A/N: Meow guys! So at this point in time, I've finished arc 2 (yay!) mostly because my attention span was screaming in protest already and I fucked my outline and rewrote a pretty big portion of it.

Chapter Warnings: Iron Man 3 proceedings (Deleted Scenes incl.)

ARC 2: CHAPTER 8
Koalemos

-0-

Later, when Harley leaves Mr. Stark to get his sandwich (a bottle of water too, Harley wasn't a savage) and the digital watch he demanded (Emma's Dora the Explorer watch because Mr. Stark never specified his preference), he makes a beeline for the first aid kit his mom liked to keep stocked.

(Harley's not accident prone, really, but he tends to get injured anyway and had a bad habit of not noticing or forgetting about it until his mom notices so he can't heal it by himself. Mostly it's cuts and bruises. The worst ones like the broken bones or stab wounds he gets while working with his projects tend to kickstart the healing process all on its own.)

There's a few moments where Harley contemplated getting a change of clothes as well before he remembers his dad's stuff had all been stored in the garage.

So when he comes back to the garage, Mr. Stark was already hard at work, tools and cannibalized parts laid out on the workbench. The laptop was wired to the Iron Man suit, but it seems Mr. Stark was still working on the coding. Which was fair because running diagnostics on the suit was way beyond the programs Harley's laptop had.

Harley made sure to be noisy and enter the man's periphery before putting down his loot and saying something, "Here you go."

"Thanks, kid." Mr. Stark said absently, but doesn't stop from rummaging through the tool box and typing on the laptop with one hand.

Harley stands to the side, watching for a while, but when it seems like the man had forgotten he was there, he rolls his eyes and grabs the plate of sandwich. Now that Mr. Stark's full attention was on the coding, Harley just blocks the man's sight with the food.

Mr. Stark blinks and stares up at him distractedly. He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and stress lines more prominent, but he had a little bright-eyed look that only came from working on something you really liked despite the situation.

Was this how his mom saw him? Well, minus the stress lines, he guessed. Still, if so, Harley really didn't know what to say to her after this. So of course he tries to emulate the way her face would twist expectantly, all stern and unflappable. It had always worked on him.

"You should eat." And Harley put down the plate beside the man's work area, knowing how annoying it was to have something else handed to him even if his hands were clearly occupied by something else.

It takes a couple more blinks before Mr. Stark reacts. When he did, the man moves the laptop away and takes the sandwich in hand. "Thanks, kid." As if he hadn't said that already before.

Harley makes a noise at the back of his throat and put the water bottle where the man can see it. Stubborn is, stubborn does. Harley knew how to deal with his kind. So far, Mr. Stark was responding well.

"You look like hell," Harley said conversationally as he pulled up the first aid kit, raising an eyebrow at the man's suspicious glance at it, "Y'know, like somebody dragged you all over town and you're wearing nothing but the clothes on your back. Or a huge mountain troll decided to break into your bathroom and destroy it with its club so you had to stop it."

Mr. Stark snorted and swallowed before replying, "That was specific. You always make analogies like that?"

"No," Harley blinks, actually thinks about it, then, "probably. I'm not really sure, never thought of it that way before. So what happened?" Meanwhile, he was pulling out the things he needs from the kit, lining it out in the order he needs it.

"Eh, the usual." Mr. Stark shrugged as he rapidly finished scarfing down the sandwich. "Invited a terrorist in my home for dinner, got blown up. No biggie."

Harley thinks he might have cringed, "That's stupid."

There was a moment where Harley expected Mr. Stark to snap at him, but the man proved him wrong. "Yeah, well, not my brightest idea either." Mr. Stark wiped his hands on his pants and eyed the medical supplies invading his work area. "Uh, you gonna move this, kid?"

"No," Harley answered blithely, grabbing a clean rug and pouring alcohol over it. "Now sit still, mechanic. You look horrid." If Mr. Stark noticed the out of place vocabulary, he doesn't comment. Instead, the man did as asked, again surprising Harley.

Harley made sure to do his job fast, quickly dabbing a careful hand all over the wounds, making sure they were all clean and covered with ointment, before plastering on the bandaids. The ones along the man's arms would need more attention.

