A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, they mean the world to me!
Again, I have to repeat that there will be no discipline in this story.
Also, it is my plan for Harley and Peter to eventually become friends, but it won't be for a while.
Chapter 4: You are not okay
Harley's POV:
I stared up at the hell hole called Midtown School of Science and Technology. I'd been here briefly last week to take the entrance exam, which had been a breeze, and to pick up my schedule. Today, unfortunately was my first day as a sophomore…a measly sophomore. I'd attempted to convince Tony to let me go in as a senior or at least a junior like Peter, but the normally lax mechanic had taken a firm stand on me being amongst kids my own age.
What a load of bullshit, I couldn't help but think snidely, seeing as the man had been a sophomore at MIT at my age. I'd brought that up, but Tony had replied that his experiences were the reason he didn't want to allow me to jump ahead. When I'd probed for those experiences, however, the old man had clammed up.
So, he wants me to talk, but not him? Trust goes both ways, Mr. Know-it-all.
I let out a sigh, watching other students arrive and greet each other enthusiastically. Anxiety hit me at the massive number of people, and I gripped onto my backpack tightly. School had rarely been fun for me. I'd make friends and then I'd lose them because of bullies. Nobody ever wanted to hang out with the kid being hounded by EJ and his idiot thugs. I'd finally been able to convince Mom to let me homeschool myself when I started high school, and that'd been a huge relief. Now, though, Tony was sending me back to this torture.
I gritted my teeth and headed into the cheerfully decorated building, making eye contact with no one as I headed towards my first class. The bell rang just as I arrived, so I quickly introduced myself to the teacher, sitting down towards the back just as the last bell rang. I noticed curious looks from many of the students, but I just ignored them. My plan was to remain quiet and unnoticed. No speaking unless called upon by a teacher, and no interactions with other students. Less chance of people realizing how screwed up I was.
My first three classes of the day went by uneventfully, but the fourth class I ended up having in common with Peter and his best friend Ned. It was advanced chemistry, and I felt a little bit of excitement, hoping we'd get to do some cool chemical mixtures. Looking at the available equipment and chemicals, though, that flicker of excitement was squashed. They had more than my old high school, that was for sure, but I had access to more in my old lab and Tony's lab. This was going to suck.
"Hey, Harley," Peter greeted cheerfully, sitting himself down next to me. "This is Ned," he gestured to the darker skinned teen next to him.
I gave him a head nod in greeting before attempting to block them out, but luck wasn't on my side. I didn't think Peter realized yet that I wasn't his biggest fan. Had I been hiding it from him? No. Yes. Maybe. Okay, I guess I hadn't really been overt in my dislike. I didn't want to alienate Tony's pseudo-son, and risk Tony kicking me out.
But, god, I just couldn't stand the teen! Maybe it wasn't fair. Okay, I knew it wasn't fair, but Tony was my mentor before his.
Maybe if he wasn't so damn perfect, I wouldn't dislike him so much. He was smart, funny, nice, and a freaking superhero. It was like Tony went out and found a younger version of himself. Why would he want me when he could have Peter?
I was nothing but trouble. I could tell Tony was stressed about me. For some reason he always wanted to talk which was weird cuz Tony had never been the talking, touchy-feely type. I didn't know why he wanted me to talk so badly. What did he want me to tell him? Did he really want to know details about what I'd been through? Why? What would it change?
Was he just looking to get answers for child services? Did the put him up to this?
What if I did talk and he didn't like what I said? What if he felt I was too much to handle? Too broken? Too needy?
I was doing the best I could to be as easy going as possible, but it was hard when he kept pushing. I didn't want to be a stressor. I didn't want Tony to be worried about me. I just wanted for things to be like they were. I wanted it to be just the two of us working and hanging out.
That was a stupid, childish thought. I knew that, but I still clung to some hope that things would get better.
What's better, though?
"Harley," a voice called, pulling me from my thoughts, "do you wanna join our group for the project?"
I turned to see both Peter and Ned looking at me expectantly. Oh man, they can't be serious. Looking around the classroom, I noticed students rushing around, eager to be in a group with their friends.
Peter whistled and then waved a hand in front of my face, giving me a look of concern.
"You alright?" he asked with furrowed brows.
"Yeah, Parker, I'm fine," I answered, letting out a huff. "Do we need to be in groups cuz I work better alone," I asked.
Peter nodded his head, so I withheld a sigh before agreeing to join his group. It didn't look like there were any more groups available, anyways. Just my luck.
Grumbling internally, the three of us put our desks together and began to plan out the project; or, well, Peter and Ned began to plan and I just nodded along.
