Chapter Text
Peter woke to FRIDAY's pleasantly relentless voice informing him that if he didn't get up right now, he was officially going to be late.
Again.
With a groan worthy of an overworked teenager, Peter pushed himself upright—only to discover Harley's arms still wrapped stubbornly around his waist.
"No," Harley mumbled into the pillow, tightening his grip. "School is cancelled."
"I wish."
Peter pried himself free, earning an offended grumble that sounded suspiciously like a dying bear. Harley promptly stole Peter's pillow in revenge and buried his face in it.
Peter didn't have time to argue.
He sprinted through the world's fastest shower, brushed his teeth in approximately seven seconds, and threw on whatever clothes hadn't permanently fused with the bedroom floor. Spotting a hoodie in the pile of laundry, he yanked it over his head without even checking whose it was.
Good enough.
FRIDAY opened the elevator just as Peter skidded into it.
The doors slid open again onto the Avengers' common floor, where Steve was already waiting with the expression of a man who had anticipated this exact scenario.
"Morning, Pete."
"Morning!"
Steve handed him a paper plate stacked high with pancakes drowning in syrup.
"You remembered to eat," Steve said with a smile.
"You remembered for me."
"I know you."
Peter gratefully accepted the breakfast before ducking back into the elevator.
By the time he reached the garage, Happy was already leaning against the car with his usual look of permanent disappointment.
"You're late."
"I know."
"And you're gonna get pancake crumbs all over my backseat."
"I'll try not to."
"You'll fail."
"...Probably."
Happy sighed the sigh of a man who had accepted long ago that this was simply his life now.
Peter ate his pancakes during the drive while Happy complained about traffic, teenagers, and "the sticky syrup incident of last Tuesday."
As always, Happy dropped him off a block away from Midtown.
"Wouldn't want people thinking you have a billionaire bodyguard," Happy muttered.
Peter snorted. "Yeah, that'd be super weird."
He jogged the rest of the way and slid into his seat just before the bell rang.
Mr. Harrington's disappointed glare hit him with the force of a freight train.
Peter shrank slightly in his chair.
Beside him, Ned immediately launched into an enthusiastic explanation about a new LEGO set. Peter tried—he really did—but after the morning he'd had, the words slowly blurred into meaningless background noise.
"...and if you replace the Technic pieces with—"
Peter's eyelids drifted shut.
The next thing he knew, someone loudly cleared their throat.
Peter looked up to find Mr. Harrington looming over his desk with his arms crossed.
"I'm sorry I'm boring you, Mr. Parker." His smile was painfully fake. "Would you like to come up here and teach the class instead?"
The room snickered.
Peter's face immediately turned bright red.
"N-no, sir. Sorry."
"I thought not."
Mr. Harrington returned to the front of the classroom.
"As I was saying, class, we've been graciously awarded a field trip." He paused dramatically.
"Drumroll, please..."
A few students obediently drummed on their desks.
"...to Stark Industries!"
The classroom exploded.
"No way!"
"Seriously?!"
"That's awesome!"
"Do you think we'll see Iron Man?!"
For everyone else, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
For Peter...
He literally lived there.
Getting excited over a tour of Stark Industries was a little difficult when there was a fifty-fifty chance the tour guide would accidentally walk past his bedroom.
"Dude." Ned leaned over so fast he nearly fell out of his chair. "Do you think we'll see any of the Avengers?"
Peter blinked.
"You had dinner with them two days ago."
"I know, but this time it'll be official."
"...What does that even mean?"
"I don't know, but it's different."
Peter decided not to question it.
Across the aisle, MJ quietly cleared her throat.
She slid her battered sketchbook—helpfully labelled CRISIS in messy black marker—onto Peter's desk.
On the page was a disturbingly accurate drawing of Peter's exact expression from the moment Stark Industries had been announced.
His thousand-yard stare was somehow perfectly captured in pencil.
Peter looked at the sketch.
Then at MJ.
Then back at the sketch.
"...You drew that in, like, ten seconds."
"I'm efficient."
She flipped to a fresh page and twirled her pencil between her fingers with a grin that could only spell trouble.
"I can't wait to see how many sketches I get of you on this field trip, loser."
Peter sighed dramatically.
"I'm being bullied."
"Correct."
"By my friends."
"Also correct."
Ned glanced between them.
"...Can I see the sketch?"
MJ slowly pulled the notebook back.
"No."
"Aww."
Mr. Harrington cleared his throat loudly enough to cut through the excited chatter.
"Settle down, class!"
The room quieted—eventually.