"Are those-" Mr. Stark coughed as Harley dropped the package of bandaids back into the kit, "Do those bandaids really have Spongebob on it?"

Harley made to stare at the man's face, suppressing his snickers and considered playing it off but decided not to. "Yeah. And," Harley raises his voice when the engineer made a move to peel it off, "you can't remove them or else I'll just replace it with the ones with Barbie on them. We've got lots of that one."

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes but muttered a sullen, "Fine."

So maybe the man was humoring him. Harley wasn't about to waste that opportunity, "Arms please."

Mr. Stark presents it with a flourish that had Harley rolling his eyes. Eyeing the lacerations that were, truthfully, not gruesome nor many, Harley longed to just let his Magic do the work it's itching to do but had to resign himself to doing it by hand. Trying to trust the man or not, Harley was in no way ready to reveal his Magic.

(Trust? Trust was okay. Trust is okay. The betrayal seemed so very, very far away now, but-)

Grabbing the forceps, Harley set to work on plucking away the left-over debris that the man hadn't managed to remove. It was no time at all when Harley finishes, having had a lot of practice with bandaging wounds over the years (and lives). Non-threatening cuts were child's play.

The mechanic frowns at his neatly bandaged arms before swerving his deeply analytical look at Harley. "You're quite good at this."

"Guess so." Harley shrugged, packing away his things and dragging the laptop back in its place in front of the man. Discomfort curled at his gut as it always did when someone questions his abilities in this lifetime. "I got lots of practice."

"Huh," was all Mr. Stark said though the frown didn't leave his face.

Harley pursed his lips and thinks of something to break the silence, "Is there anything I can help with?"

"Yeah, sure," And just like that, the somber mood was gone, replaced with an overly bright smile that didn't fool Harley one bit. "C'mere kid, I'll introduce you to J.A.R.V.I.S."

-0-

Much like it usually was during the holidays, Rose Hill is a bit more lively at night than it is during the day. Christmas lights spanned along rooftops and across streetlights. The light dusting of snow is only present at the gutters and canopies, allowing pedestrians and traffic to move in peace, though the drunks that would come out later are fair game.

Harley walked right beside a poorly disguised Mr. Stark—honestly, Harley could have done better, but it's not like people are actively searching for the man, not when they think he's dead—and leading them to Chad Davis's old house. Well, now Harley is very curious and kind of wished he tried to snoop around more. Hindsight really is one of his greatest enemies.

"By the way," Mr. Stark chattered about, "when you said your sister had a watch…"

Harley's lip twitched, "Yeah?"

"I was kind of hoping for something a little more adult than that."

Harley was unable to hold back his laughter—doesn't really try to, actually savors it, because he really likes how it felt like at this moment—at the offended look Mr. Stark sent the plastic, pink watch. "She's six! Anyway, it's limited edition." One of Harley's more impulsive gifts to her, in fact, but she didn't really have a use for watches. Not when she's barely allowed to go outside.

"When can we talk about New York?" Harley asked, trying to keep the atmosphere light and it had been in his head for a while now. It was a neutral topic, right? So he's befuddled with the billionaire's response.

"Maybe never," It was nonchalant, but was obviously snappish. "Relax about it."

Harley's brows furrowed and cast a glance at the engineer, "What about the Avengers? Can we talk about them?" Really, at this point, Harley was just so confused about this man. Obviously he wasn't as self-centered as the media liked to paint him (they barely get anything right), but the thing is, Harley wasn't good with people.

Harry had been raised with little (very, very little) emotional nurturing, and had suffered through a lot of emotional and verbal (and physical) abuse in his formative and most crucial years. He had been impulsive and angry (and self-sacrificing and generally stupid about his decisions) and broken down by the world.

Harrhan was a bit better, excellent at reading the most deceptive of actions but absolutely clueless at reacting to it properly and on his own (he'd stopped talking instead, had chosen to keep his silence well beyond what he could handle). Violence (and death, there had been so much death) had played a big role in his life, he thrived in it.

Being reborn as Harley Keener didn't suddenly make it any better because now he actually had to care about how he reacts, how people would see him.