"We can use the lab at Stark Tower to perform the experiment. Mr. Stark won't mind," Peter stated, and Ned practically gushed at the idea. I raised an eyebrow at the teen, which caused him to blush.
"Sorry, I know you live there and stuff, so it's no big deal, but I've always wanted to go and never been, and oh, this is going to be so awesome!" Ned exclaimed, garnering the attention of many of our classmates. One, uppity looking kid in particular seemed attentive as he turned his whole body towards us.
"Did I hear right when you said the new kid here is actually living with Stark?" the guy asked disbelievingly.
"You heard right," I answered, "I'm living with Tony. He's my guardian."
"Bullshit!" the guy scoffed, giving a loud, fake laugh that gained more of our classmates' attention. A quick glance around showed the teacher deeply engrossed with a group on the other side of the room. Typical.
"Go away, Flash," Peter told the boy wearily, and I gave a snort of amusement.
"Your name is Flash? For reals?" I questioned, causing Flash to glare at me.
"Yeah, it is. What's your name?" Flashed asked, his chin jutting up.
"Harley," I replied, and Flash gave another loud, fake laugh.
"And you're making fun of my name?" he asked rhetorically, eliciting a few chuckles from his no-doubt-idiot friends.
"Damn, you sure know how to pick 'em, Penis," Flash remarked with a sneer, and I raised an eyebrow at the childish name-calling. "You lie about having some internship with Stark, and now this kid claims Tony Stark is his actual guardian. Are you really that desperate to be liked, Newbie?" he addressed me.
I glared heatedly at Flash, understanding now that he was this dumb school's resident bully; and I'd already attracted his attention before my first day had ended. Fan-fucking-tastic.
"I'm not lying," I retorted firmly, "so keep your stupid opinion to yourself. Just because you're clearly not smart enough to get Tony's attention, doesn't mean you should bad mouth us to make yourself feel better."
Laughs filled room, kids seeming to delight in my response. The laughs finally gained the teacher's attention, thankfully, and she quickly got everyone focusing on their projects, or at least pretending to work on their projects. Flash, the douchebag kept glaring over at us, which let me know I had a new bully to worry about. Just like old times, I thought sarcastically.
Class ended and I headed to lunch. The food tasted just as crappy as my old school, but whatever. I attempted to sit by myself, but Peter once again thwarted me, introducing me to his girlfriend, Michelle or MJ.
Great, perfect Peter even had a girlfriend. Of course, he did.
A badass, scary girlfriend, I thought, as I attempted to avoid her intelligent eyes. I had a feeling she knew I wasn't a fan of her beloved boyfriend.
Lunch ended, and I eventually made it to my last class, PE. Walking into the locker room, I groaned internally at noting Flash was also in this class. I quickly got dressed and out of the room, not wanting to get hassled.
PE was as terrible as ever. If it was individual stuff, like running or push-ups, I did fine, but team sports were a pain because I just didn't work well with others. Today we were playing basketball, and I ended up on Flash's team. I decided to stay out of everyone's way, allowing Flash to lead the team and show off his skills. Well, skills was a stretch. The guy knew how to play, but I wouldn't have said he was any good. He was just aggressive, and most kids felt it was safer to get out of his way, like me. It was no surprise when our team won. Nor was it a surprise when he began to boast about his supposed skills, greatness, and yada yada yada.
The change out bell rang, and I let out a huge sigh of relief that the wretched day was over. I should've known better.
I was pulling my shirt on when I was suddenly shoved back into my locker. I grunted out in pain before glaring at Flash.
Really? Was this really happening? I couldn't manage one day at a new school without getting bullied?
"Oops, sorry Harley, didn't see you there," Flash remarked with a smirk as he watched me pick myself up.
"So, did Penis give you this Tony Stark idea or are you just desperate for friends, because I gotta warn you, that Parker and his friends are a bunch of losers," Flash explained. "You don't want to go hanging out with them, unless, of course, you're as much of a loser as they are."
I shook my head in disbelief at this guy. He didn't even know me and he was already judging.
"Peter didn't give me any ideas," I retorted angrily, not liking how he was bullying him as well. I couldn't understand why Peter hadn't done something about this yet. He was a freaking superhero for crying out loud. Why would he let some juvenile bully like Flash walk all over him when Peter could kick his ass with one arm tied behind his back?
"I met Tony years ago," I told Flash. "I recently became an orphan, so he took me in." Hopefully, he'd feel some pity and just leave me alone.