"As I was saying," he continued, holding up a stack of papers, "the field trip will take place this Friday."
A chorus of excited whispers immediately broke out again.
Mr. Harrington sighed.
"If you all interrupt me every five seconds, we're going to be here until Friday."
That earned a few guilty laughs.
He began passing the papers down each row.
"These are your permission slips. Your parents or guardians need to read and sign them, and I need them back by Thursday. No signed slip..." He shrugged dramatically. "No trip."
A collective groan rippled through the classroom.
"And before anyone asks," Mr. Harrington added, "no, forging your parents' signature is not an option."
Several students suddenly found their desks incredibly interesting.
Peter snorted.
"There's also one more form."
He held up a second packet.
"Since we're visiting Stark Industries, you'll all be required to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement."
The class stared blankly.
"...An NDA," Mr. Harrington clarified. "It basically means you don't talk about anything confidential you see there. No posting online, no livestreaming, no leaking company secrets, and absolutely no trying to sell classified information."
Flash slowly lowered his hand.
"I wasn't gonna do that..."
"Now you definitely sound like you were."
The class laughed.
"Both you and your parent or guardian need to sign the NDA." Mr. Harrington looked around the room to make sure everyone was paying attention. "No permission slip? No trip. No NDA? Also no trip."
He smiled with entirely too much satisfaction.
"So if you forget either one..."
He spread his hands dramatically.
"Tough luck."
Peter accepted the papers as they reached him, trying very hard not to laugh.
This was going to be interesting.
Especially considering he was pretty sure he'd have to ask Tony to sign the permission slip... so he could attend a school-approved tour of Tony‘s own company.
Yeah.
There was no way that conversation wasn't going to be awkward.
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Mr. Harrington looked up from his desk and motioned for Peter to stay behind.
Peter hesitated for a moment before nodding.
Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, he shot a confused glance at Ned and MJ as they filed out with the rest of the class. MJ raised an eyebrow, silently asking if he was okay.
Peter could only shrug.
Once the classroom had emptied, Mr. Harrington cleared his throat.
"Now, Peter," he began, folding his hands together, "I know this past year has been incredibly difficult for you. Losing your aunt..." His voice softened briefly before returning to its usual tone. "I've let a few things slide because of that."
Peter frowned.
"For example," Harrington continued, "this supposed internship at Stark Industries. We both know they don't hire high school students."
Peter's eyes widened.
"They do!" he blurted, cutting him off. "The paperwork—I handed in all the correct paperwork for it!"
Mr. Harrington let out a weary sigh.
"Peter, I don't doubt your intelligence. In fact, I think you're smart enough to forge convincing paperwork if you really wanted to." He offered what he clearly thought was a reassuring smile. "You're a bright kid. Maybe one day, when you're in college, you'll earn an internship at Stark Industries."
Peter stared at him in disbelief.
"But right now..." Harrington continued, "I think you're telling this story because you want people to believe you're destined for something bigger. And honestly, I understand that."
Peter opened his mouth to argue again, but Harrington gently raised a hand.
"I'm only trying to spare you the embarrassment. On Friday, when we go to Stark industries, the truth will come out. I think it would be better if you came clean to your classmates before then."
Silence settled over the room.
Peter clenched the strap of his backpack so tightly his knuckles turned white. He wanted to protest, to explain that he wasn't lying—that everything he'd said was true. But the words caught in his throat.
Mr. Harrington smiled kindly, completely unaware of how wrong he was.
"Think about what I said," he said. "You're dismissed."
Peter gave a stiff nod before turning and walking out of the classroom, frustration simmering beneath the surface.
If only Mr. Harrington knew the truth..
For God's sake, Peter practically lived at Stark Tower.
After May died in a car accident during the Blip, Tony had stepped in without hesitation.
What had started as Tony insisting Peter shouldn't be alone had slowly become something more. Before Peter had even realised it, Stark Tower had become home.
Tony had adopted him.
The thought made Peter's chest tighten. He still missed May every single day, but at least he wasn't alone anymore.
With a quiet sigh, Peter made his way outside to the usual pick-up spot, where a sleek black Audi was already waiting. Happy sat behind the wheel, drumming his fingers impatiently against it.
Peter opened the back door and tossed his backpack onto the seat before climbing in after it.
As Happy pulled away from the curb, he glanced up at Peter through the rear-view mirror. His brow furrowed ever so slightly.
Most people thought Happy Hogan was gruff, intimidating, and emotionally unavailable. Peter knew better. Over the years, he'd learned to read the tiny expressions and subtle changes in his voice. Happy cared—a lot more than he ever let on.