Years, decades of being part of the Black Order, of being Thanos's child, had its own demands with emotional and psychological capacity, one that Harrhan had completely adapted to. There's truth in the wisdom that it's hard to unlearn what has been learned.

So yes, Harley Keener is pretty bad with people. Or, well, interacting with them. That suspected autism he'd managed to avoid being tacked on his name had to come from somewhere.

But this, now, as Harley Keener the human kid dealing with a man who seems to be as emotionally constipated as Harry Potter had been?

Tony Stark is confusing in most of the levels that matter. Hit and miss was the nicest way of putting it.

"I dunno. Later." There's finality in the man's voice, pushing Harley away as if that would physically push away his problems. "Hey, kid, give me a little space."

Harley sighed but complied. They make it to the site in silence, where Mr. Stark immediately started examining the wreckage that the other residents had taken to using as a memorial for those who were caught in the explosion. It's curious, really, because Harley knew nothing of a bomb that would only leave the imprints of the people who died, like a very morbid silhouette representing death.

He'd long resolved that Harley Keener wouldn't be too different from everyone. Harley had never seen reason to stand out. Not until a year ago, at least.

"What's the official story here?" Mr. Stark asked, "What happened?"

"I guess this guy named Chad Davis who used to live roundabouts." Harley shrugged, making his way to the crater in the middle of all the mess and crouching down before it. "He won a bunch of medals in the army. And one day, folks said he went crazy and made, you know, a bomb. Then he blew himself up, right here."

Mr. Stark closely studied the imprints on the walls, "Six people died, right?"

Harley nods, "Yeah."

"Including Chad Davis."

The man doesn't need it, clearly thinking out loud, but Harley still responds, "Yeah, yeah."

"Yeah…" Mr. Stark trailed off and went to crouch down right beside him. "That doesn't make sense. Think about it. Six dead, only five shadows."

Harley meets the man's eyes, feels a flutter of something at the expectant look that meant Harley's words and opinions and ideas mattered to what's going on in the engineer's head.

"Yeah." Harley breaks his gaze and looks down at the crater, the something turning out to be pleasant. "People said these shadows are like the marks of souls going to heaven. Except the bomb guy. He went to hell, on account of he didn't get a shadow. That's why there's only five."

"Do you buy that?"

"It's what everyone says." Harley shrugged, not actually giving his answer. His actual answer is more complicated, more… something that would come out of a crazy person's mouth or an incredibly creative kid. It all boils down to no, they are wrong in every aspect of that tale.

"Hey Mr. Stark-"

"-Tony, kid. How many times have we talked about this?"

"Okay, mechanic," Harley puffs out a breath, admitting to himself that he was maybe stalling, but he really needs information. To know what the Avengers know. "Are they… coming back? The aliens?"

"Maybe." Mr. Stark's answer was abrupt, expression approaching a panic. "Can we- can we not talk about this?"

"Yeah but," Harley tried, really, but this? New York is such a big concern and once he'd opened his mouth, it was kind of hard to put back the stops. "Do the Avengers think that? Shouldn't we be preparing for it? Why is it that everyone seems to think it was nothing?"

"You- I-" Mr. Stark let out a harsh breath, pinches the bridge of his nose in agitation. "Remember what I told you, that I have an anxiety issue?"

Oh.

Harley was all kinds of socially inept, but he likes to think that he wasn't entirely insensitive. Not when there's a lot of landmines to tiptoe around with his mom and Emma and school (and himself, sometimes). He has more self-control than that, mostly.

So, Tony Stark trigger warnings include New York or the Avengers or aliens in general.

Just to be clear, "Yeah. Which one shouldn't I talk about?"

"How about-" Mr. Stark takes a deep breath and tried to regulate his breathing but it was obvious he can't. "How about we drop this subject, all of it, and don't talk about it. Great? Great."

"Okay, okay- okay," Harley was sort of starting to freak out too. He'd never dealt with anyone going into a panic attack. "D'you need a plastic bag to breath into?"

"No."

"Uh, medication? Do you have medication?" Harley always carried with him his and his sister's medication in case of emergencies, though he doesn't think complera would help anyone here. Ritalin would just be counterproductive.