"Orphan?" the jerk scoffed. "Well, now it makes sense. You're in some home where nobody wants you, so you come up with some stupid story about Iron man adopting you. That's pretty pathetic, and no ones going to believe you, so you might as well give it up."
I clenched my fists at his words, the part of nobody wanting me hitting me harder than I'd like. Why did this have to be happening? I just wanted to go home.
"I'm not lying," I declared through gritted teeth, "and you don't know a damn thing about me. Tony is my guardian, and it's you who is the pathetic one. You're so insecure that you rush to put down anyone who might be better than you. You don't even know me, yet here you are hassling me because Tony Stark decided to adopt me. Yeah, I'm real lucky," I exclaimed sarcastically. "My family was murdered, but hey, at least I'm living with a billionaire."
Flash and I glared at each other, and I felt my rage building. I wasn't going to let anyone bully me, not anymore. I'd long since learned that rolling over and ignoring bullies never changed anything. Fighting back, however, at least left me with my pride intact.
"Did you just call me pathetic?" Flash hissed as he got into my face.
"Back off," I growled, pushing the taller boy away from me. He pushed me back hard right into the lockers, and my shoulder flared up painfully.
"Or what?" Flash drawled as he got back into my face.
Screw this, I thought, and without another thought I pulled back my fist and punched Flash with everything I had, hearing a satisfying crunch and yell as the other boy fell to the ground.
"My nose!" Flash yelped, both hands cupping the broken appendage. His glare darkened before he launched himself at me. Cheers echoed around the room as we both tussled, and I landed more punches than I received, my mere weeks of training with Natasha paying off. When we were finally pulled apart by irate teachers, I smirked at seeing Flash's bloodied face.
"Yeah," I gasped heavily, glaring hatefully at the bully, "I did call you pathetic, and I stand by it. Diss me again, and you'll end up with more than a broken nose," I threatened before being roughly hauled out of the room.
Tony's POV:
Fighting on his first day of school. What the hell, I thought wearily as I walked into the office. Peter had told me everything had seemed fine, so what could have possibly happened between lunch and the end of school for Harley to have gotten into a fist fight?
"Are you here for Peter Parker?" the secretary asked, and I shook my head negatively.
"No, I'm here for another kid, Harley Keener," I explained. "I'm his guardian."
She nodded in understanding, thankfully not questioning the weirdness of me being marked as a guardian for two boys with different last names.
"Hey, Tony," I heard, and I looked to my right to see Harley gracing me with a sheepish grin. I rushed over, immediately taking stock of his injuries. His cheek was bruised, and his lip split, but otherwise he looked alright.
"You injured anywhere else?" I asked concernedly, and he shook his head negatively.
"You should see the other guy," the kid had the gall to boast, and I narrowed my eyes. The principal's office opened at that point, and I immediately recognized the boy Harley had fought with. It was Flash, the kid who was always bullying Peter (and who Peter wouldn't let me threaten). He looked to have a broken nose, a black eye, and busted lip. Harley did that?
"Hey, Flash, look who it is," Harley called out cheerfully as he gestured to me. "It's my guardian, y'know? The one you said didn't exist. Recognize him?"
Flash's eyes landed on me, and they widened fearfully. I frowned but refrained from tearing into him.
"Stark, that little shithead belongs to you?" a man suddenly snarled, getting right up into my face.
"Mr. Thompson!" the principal shouted, sounding rather appalled. Okay, idiot man is father to idiot son.
"If your charity case ever thinks of laying a hand on my son again"—the man started to threaten, his finger actually poking me in the chest. I deftly grabbed it, twisted it, and caused the irate man to sink to his knees in pain.
"Mr. Thompson, I'm going to let your measly attempt at a threat slide, but what I won't let slide are your disrespectful words about my kid," I spoke calmly, never once loosening my painful grasp on the man's hand. "So, here's what's going to happen. You're going to apologize, and you're going to mean it," I ordered, my grip tightening when it looked like the man wanted to protest. "Then, you're going to have a heart to heart with your son about staying away from Harley and Peter. If he finds that too difficult, and I hear that he's bullying my kids again, then you and I are going to have another chat," I threatened, my tone turning cold, "and next time I won't be so civil."
I released my hold, and the man rose to his feet, red-faced and out of breath. Giving him a pointed look, I turned my gaze to Harley before back to him. Clearing his throat noisily, and looking furious, the man turned towards Harley and gave a half-hearted apology. Honestly, it was probably a quarter-hearted, but I let it go.
Mr. Thompson looked at me once more, fury clear in his eyes, and I stared back. It didn't take long for the man to look away, grab hold of his son and storm out of the school.
