten. Sometimes she'd ask if I was okay after dad left, but not a lot. After that, when she stopped trying to help me anymore, that's when I left."
Harley stared at him before reaching out and messing up his hair affectionately. "Well, now we got each other. We don't need 'em. We're doing just fine on our own!" He yelped.
Peter laughed softly, but Harley could see the pained look that still graced his features. He sat up and pulled Peter into a hug. He hugged back, knowing he really needed it. "Just so you know, if I ever meet them, I'm gonna kill 'em."
Peter laughed and shook his head. "No, I don't want you to get arrested. I wouldn't be able to pay bail."
"Who said I'd ever get arrested?
Peter laughed harder. "God, Harley, go to fucking bed." He said, shoving him playfully.
Harley laughed at his brother. "Night Pete."
"Night Harls."
.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Bright sunlight streamed into the empty room. Peter opened his eyes slowly and sat up. He looked around for a moment and saw Harley was still sleeping. He glanced up at the clock, to see it was 7:23. Peter yawned, "Huh, I woke up late. 30 minutes till school." He muttered to himself.
He stood up and twisted his back, hearing the satisfying pops. He stepped over to Harley and nudged him with his foot. "Hey. Fuckface. Get up. We've got to go to school."
Harley groaned. "What do you want, you son of a bitch and bastard?" He slurred tiredly, his southern accent bleeding through.
"I would say don't talk about my parents like that, but it's absolutely true. We have school, get up."
Harley stood up and yawned as Peter dug through the duffel bag for a change of clothes. Peter had five shirts, a pair of jeans, and two pairs of shorts. One of the shorts and shirts were at school for gym class. Peter stretched again as he changed into a plain black long-sleeved shirt, a tank top under it, the green denim jacket he got from Uncle Ben, a pair of jeans, and old blue and white shoes. He sighed as Harley followed suit, changing into the fresh-smelling clothes he'd washed at F.E.A.S.T. Peter looked up at Harley, who was wearing a white shirt with blue long sleeves and a pair of black jeans and dirty black shoes. He was combing his hair, presumably to tie it up with the hair tie in his mouth. Harley stretched and pulled on his old black leather jacket, before grabbing their backpack and strutting to his side. Since they had so few things, they shared a backpack. Most of their stuff got left at school anyway, an extra precaution for in case they were robbed. Peter slipped out the window and onto the wall. Harley followed close behind, jumping down onto the crates.
The twins began making their way to Midtown Science and Tech and in about ten minutes, the two arrived at the school, giving them 15 minutes of free time. The two ate the free breakfast that was provided. The school had made a policy of free food if you're unemployed, have financial troubles, or if you're homeless. Peter and Harley met all three requirements if you didn't count patrolling and controlling crime to an extent as jobs. Peter sipped his milk unenthusiastically, with a tired look on his face. Harley laughed at the look on his face. "God, you look like you're about to kill someone."
Peter laughed softly before yawning. "We really gotta get phones, something cheap so we can set alarms. We're cutting it real close nowadays."
Harley nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we gotta take this opportunity for all it's worth. This is our ticket off the streets."
Peter nodded solemnly in agreement, before drinking the rest of the milk and resting his head on his hands as he watched steam drift off biscuits and gravy. Harley looked up and waved. "Hey, Ned."
Peter looked up to see his friend sitting down beside them. "Hey, guys! Guess what happened!"
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"
"So okay. I got two new LEGO sets! One's a TIE fighter, and the other is a First Order Assault Walker." Ned shared easily.
A smile grew on the twins' faces. "Seriously?!" Peter asked, his back straightening up.
"Yeah! We should go to your place to build them." Ned chirped eagerly, looking between Peter and Harley. Peter knew he meant well. He hasn't told Ned about their unfortunate living situation, and he plans to keep it that way. But Ned's been attempting to go to their 'house' for weeks now, ever since he realized that the bothers often went to his house but he's never been to theirs.