"No."

Harley breathes in, tried to think fast, but blurts out, "Do you have PTSD?"

Mr. Stark shakes his head, "I don't think so."

"Uh, okay- just-" Harley takes a deep breath, shifts so he was kneeling in front of the man, "Just breathe, okay? Just focus on breathing, Tony." Yeah, as if Mr. Stark wasn't already doing that.

Harley absolutely sucked at this.

Thankfully, the man does eventually calm down, if running to a corner and shoving snow on his face counted as calming down. It made Harley feel bad (sympathetic? A touch empathetic?), seeing the proud man fall apart like that.

(Because of New York-

Because of you.)

Of course, that was when EJ decided to show up.

Harley lets out a deep exasperated sigh when he heard the telltale sound of the ATV EJ and his band of friends used. Really, they're bullies, but Harley was more annoyed than anything whenever they see him as their target. The sounds come closer and-

Yup.

Now Harley's drenched with snow.

"Hey Harley," EJ called out mockingly, all arrogant rich-boy in a backwater town, "Who's that, your boyfriend?"

Harley spares a glance at the still-pulling-himself-together Mr. Stark, before sending a smirk at the other boy, "Are you jealous? I mean, everyone knows you have a thing for Kyle."

EJ and his sycophant Kyle rear back in disgust.

"But that could just be me." Harley shrugged, his smirk shifting into an innocent smile. Honestly, they've been at this game since first grade. Harley had dealt with a lot of beings much, much more intimidating than the school's top dog bullies.

EJ actually moves to spit at Harley before revving up his ATV and making a quick exit, his sycophant following right behind him.

Harley watched them go before turning his attention back to Mr. Stark, "You okay now, mechanic?"

He gets another face full of ice for his trouble.

"Your fault. You spazzed me out." Mr. Stark accused, then, "And what was that with that boy?"

Harley shrugged, "That was EJ and his friend Kyle. They like picking on other kids. Anyway, 's not a problem."

"Okay," Mr. Stark took the dismissiveness as it is, "back to business. Where were we? The guy who died. Relatives? Mom? Mrs. Davis, where is she?"

Harley doesn't even really have to think of his response for this one, "Where she always is."

-0-

Mr. Stark told him to go home, but really, what the man didn't know wouldn't hurt him, so Harley stuck around as Mr. Stark made his way to the pub where Mrs. Davis usually spent her time in. Harley had more than enough experience to know that having backup was way better than going alone, especially with Mr. Stark's current circumstance.

So when chaos erupted with the pub as the start of it, Harley was prepared. (His mom was on the other side of town, thankfully.)

And okay, so he wasn't expecting human lava lamps or anything (the universe at large catered to a lot of different creatures, but this is weird because he's on earth), but he managed to distract the man with the gun from aiming properly at Mr. Stark.

Harley hides among the scrambling people, losing sight of the engineer as the man broke into one of the establishments. He cast out his senses, using Magic to keep track of Mr. Stark and the human lava lamp woman, meanwhile following Mr. Bald lava lamp guy as the man leisurely made his way to the water tank.

Realizing the man's aim, Harley apparated to a corner street that hid him from the man's view. Harley was just about to execute a plan of action (kill him, he's going to kill this man who dared harm one of the few touched by Death) against Mr. Bald lava lamp guy when an explosion took his attention away.

A brief check proved that Mr. Stark was alive, but lady lava lamp didn't survive.

And then-

"EJ!"

Harley startles and whipped his head around. He doesn't see anything except trees and the distant shapes of rooftops, but he does hear the familiar sound of the ATV's engine. Mr. Stark was clearly trying to get the attention of the idiot and Harley was torn between going there or simply taking out the threat.

(Why was he hesitating? Hesitation meant punishments but-

It's different now, right? Hesitation isn't punished, but hesitation still meant something bad.)

In the end, Harley cast his Magic to protect Mr. Stark and watched with fascination as the water tank came down, bringing down with it a lot of the flimsy structures as a tidal wave of water doused the surrounding area. It was Mr. Stark who he came here for, after all.