"What's got you looking like someone kicked your puppy?" Happy grumbled, trying—and failing—to sound uninterested.
Peter let out another sigh, resting his head against the cool window.
"It's stupid."
Happy snorted. "Try me."
"My teacher..." Peter muttered. "Mr. Harrington pulled me aside after class."
Happy's expression immediately sharpened.
"He thinks I'm lying about my internship at Stark Industries."
"...Seriously?"
Peter nodded miserably.
"He said Stark doesn't hire high school students. Then he accused me of forging the paperwork and told me I should admit I made it all up before the field trip on Friday."
For a moment, the only sound inside the car was the hum of the engine.
Then Happy let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"That's the dumbest thing I've heard all week."
Peter couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at his lips.
"I just want to get back to the Tower," he mumbled. "Spend a few hours in the lab with Tony and Harley... then crash in bed with Harley."
His boyfriend.
Just thinking about him eased some of the tension sitting on Peter's shoulders. Harley always knew exactly how to make him smile, even on the worst days.
Happy was quiet for another moment before something Peter had said seemed to click.
"Wait, kid..." he said, glancing at Peter in the rear-view mirror. "What's this about a field trip on Friday?"
Peter groaned, already dreading the day.
"Oh... it's nothing. Midtown's taking us to Stark Industries."
For a second, Happy just blinked.
Then a laugh escaped him.
Peter frowned. "What's so funny?"
"You are."
Peter looked at him, unimpressed.
"Kid, you're going on a guided tour... of your own home."
Peter let out a dramatic sigh and slid lower in his seat.
"When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous."
"It is ridiculous," Happy chuckled, shaking his head. "You probably know the building better than the tour guides."
Peter huffed but couldn't argue with that.
Happy's smile slowly faded as another thought crossed his mind.
"Do your classmates know?"
Peter immediately shook his head.
"No. And I'd like to keep it that way."
Happy raised an eyebrow.
"I don't need everyone finding out I live at the Tower."
A knowing smile spread across Happy's face.
"Good luck with that."
Peter groaned, dropping his head back against the seat.
"Don't."
"I'm just saying..."
"Happy."
"Kid, you seriously expect none of the Avengers to notice that a bus full of teenagers is touring Stark Industries?"
Peter squeezed his eyes shut.
"I know," he muttered. "I just don't want any of them crashing my field trip."
Happy let out another laugh.
Neither of them believed that was actually going to happen.
If anything, Peter's biggest problem wasn't going to be keeping the Avengers away.
It was going to be stopping them from
embarrassing him in front of his entire class.
Every single one of them would jump at the opportunity to embarrass Peter.
By the time they reached Stark Tower, Peter had almost forgotten about Mr. Harrington altogether.
Almost.
Happy pulled into the underground garage and parked before turning off the engine.
"One thing," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "You're gonna have to use the main entrance today."
Peter frowned.
"Why?"
"The private elevator's out of service. Maintenance has it shut down."
Peter sighed.
"Seriously?"
Happy shrugged. "Seriously."
With another groan, Peter climbed out of the car and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He'd never actually used the public entrance before. Ever since Tony had taken him in, Peter had always entered through the private garage or one of the secure Avengers-only access points.
Still, an entrance was an entrance.
As the towering glass doors slid open, Peter stepped into the bustling lobby.
Employees hurried from one side of the room to the other, visitors sat waiting on the sleek leather sofas, and the reception desk overlooked everything.
The receptionist—a woman whose name Peter could never remember, no matter how many times she'd introduced herself—looked up from her computer.
Her eyes immediately landed on the teenage boy walking confidently towards the security scanners.
She frowned.
Peter wasn't wearing a visitor's badge.
He wasn't accompanied by an employee.
And he looked far too young to be wandering into Stark Industries on his own.
"Excuse me!" she called, standing from behind her desk. "You can't—"
Before she could finish, Peter stepped through the security scanner.
Instead of flashing red or sounding an alarm, the system chimed cheerfully.
A familiar AI voice echoed throughout the lobby.
"Welcome home, Petey-Pie."
Several employees stopped what they were doing.
"Identity confirmed. Peter Benjamin Parker. Level Gold Alpha clearance. Full facility access granted."
The scanner flashed green.
The receptionist froze.
Her jaw practically hit the floor.
Gold Alpha clearance...
Only Tony Stark and the members of his immediate family possessed that level of unrestricted access.