"Ned, we can't build it at our place, we-" Before Peter could finish his sentence, the shrill bell rang, alerting everyone that there were five minutes to get to class.
Peter sighed. "Time for class guys." He said, standing up and dumping his tray, not without grabbing the small bowl the biscuits and gravy were in first, before putting the now empty tray onto one of the shelves to later be washed.
Ned stared after Peter and Harley, as the two quickly speed-walked to their classrooms. Peter sat down in the first period, pulled out a pencil and began digging into his breakfast. "Parker! You aren't supposed to be eating in here." His teacher warned.
Peter looked up. "I'll finish it before class starts! I promise." He yelped as he shoved a spoonful into his mouth.
His teacher glared for a moment, before nodding. "I want it in the trash by the bell." He warned.
Peter nodded. "Alright."
.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Before Peter knew what was happening, it was lunch. He would say that classes sped by, but he was disassociating for the most part. Not that he wasn't paying attention or he didn't care, he just knew it already. He was fluent in Spanish thanks to a few classes from other frequenters at F.E.A.S.T. who sympathize with his situation and decided to teach him what they knew, and the same applied to Italian. Though it was his aunt who had taught him, he hasn't spoken it in months so he's somewhat rusty. Then there was Science and Math. Those were his favorite subjects but he was above average and just about everything they were teaching was review for him. Then it was Study Hall, where tried to correct a faulty web formula that had hardened too quickly and wasn't elastic enough. Now it was lunch, and to say he was starving would be an understatement. He took a deep breath and got his too-small tray of limited lunch food and flopped down at his regular table. His study hall class was close to the cafeteria, so it’d be a little bit before his brother, Ned, and the mystery girl at the end of his table would show up. He ate slowly, savoring each bite of the cheap chicken sandwich and canned mashed potatoes. The school will deny it till their dying days, but Peter could hear the can opener operating. He took a deep breath through his nose as he chewed his sandwich. Harley sat his tray down across from him as usual. “Hey bro.” He greeted happily.
“Sup,” Peter replied while waving half-heartedly.
“You know what we’re gonna do for dinner?”
“I was thinking we’d head to the church then F.E.A.S.T. afterward, it’s gonna be it the lower 40’s tonight so it’s gonna be cold. We could either buy some replacement batteries and kick on the heater or we can stay the night.”
Harley raised an eyebrow. "Why do we need new batteries?"
Peter sighed. "The old ones kicked the bucket sometime last night. It wasn't on this morning and the ones we have aren't rechargeable. Take note, get the rechargeable ones and a charging port." He snorted.
Harley let out another sigh. "Pete, we're squatting at an abandoned apartment complex. The place doesn't have electricity to charge them."
"Well no shit, Sherlock, there's electricity at F.E.A.S.T. isn't there?"
"Fuck you, Watson." He replied through soft chuckles.
Peter rolled his eyes. "Either way it's gonna be cold and we gotta stay warm somehow. And to think, for like a week there it was in the ’50s and ’60s at night.” He sighed, shaking his head, as Ned joined the table.
Harley nodded slowly. “We gon die at this rate.”
“At times like these, I wish global warming would speed up.” Peter joked.
Harley snorted, as Ned snickered. “What are you two even talking about?”
Harley and Peter jerked, only just realizing Ned was there. “Uh- nothing important.”
“We challenged each other to see if we could survive winter with our windows open.” Harley recovered. “We need to know how many blankets we need.”
“Seriously? No wonder you've been sick Harley." He said, turning to Harley who was currently holding back a wet cough. "You know, if you need more blankets, I could give you some of mine. I have like- twenty. I was just gonna give them to a homeless shelter or goodwill, or something.” Ned offered.
“We’ll take ten,” Peter said, shooting upwards.
Harley laughed slightly. "Wait really? You're gonna give up blankets?"
“Yeah, if you need them to survive your ‘open window challenge’.”
