Unposted Parkner Stories That I started but never finished

Cherry Wine - Hozier

The Avengers Tower

December

It didn’t start with Flash Thompson fucking him any time either of them had a minor inconvenience. 

It didn’t even start with Harley becoming the school slut, fucking and being fucked by half the grade. 

It started with Harley pulled up to avengers tower, shaking and angry, and hurt. He let Friday pull him up to the top floor, and when the doors open Tony was waiting for him with a pathetically sad, “Kid.” 

“Don’t,” Harley gritted out, “I don’t wanna talk about this.” 

“Harley-“ 

He shook his head, “She hit me one to many times and I don’t care. I don’t. So leave me alone about it. I don’t want to fucking think about it.”

“Okay,” Tony watches him with wary eyes, “Do you want to build something?” 

Those words make Harley deflate. Yes. Yes he wanted to build something. He was a mechanic he lived for building things. He lived to fix things and he could fix himself. He shuffled in, and pulled Tony into a hug, close and tight and in need of comfort, “Yeah. Yeah I’d love to build something.” 

“Okay, kid,” Tony’s voice was soft, tightening his grip on his protege, “Lets go down to the lab.” 

They were mechanics. And when the were broken they could build their ways out of it. Harley may be broken- maybe be shattered- at his past relationship but he could build walls and he could build ways so that it would never happen again. 

What happened with her could never happen again. 

He let out a shuttering sigh, “I want to build a mini robot. Something I can keep with me.” 

They both know he doesn’t mean what he’s saying. They both know that when he says something I can keep with me he means something he can control. And they both know he’s always referred to himself as a robot. 

But he’s not a robot. The evidence of this past year has shown him in so many ways that he’s not a robot. And it kind of fucking hurts like hell. 

“Okay,” Tony tells him, assuring him that he can build the walls he so despritaly needs right now, “We’ll build you something. That Spider one you had a draft for, or…?” 

For the first time in what he thinks is months, Harley’s lip quirks up, and the smile on his face isn’t forced, “Yeah. Bitty.” 

“Let’s build her.” 

They head down to the lab and they work in silence. No words need to be exchanged to understand each other. 

-

Peter didn't exactly mean to sleep in the lab- it kind of just, happened. Which wasn't unusual because he was probably one of the only people who used this lab that didnt nap in it in the regular. But by the time he woke up it was one am, and he couldnt really do anything about being asleep in the lab. In the quiet of Stark Tower.

Except that is not what the tower sounded like right now.

He knew that Harley's room was a floor above the lab, but holy shit. He felt his face grow red at the sounds coming from Harley's room. 

Harley's voice, usually deep and playful sounded on the verge of tears and ecstasy, as he moaned, "Please please- harder-" 

His voice was so breathy and Peter felt the blood rush from his face to somewhere he did not want to think about. Harley was his friend and here he was eavesdropping and fantacizing.  It was not in his cards to think about this. NOt right now. Not after learning about Harley's ex. Not when he was supposed to be a friend.

"Please- please- fuck fuck," Harley was panting, "Please-" 

"Say my name." 

Peter shot up. Holy fucking shit. Was that- 

"Flash, Flash, please, please-" 

Oh fuck. 

Harley was fucking Flash Thompson. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, please, please, fuck."

Okay so Harley was getting fucked by Flash Thompson. 

Peter pressed his hands over his ears and pretended not to feel the burning jealousy that was ripping through his body.

Harley turned, observing Flash sitting up on the bed. He looked... so much more peaceful than Harley had ever seen him. His eyes traced over Flash's bare chest, coming to rest on dark, ugly scars. He paused, "Where'd you get those?" 

"You're not the only one with a shit dad, Keener," Flash mutters, before pulling Harley to his side, relishing in the feeling of skin on skin.

"Oh."

"it's whatever."

"It's not whatever," Harley looked at him, suddenly taken aback by how young they both were. God, seventeen and what where they doing? Screwing each others brains out in the middle of the night because Harley felt sad, "It's something. If you don't wanna talk about it fine- and don't worry I'm no snitch just... stay safe." 

Flash raised a brow, "As I know you've noticed, I'm always safe." 

"Oh my god," Harley huffed, "I didn't mean in sex , you fucking loser, i meant in life."

"I know, I know," Flash threw his head back laughing at his own joke, "And I will. You know-" 

He paused, looking at Harley, running a hand through his still sweat drenched hair, "Thats why I like Spider-Man so much." 

"Huh?" 

"I know that if I ever ran out onto the street, screaming that I need help he'd be there. He looks out for the neighboorhood, and I know that if I was ever in danger he'd help. He's helped my sister before. You know?" 

Harley thought of Peter, regreting it when the very thought brought up butterflies, "Yeah. I do know."

-

Fash was always rough. 

There was nothing slow, nothing soft about Flash. Flash was fast and hard and rough and it hurt- but this is what Harley asked for. He didn't ask for slow sex where he got kissed and got told how good he was doing, he asked for rough. He asked to be hit. He asked for Flash to go faster and harder and all the dirty fucking things he said during sex. 

He didnt ask for Flash to yank his hair back, and growl in a sex ridden voice, "You like that don't you, you dirty fucking slut?" 

And suddenly Harley was crying. 