Her eyes slowly drifted back to the teenager, who barely seemed to notice the announcement as he continued towards the elevators like this happened every day.
Just who on earth was this kid?
Peter made his way up to the Avengers' common floor, his bad mood slowly lifting the closer he got.
The elevator doors slid open.
The moment he spotted Harley sprawled across one of the sofas, lazily scrolling through his phone, Peter didn't hesitate.
He made a beeline straight for him.
"Woah—"
Harley barely had time to react before Peter practically launched himself onto the couch, wrapping his arms tightly around him.
Harley chuckled, instinctively wrapping an arm around Peter's waist to steady him.
"Missed me, darlin'?" he drawled, his soft Southern accent making Peter's heart flutter despite everything.
Peter buried his face into Harley's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of engine oil, laundry detergent, and something that was unmistakably Harley.
"Mhm..." was all he mumbled.
Harley's smile softened.
"Rough day?"
Another quiet hum.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Without another word, Harley threaded his fingers through Peter's hair, gently scratching at his scalp while rubbing slow circles across his back. Peter melted into the touch almost instantly, the tension from the school day gradually slipping away.
The pair stayed like that for what felt like forever, completely content in each other's embrace.
Neither of them noticed Tony entering the room until he loudly cleared his throat.
"Seriously?" Tony said, looking between them with exaggerated disgust. "Get a room, you two."
Peter didn't even lift his head.
Harley simply smirked.
"Jealous?"
Tony clutched dramatically at his chest.
"Absolutely not. I'm just trying to enjoy my own living room without witnessing this level of teenage romance."
Harley laughed.
Peter finally looked up, rolling his eyes.
"You know you're the one who walked in here."
"I did," Tony agreed. "And now I'm regretting every life decision that led me to this moment."
He walked over and, with a grin, grabbed Peter by the wrist.
"I'll be borrowing this one."
Peter groaned dramatically as Tony pulled him off the couch.
"Nooo..."
Harley snickered as Peter reached back toward him in mock desperation.
"Help me!"
"Sorry, darlin'," Harley called with an unapologetic grin. "You're on your own."
Tony triumphantly led Peter towards the lab.
"Come on, Underoos. We've got projects to finish."
Peter shot Harley one last dramatically betrayed look over his shoulder before giving in and letting Tony drag him away.
Harley's laughter followed them all the way down the corridor.
The workshop settled into a comfortable silence.
It wasn't an awkward silence—far from it. It was the kind that came from years of working side by side, where neither of them needed to fill the air with conversation. They instinctively fell into their usual rhythm, passing tools back and forth, tossing around ideas, and occasionally arguing over the most efficient way to solve a problem.
By the end of the afternoon, they were putting the finishing touches on one of Peter's latest inventions.
Well... mostly Peter's.
If anyone asked, he'd proudly admit the project had been his idea from start to finish.
The device itself was small enough to fit comfortably into the palm of a hand, designed to be clipped onto a suit or tucked into a pocket. With the press of a button, it could perform a near-instant medical scan, identifying injuries and prioritising treatment in the middle of a fight or emergency.
Peter had even insisted on giving it a proper name.
V.I.V.I.D. — Vital Injury Verification & Instant Diagnostic.
Tony had teased him relentlessly for spending longer coming up with the acronym than building the prototype.
Peter still thought it was a brilliant name.
The only real problem had been the hardware.
After a handful of scans, the prototype would overheat, drain its power supply far too quickly, and occasionally short-circuit altogether. Tony had helped redesign the cooling system while Peter tweaked the internal circuitry, and together they'd finally managed to eliminate the last of the bugs.
Peter watched as V.I.V.I.D. completed another successful test scan without so much as a flicker.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air. "Told you it'd work."
Tony smirked as he set his screwdriver down.
"You also told me it'd work three explosions ago."
Peter winced.
"...Those were learning experiences."
"They were fire hazards."
"They were educational fire hazards."
Tony laughed, shaking his head.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid."
Peter grinned.
By the time they finally packed away the tools, the workshop's windows reflected the darkening New York skyline. Hours had slipped by without either of them noticing.
As Peter shrugged his backpack onto one shoulder, something suddenly clicked.
"Oh!"
He began rummaging frantically through one of the front pockets until he found two slightly crumpled sheets of paper.
"I almost forgot."
Without another word, he held the forms out to Tony.
Tony took them absent-mindedly, expecting permission slips for a museum or another school event.
Then his eyes landed on the destination.
Stark Industries.
He slowly looked up at Peter, one eyebrow arching in amusement.
"...Really?"