“‘Open window challenge’?” Mystery girl questioned.
Both Peter and Harley jumped. "Jesus- let us know when you get here wouldya?" Harley snapped.
“We’ve been leaving our windows open every night to see if we’d survive.” Peter lied, recovering from the scare quickly.
The girl stared at them. “Okay, well, that's a load of bullshit. I don’t give a shit who your parents are, the amount of heating money that’d cost is insane.” She said flatly.
Peter gave Harley a look that screamed, ‘shit she’s onto us’. Harley immediately shrugged. “Truth is we’re hobos and we need as many blankets as we can get.”
Ned laughed at that and Peter’s face paled as he elbowed Harley harshly. "What the hell?!" He hissed softly.
Mystery Girl frowned. “You’re not kidding, are you?” She asked.
Ned stopped his laughter and looked at her. “Of course he is, right Harl-” He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Peter's unhappy look.
“I wish I was kidding.” Harley finally said grimly.
“It’s the reason we can’t let you come over. You wouldn’t have a place to come over to. I mean, you could, but you wouldn’t like it. Not to mention it’s a pain in the ass to get into. But it keeps people away so we take what we can get.” Peter rambled.
“We live in a condemned building and we get in through a window on the second floor so it’s not really the best place to hang out,” Harley explained, giving him an apologetic look.
“Oh god... I-I’m sorry, what happened to your dad Peter? Your mom?” Ned asked, a scared look crossing his face.
Peter felt himself flinch at the words and he shrugged hesitantly. "That's not something I'm ready to talk about quite yet."
Neds' and the Mystery Girls’ eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “Wait, were you abused?” The girl asked insensitively.
Harley slammed his hands on the table as a warning. "None of your damn business." He snapped.
The two flinched at that and Ned paled considerably when he saw Harley's irritated look. He took a deep breath through his teeth, before reassuringly patting Peter's shoulder. After a moment, the two relaxed and Harley looked up to face the two. "Look, it's not something you need to know about yet." He growled.
The Mystery Girl nodded after a moment. "Sorry." She finally said, and the table fell into an uneasy silence.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Peter stepped into the bright sunlight and skipped down the steps of the school, Harley jogging close behind. “Peter- slow down!”
“For what? For Ned to catch up and pity us? We didn’t need to tell him! You should’ve at least asked me beforehand.” He snapped, whipping around and facing Harley with a hurt look.
“Okay, look. That was a douche move on my part. Okay? I know that. But you have to understand that he’d’ve figured it out soon enough. He’s not an idiot Peter, he’s like you. Just lacks common sense.” Harley said, landing a joke to try and defuse the situation. He put his hand on Peter’s shoulder, and Peter threw it off.
“Don’t- just… I need to be alone.”
Harley stared after his brother, feeling guilty. He let out a deep sigh, as Peter stomped away. He turned and began walking to the building.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Peter stepped into Delmar’s Deli, preparing to order his usual, as he began to pet Murphy. In his mind, he tried to justify his anger but only felt more guilty as he continued to think about it. Harley had no right telling Ned that we both were homeless without even letting me know first... I mean, Ned could help us, but we don’t need help! ...what the hell am I thinking?! We need so much help it isn’t even funny. We’re half-starved to death and we’re questioning if we’ll make it through the night tonight. Jesus Christ, I’m a mess. “What’re you getting kid?”
Peter nearly jumped out of his skin, and let out a startled yelp. He quickly turned and put his hand on his chest. “Holy shit- don’t ever do that again, I think I’m going into cardiac arrest.” He yelped, not looking at the man.
The man laughed. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Peter looked up at the man and let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry," He chuckled out. "I'm a bit jumpy."
The man nodded. "It's okay." He replied before looking up at the menu. "Do you come here a lot? What's good here?" He asked.
Peter snickered. "Sir, this is the best place to get sandwiches in all of Queens. Everything is good."
The man laughed before sighing. "I guess I'll get a BLT."