Suddenly he wasn't haveing sex, suddenly he was realizing who he was: He was no longer Macy Keener's son who played baseball and blew up the garage. He was no longer Abbie Keener's older brother who played dolls with her and taught her how to ride a bike. He was no longer Tony Stark's protoege who knew all the ways to build the iron man armor. 

He was a dirty fucking slut, letting himself get fucked because he wasn't good enough for human emotoions. He was a whore- a bastard- just an object of pleasure and suddenly he couldn't breath. 

And Flash was still so rough-  which wasn't his fault. Harley had asked for this and he probably took Harley's tears as a good thing. But Flash was so rough and fast and he was biting into Harley's neck and all the things that Harley would be so into if he wasn't pancking with the realization he was nothing but a dirty slut.

-

Harley hated it when Peter looked at him like this.

Like he was the best thing in the world. Like he was something to be cherished and loved- he wasn't. Everything he got was everything he deserved. He deserved nothing- yet Peter kept looking at him. Peter kept his warm brown eyes on him and it was making his skin crawl. 

He huffed, "Do you want something Peter?" 

"Shh," Peter hushed him, leaning in closer, "I'm trying to count your freckles." 

"You're what-"

"You've got freckles," Peter stated, before giving Harley another one of those looks that set off feelings he shouldnt have about someone as nice and good as Peter, "Its kinda nice- take off your scarf, I know you're hiding more under there."

Cold dred washed through him, "Uh, thats a bad idea." 

"What? Dude its like 70 in here anyway, take it off lemme count your freckles." 

"Peter-"

Peter was always faster than him, and in one fell motion he had taken the scarf off Harley's neck.

Harley, really, really, really didnt know how to feel. On one hand, he was destroyed because what the fuck now they'll all know on the other hand, the look Peter was giving his neck made his blood steam.

His neck was littered with bite marks. Nasty bruising bite marks that he had asked Flash to give him. 

He really had not thought that one through. 

Tony, sitting on the other side of the lab, stood up, crossing it in one fell swoop. He grabbed Harleys chin, tilting it to the light to examine Harley's neck, "Was it consensual?" 

"Yeah."

"Who?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Because you're a seventeen year old kid," Tony's voice was serious, "You're a kid with a past of, I don't know, unhealthy coping mechanisms. So yes. It does matter."

Harley's eyes met Peters, and he looked away. Peter looked... jealous, if he didn't know better. But he did know better and he knew Peter Parker would never like him. So he sighed, "Didn't get there name." 

"God fucking dammit Harley," Tony cursed loudly, "You're grounded." 

"What-"

Tony frowned at him, face stern, "You heard me. You're grounded."

"Mr. Stark-" 

Harley cut Peter off, "Thats not fair! You cant fucking do that!" 

"My damn house, my damn rules," Tony snapped, "Harley you're seventeen! You cannot be fucking doing this!"

“You’re not my fucking dad, Tony!” 

-

"Flash," Harley breathed, "We're in public."

Flash had him pinned to the wall, one hand pinning Harley's wrists above their heads and the other slipping up Harley's shurt, "So?" 

He bit down on Harley's neck, and in turn, Harley bit back a maon, "So- so, we're going to get caught." 

"That's never stopped you before," His hand was tracing higher onto Harley's skin, "Whats to stop it now?" 

"We were in my personal lab! This is school!" 

Harley almost flinched as Flash's teeth lashed onto his neck again, "Same damn thing." 

"Not," his breath hitched as his touge raced over his pulse point, "Not at all the same damn thing- we're gonna get caught." 

Flash responded by sliding a knee inbetween Harley's legs, effectively forcing Harley to have no power in this situation. Curse his Keener genes making him think with his dick and only his dick. Flash's mouth found his, and Harley wished he could say it was a chaste kiss because he was pretty sure he'd get expelled if someone walked in and saw this scene. 

But it wasn't a chaste kiss, it was a rough one, and Harley was losing it. 

Flash pulled away, continuing his assualt on Harley's neck, "Common, be my dirty little whore for the day?" 

And just like that all attraction he had to this situation was gone. It was all gone with those stupid fucking words. But Harley wasn't an idiot. He wasn't a tease either. He nodded his head, and Flash bit down hard, right as Peter Parker walked into the bathroom. 

Harley knew what it looked like. What he looked like. He closed his eyes for a second, before finding Peter's enraged face and motioning towards the door with his head. He didn't want Peter to see him like this- so ready to be fucked, so much a slut- so fucking eager to be loved. He didn't want that. 

Peter, to his credit, turned on his heel and left. 

Harley pretended he was crying because Flash was doing a good job.

-

“Are you okay?” 

Harley didn’t look at Peter, “I’m fine. Sorry you had to see that.” 

“Is your neck okay?” 

“Yeah,” he moved his collar down, showing peter the nasty bruise that was forming, “Just the usual.” 

Peter’s breath hitches, “So he’s usually like that?” 

“Yeah.”

“Harley-“ 

“Just,” Harley’s voice cracked and it was only then Peter noticed the tears in his eyes, “Don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell tony.” 

Peter gave him a soft look, “Harley if he’s hurting you-“ 

“What?” Harley barked out a laugh, “Flash Thompson? Hurting me? Jesus you’ve never met him have you? Guy never does anything I don’t ask for.”

"okay just- just be safe."

He pretended like his heart wasn't breaking, "i'm always safe."