"EJ!" Mr. Stark shouted as soon as everything settled down, finding the man's leg trapped among the debris but thankfully unhurt. "Where you at, kid? If you can hear me, make a noise!"

With his attention elsewhere and breath caught somewhere between an inhale and exhale, Harley was less surprised when he was grabbed by Mr. Bald. He tests the man's grip, finding it strong. Very, very strong actually, which was bad because Harley's very human body was incapable of the great feats of strength required to break away from this grip without maiming anybody or, you know, outing himself as more than human or something.

Mr. Stark didn't have to see Harley ripping out a man's arm. Or burning it, or flaying him alive, or whatever his Magic deemed to be adequate.

(Mr. Stark didn't have to look at Harley with that sinking look of horror and fear and suspicion.)

"Anyway," Harley was manhandled to sit at the lava lamp man's lap. "Hey, kid, what do you like for Christmas?" Harley snarls at the man as whatever it was that powered that heat made itself known.

Harley looks at Mr. Stark whose eyes are wide and horrified and scared. And it's-

No. Focus.

"Mr. Stark," Harley babbled, mind running a mile a minute at what he can do to get out of this without undue violence. "I am so sorry."

"No, no, no," Mr. Bald said, arms gripping tighter. "I think he was trying to say, 'I want my goddamn file.'"

"It's not your fault, kid," Mr. Stark spoke, but Harley didn't believe him. "Remember what I told you about bullies?"

Harley stopped, almost hit himself with that oversight. He nods at the engineer, fished out the stun grenade, aimed it as close to the man's face as possible, and activated it without hesitation. Lava lamp lets go and Harley makes a run for it, hearing the other thing bullies might have meant when Mr. Stark said it.

"You like that, Westworld?"

Harley doesn't hear any more from Mr. Stark as Harley ducked down to where he last felt EJ's presence from the pieces of galvanized iron sheets the other boy was swept to and trapped in.

Harley huffs, "Am I really doing this saving people thing again?"

Nobody answered him, but he dives down anyway.

(He didn't want Mr. Stark to be disappointed.)

He drags the unconscious boy up to the surface, quickly calling an alive and breathing Mr. Stark's attention. Harley is surprised to see Mrs. Davis, but brushes it away when they help him up.

Laying the other boy down on reasonably dry ground, Mrs. Davis quickly tried to perform CPR, but EJ still wasn't breathing.

Mr. Stark blurted out, "Okay, I got an idea." Which really should have triggered the alarm for potentially stupid ideas Harley had developed over time.

Harley watched, blinking as Mr. Stark fiddled with wires and-

And his electromagnet that was attached to his chest.

Need, the presence hissed, important.

"What are you-" Harley was cut off when Mr. Stark puts the reactor down on EJ's chest and touched the wires on it, creating an electrical shock that even Harley felt, and he was sitting a fair foot away.

Mr. Stark does it again even through the obvious pain when EJ still didn't breathe.

Stop.

Harley eyed the man and the freaking hole in his chest.

The third time, Harley charges his Magic alongside it (feels something familiar and then brushing it away), swearing to every supreme being that if this didn't stop now, Harley was just going to have to risk sacrificing one life for another. There's an unbelievable wave of relief that coursed through him when EJ coughed out water and gasped a breath.

But Harley's attention already moved from his schoolmate to the man who had risked his very life for some stupid boy. So when the man suddenly stilled, pale and pained like a major part of his body stopped working, Harley moved quickly, ripping the reactor (an arc reactor?) from Mr. Stark's grip and slipping it back into where it should be.

The wide-eyed look of relief on Mr. Stark's eyes as he playfully knocked Harley's head told him everything he needed to know.

(Harley didn't believe in heroes. He only believed in sacrifices.)

Koalemos - (Κοάλεμος), spirit of stupidity and foolishness

To those unaware, EJ is canon in some alternate version of the script. I added him in because it establishes a lot of things like fleshing out canon!Harley's character background and a better presentation of the dynamics between Tony and Harley. Yes, it kind of made the pacings awkward, but I hope I managed to write it acceptably?

Anyway, I appreciate all of you guys! ⊂(￣▽￣)⊃ thank you for feeding this needy writer.