Peter made a face. "That's literally the worst sandwich you could get out of the entire menu."
"Well, then what're you gonna get?" He challenged.
"Chicken and ranch sandwich with bacon."
The man stopped and went silent for a moment. "That sounds good. I might get that one too." He said after a few moments.
Peter snickered and heard Mr. Delmar call to him. He approached the counter, and took his sandwich, and rifled around in his pockets for $2. His stomach practically dropped, when he couldn’t find the quarters he’d stocked up on over the past couple days. He made a frustrated noise and pulled out everything in his pockets, that consisted of wrappers, a container of .7m pencil lead, a mechanical pencil, a broken eraser, and a couple quarters. He heard a soft sigh, then there was a $50 bill on the counter. “That's for his and mine. Give him the change.” Clint said calmly, staring at Delmar with an amused look.
Peter gaped for a moment before taking a deep breath. "No, no stop. Don't-"
"Kid it's okay." He said chuckling.
"Sir- please I can't. I don't even know your name!" Peter yelped.
"My name's Clint Barton. A pleasure to meet you." He said, a shit-eating grin crossing his face.
Peter hesitated for a moment, the name ringing bells in his head before he recognized the name. "Clint Barton? The Clint Barton? As in Hawkeye? The Avenger?" He asked, with each question raising a few pitches as he got more and more excited.
Clint nodded. "That's me."
A huge smile crossed Peter's face. "Oh my god- you're kidding! I'm your biggest fan!" He shouted happily.
Mr. Delmar smiled softly at Peter's excitement. "Is that so? Want an autograph?" Clint offered.
Peter gaped for a moment, before dropping his bookbag and digging through it, pulling out his notepad. He shuffled through the pages before finding an empty one and quickly began searching for a sharpie. After finding a half-dead blue sharpie, he quickly handed it to the Avenger, his smile never fading. Clint chuckled and happily signed. "Want a selfie? You can show off to everyone at school if they try to call bullshit on the autograph." He offered once more.
Peter could tell that Clint didn't get much recognition, so when he did get recognized by a fan he wanted to take it for everything it was worth. He still let out a soft sigh. "Sadly, I can't. Don't have a phone."
Clint raised a curious eyebrow as Mr. Delmar handed Peter the change. "How come?" He asked as Peter stuffed the coins into his pockets and the remaining $44 into his backpack.
"I... I can't afford it." Peter lied after catching his hesitance.
Clint squinted at him. "Well, your parents should be able to." He replied, still seeming somewhat confused.
Though Clint hadn't meant to hurt him, the comment still sent hot knives digging into his skin. He must've visibly winced because Clint's confused expression changed to worry. "Hey, are you okay, kid?" He asked gently.
Peter shrugged. "My parents don't care much about what I do. They ignore me so I ignore them."
He turned away from the astonished avenger, before turning to Mr. Delmar who was making their sandwiches. "Hey, Mr. Delmar? Can you double my order? I gotta apologize to Harley. I was kind of a dick to him." Peter said, an embarrassed look crossing his face.
"Oh Dios, what happened?"
"He... He said something that I didn't want people to know." Peter said hesitantly. "I kinda snapped at him afterward and now I feel bad."
Mr. Delmar just nodded calmly. "Hang on, who's Harley?" Clint asked.
Peter shifted, adjusting his jacket so he could nestle in closer to it. "Harley's my twin brother. We got into a bit of a squabble so I just want to apologize, and what better way to apologize than with food?"
Clint chuckled softly. "Spoken like a true genius."
Peter smiled and waved slightly, before turning and beginning to explore in the, looking for Murphy, Mr. Delmar's cat. He ended up in the back of the store by the fridges. A small clicking noise caught his attention. He turned and saw an unfamiliar man fidgeting towards the front of the store, and stepping behind Clint, getting in line with a half-gallon of milk. Something set Peter off about the man. The way he was standing, the fidgeting, his dark gray jacket that draped his features, and most of all, the way he kept looking up at the cameras and behind him as if he was expecting to get attacked at any moment. He stared at the man when he turned to him. The two stared at each other wide-eyed for a moment, before the man let out a panicked shriek. Peter jumped and his spidey sense suddenly began screaming.