Peter groaned before Tony had even said another word.
"Don't start."
Tony pressed a hand dramatically against his chest.
"You wound me, kid. Whatever would I, the great Tony Stark, ever do to embarrass you?"
Peter gave him a flat look.
"Need I make a list?"
Tony opened his mouth, thought better of it, and simply shrugged.
"Fair."
Peter sighed before his expression turned serious.
"Dad..." he said quietly. "Please don't do anything stupid. And don't tell the others about Friday."
Tony glanced up from the permission slip.
"The field trip?" he asked innocently.
Peter narrowed his eyes.
"You know exactly what I mean."
"I do?"
"Tony."
"I might."
Peter groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
"I don't want anyone ruining it. My classmates already think I'm lying about Stark Industries. I really don't need the Avengers making things worse."
Tony's teasing smile softened just enough for Peter to notice.
"I'll... try."
Peter snorted.
"That wasn't a promise."
"I can't promise I won't accidentally let it slip,
bambino." Tony shot him a shameless grin.
"You know how I am."
"Unfortunately."
Tony laughed before waving him towards the workshop door.
"Go on. Get out of here before I find another project for you."
Peter rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he left.
By the time Peter had finished dinner, showered, and changed into an oversized Stark Industries T-shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms, exhaustion had finally caught up with him.
As he'd suspected, Tony hadn't exactly been subtle during dinner.
Peter had distinctly heard phrases like "school field trip," "Friday," and "Stark Industries" drift across the table, followed by a chorus of suspiciously interested voices.
He was about ninety percent certain everyone knew now.
Which meant there was a ninety percent chance someone was going to show up on Friday and completely destroy any chance Peter had of blending in.
With a long-suffering sigh, he flopped backwards onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"Friday?" he called.
The AI responded almost instantly.
"Yes, Peter?"
Peter turned his head towards the ceiling speaker.
"Where's Harley?"
There was a brief pause.
"Potato Boy is currently making his way to your room," Friday replied, her voice carrying just the slightest hint of amusement. "Would you like me to inform him to hurry?"
Despite himself, Peter smiled.
"Nah... I'm good, Fri."
"As you wish."
Peter pulled the duvet up around himself, already feeling his eyelids growing heavy.
"Goodnight, Fri."
There was a pause before the AI answered, her usually crisp voice somehow sounding gentler.
"Goodnight, Peter."
Moments later, a familiar knock echoed softly against his bedroom door.
Right on time.
"Lemme in, darlin'," Harley's familiar Southern drawl called from the other side of the door.
Peter didn't even bother getting up.
"Friday?"
The AI answered immediately.
"Opening bedroom door."
The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing Harley leaning dramatically against the frame.
"There you are," Harley sighed theatrically as he stepped inside. "Do you have any idea how cold and lonely I've been out in that hallway?"
Peter raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
"You were out there for, like... ten seconds."
"It was the longest ten seconds of my life."
Peter snorted.
"You have your own room, Keener."
"I do," Harley agreed, kicking off his shoes before climbing onto Peter's bed. "But it's awfully empty."
He flopped down beside Peter before immediately wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close.
"And besides..." Harley murmured, resting his chin on Peter's shoulder. "Why would I sleep in my room when I could be cuddling my pretty boy instead?"
Peter felt warmth creep onto his cheeks.
"You're so cheesy."
"And yet it works every time."
Peter rolled his eyes, though the fond smile
tugging at his lips completely ruined the effect.
"Maybe a little."
"I knew it."
Harley grinned victoriously before tucking the blankets around them both.
The room fell into a comfortable silence.
It was the kind of silence neither of them felt the need to fill—a silence that spoke louder than words ever could. Harley absent-mindedly traced lazy circles over Peter's back while Peter rested his head against Harley's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Within minutes, the events of the day faded away.
The two boys drifted off to sleep wrapped safely in each other's arms.
The rest of the week passed by without much incident.
Well...
Aside from Flash Thompson.
Every chance he got, Flash made another snide comment about Peter's "fake internship."
"So, Penis," he'd call across the classroom with an arrogant grin, "ready for everyone to find out you've been lying?"
Or...
"Hope you've got another fake permission slip ready."
Even Mr. Harrington seemed convinced Peter's story was about to unravel.
By Thursday afternoon, Peter had long since stopped trying to defend himself.
No one believed him anyway.
Instead, he simply counted down the hours until Friday.
He just hoped the day wouldn't be as
disastrous as he was beginning to suspect.
Somehow...
He doubted he'd be that lucky.