Clint stepped away from the man as he dropped the half-gallon. It spilled over the floor as he frantically reached into his coat, turning to Clint with wide, insane eyes. Peter felt his blood run cold as he saw the light reflecting off metal. Before he could stop himself, he began running towards the man. "CLINT GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
Peter slammed into the man, sending him sprawling backward, as he grabbed onto his arm and attempted to pin him. The man was staring wide-eyed at him as pulled out a pistol in his free hand. Peter gasped as the man attempted to aim. Peter attempted to grab the weapon but heard a loud bang and pain overcame his arm. He let out a cry of pain, before kicking the man in his stomach and shoved him away. He gripped his arm, which was beginning to bleed heavily, and he whimpered loudly. Clint took Peter's place, pinning the man down as he turned to him. "Are you okay?!" He asked, looking horrified.
Peter glanced down at his arm and practically cried with relief when he saw the bullet wound was just a graze. Granted, a deep graze that would take at least a few days to mend, but still just a graze. "Y-yeah just got grazed." He reassured, putting his hand on the bleeding wound.
Clint stared at him, as Delmar ran out, looking at the scene with a horrified look. "Oh god, Juan! Call the police!" He shouted to a man working in the back.
Peter quickly stood up, grabbed his sandwich that he dropped at some point, and grabbed his and Harley's sandwich that Delmar had set on the counter. He shoved the food into his bag, leaving the money to pay for Harley's sandwich, and turned to the exit, stumbling out. "Wait- Peter! You're hurt!"
"Kid! Get back here! It'll get infected!"
Peter ignored the shouts behind him and kept walking away.
Peter made his way downtown, drenched in his own blood, as freezing rain began to pour. He approached a familiar alleyway and hoisted himself into the second-story window. He fell to the ground, careful not to damage the sandwiches and cash in his bag. "Peter!?"
Harley ran to his injured brother. "Oh god- are you okay? What happened? Shit- you're bleeding."
"Really? I didn't notice." Peter replied sarcastically, before wincing in pain.
Harley cursed softly, before turning to one of their blankets. He took one of the smaller ones, wiped down the injury, used a bottle of water to carefully rinse it off, and cleaned out the wound. "I'm gonna have to buy shit to keep this from getting infected. The hell did you do anyway? Is this a damn bullet wound?" Harley demanded.
Peter began telling Harley what had happened at the Deli and handed him his sandwich with his uninjured arm. "So, you're saying, we have like, $40 now?" He asked, staring at his brother.
Peter went quiet, thinking. "$47 and 54¢ if you wanna be exact," Peter said.
"Holy shit I feel like we're loaded." He said eagerly, taking a bite of his sandwich.
Peter smiled. "Yeah, we're really swimming in cash." He replied sarcastically.
Harley grinned, before digging in their backpack and pulling out one of the $20 bills he'd gotten as change. "I'm gonna go buy us some medicine. You, stay here. Don't move." He ordered, emphasizing each word.
Peter put his hands up in surrender, before wincing. "Ah ah ah ah! Stop moving your arm!" Harley snapped. "Play one-handed solitaire or something, just don't die."
"Jeez- alright mom." Peter retorted playfully.
Harley snickered, happy to get over their argument, and quickly began making his way to the Deli. He wanted to make sure Mr. Delmar was okay, plus they had medical supplies there so that was a win. And maybe he could punch the guy who shot his brother if he's still there.
He stepped into the store, which now had a police car in front. He frowned, as he watched the man in the back seat thrash violently, trying to escape the cuffs and failing miserably. He smiled at his misery, a rush of satisfaction swimming through him. He stepped in, ignoring the officers and Avenger who yet hadn't left the store but looked very worried. He grabbed a roll of gauze, antibiotics, and medical tape. He stepped up to the counter, where Juan was standing, staring at the officer who was taking reports from Clint and Mr. Delmar. "Hey Juan, I wanna buy stuff." Harley cut in.
Juan tore his gaze away. "Huh? Wha? Oh, hey kiddo. Why're you buying gauze?" He asked, a curious look crossing his face as he rang him up.
"Pete." He answered simply.
Juan looked at him worried. "Is he okay? He ran outta here pretty quick."
"Wait, you're that kids brother?"
Harley turned to see Hawkeye staring at him, with a surprised look. "Yeah. I'm the retards brother, and I gotta patch him up because he was being dumb and got himself shot saving your ass." Harley replied, venom leaking into his voice.
He didn't blame the archer for his brother getting hurt. Peter jumped in front of the bullet, and that was his decision. It's not like the Avenger had asked to be shot at on his day off. But it still happened. And he couldn't help but feel a bit of resentment.
Clint winced at Harley's harsh words. "Look, it's not like I asked the kid to save me-"
"What would've happened if he didn't step in, huh? You'd be dead, wouldn't you? Peter's just the purest goddamn soul in this universe because he does dumb shit like that. Jumps in front of bullets to save others, because he doesn't think he's worth keeping around. No matter how much I get into fights with him about his... unfavorable mindset, that isn't going to change anytime soon. Just move on and let me buy my damn gauze so I can make sure he doesn't bleed out." Harley snapped, not wanting to listen to the archer or really anyone anymore.
He grabbed the supplies, paid for them, and left without a word.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Harley stepped down the street, and despite the freezing rain, it felt like his blood was boiling. He walked to the alleyway, and let out a deep sigh.
He hoisted himself up, silently wondering how painful this must have been for Peter, then pushed himself into the building. He smiled softly when he saw his brother passed out, leaning on the wall. He grabbed his brothers' arm carefully and began cleaning the wound properly. Peter winced in his sleep, and groaned, before waking up. "Ow..." He whimpered.
"Sorry." Harley murmured, as he carefully wiped the injury down.
Peter quickly became coherent enough to see what was happening. "After you're done with this, I'm gonna go out and be Spider-Man." He murmured.
"Like hell you are." He deadpanned.
"I've swung with worse injuries." Peter sighed, sitting up, and giving Harley his arm so he could wrap it better.
Harley kept a close eye on his brother, as he wrapped the wound which had already begun to stitch itself up. "Just because you've been through worse, doesn't mean you should do it. Just, wait until it heals. It's just a graze, and because of that sandwich, it should be healed pretty soon. That's my offer. No changing it." Harley laid out.
Peter stared at his brother for a moment. "Oh my god, you do care."
Harley stopped, before shaking his head at the attempt of a joke. "I do care, Peter. That's why I'm not letting you go out." He reinforced firmly.
Peter stiffened slightly, before sighing. "Alright, I get it... I'll stay."
"Promise?"
Peter looked up, slightly surprised at how small his brother sounded. His brother was looking down, shaking slightly. "Harley-" He paused for a moment, before taking a breath. "I promise I won't go out," Peter swore, wrapping his good arm around his twin.
Harley stiffened, before hugging him back tentatively. After a few moments of hugging, he pulled away from Peter. It had been so sudden, that he left Peter with his arms in the air for a few moments before he realized what had happened, and put his arms down. Harley began putting things away, and he let out a deep sigh. "Let's... let's rest. Since you're going out as Spider-Man later, I'm just gonna clean up, and wash our clothes at the laundromat. I'll stop at F.E.A.S.T. and grab us something to eat too. Don't go out until later tonight." Harley sighed, avoiding eye contact, as he began to pick up some of their shirts.
Peter nodded. "Alright... wake me up in an hour I guess.."
Harley's only response was a mute nod.