"Holy shit, that was the coolest thing I've ever seen," Harley crowed, looking absolutely delighted.
"Language," I scolded, inwardly cringing at sounding like Cap.
Harley rolled his eyes at me, and I had to resist the urge to smack the kid upside the head.
"Mr. Stark, how about we discuss what happened in my office," the principal ordered more than suggested, and the teen and I dutifully went on in.
I let the principal lead the conversation, prodding Harley to get him to speak when it was his turn. Disappointment hit me when he recounted that he'd thrown the first punch, but I refrained from scolding him here. When it came to punishment, I argued in Harley's defense, claiming it was his first day and that he was going through a rough patch. My words worked enough to drop his 3-day suspension down to 2 days. A glance at Harley showed he didn't seem to care, and I felt further disappointment. Did this kid purposefully get in trouble?
We left the school and started to drive home, neither one of us speaking.
"You mad?" Harley asked ten minutes into the silence.
I pursed my lips, unsure of how to answer. "Yes…no—you know what," I declared, "it's time for us to talk. Friday, take control and drive us around the city until I tell you otherwise. Accept no calls unless it's an emergency and text Pep that the kid and I are talking so we'll be home late," I ordered, taking my hands off the wheel and turning my body towards Harley.
"W-what do you want to talk to me about?" he asked in obvious nervousness, and I took in a deep breath, readying myself for this conversation. This was going to happen one way or another, and the kid had no way of escaping this conversation. We'd drive around for as long as needed.
"You," I answered bluntly. "I want to talk to you, and I want nothing but honesty. No more evasion and no more denials. Friday will drive us around until you're due back at school if necessary," I threatened, somewhat exaggeratedly.
"Bullshit!" Harley exclaimed angrily.
"Language!" I snapped back sternly, causing him to give a short laugh.
"Really?" He asked in surprise.
"Yes, really," I replied firmly. "You need to watch your mouth. You're a genius, kid, so I think you're more than capable of expressing yourself without cursing. That clear?"
Harley's brows furrowed like he wasn't sure I was being serious, but when I repeated my question, he nodded. "Yeah, we're clear. Jeez, Tony, I had no idea language was such an issue with you. It never has been before."
I let out a sigh, not believing that we were having an argument about this when there were so many more important things I wanted to discuss with him.
"Well, I wasn't your guardian before," I asserted, and that seemed to startle the teen because he snapped his mouth shut. I took advantage of his silence to continue speaking. "Look, Harls, I don't want to fight or argue with you, but I need you to talk to me. I know you're not okay," I stated, waving a hand to cut the boy off when he opened his mouth to speak.
"You're not okay," I repeated, "and that's okay. You've been through hell, and nobody expects you to be fine, least of all me. Do you hear me, bud? It's okay not to be okay."
Harley's eyes were full of emotion as he processed what I said, and while I was glad he was finally listening, I hated the pain I saw. He had to talk, though. He couldn't keep things bottled up anymore.
Harley began to nod his head, looking down before looking back at me. "Talking won't change what happened," he whispered, his voice strained with emotion.
"It won't," I agreed softly, "but it helps to share the burden. I know talking about whatever happened hurts but bottling it up will make things worse. You can't tell me you're actually happy. I know you're not sleeping. Friday tells me that you wake up from nightmares, and that you order her not to tell us. You throw yourself into everything you do, whether its tech work or training with Nat because you're trying to distract yourself. Your temper is simmering, and you've snapped at everybody. Hell, I know Flash is a jerk, but from what I heard, that idiot didn't deserve the beat down you gave him."
I fell silent, allowing Harley time to think over what I said. When he finally managed to look at me once more, my heart ached at the tears I saw welling up in his eyes.
"It hurts," he admitted, his hand going up to his chest. "It's like I've got this balloon inside of me, and it's just seconds away from popping, and if that happens, I'm so afraid that I'll fall apart and never be okay again."
"That balloon is all your emotions waiting to come out, and it's perfectly normal," I explained calmly. "Falling apart is expected."
Harley shook his head at that, looking seconds away from bursting into tears, so I reached out and placed a comforting hand on his forearm.
"Falling apart is not a bad thing. It's actually healthy, and nothing to be embarrassed about," I told him kindly.
"But what if I can't be fixed?" he asked in a small voice.
"Kiddo, there is nothing wrong with you," I stated in a firm tone. "You've been through several traumatic events, and like I said before, it's not just normal, but expected for you to not be okay."
"But if I fall apart I'll be broken, and what if I can't be put back together?" he insisted in a watery tone.
"Harls," I spoke softly, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, "if you fall apart or break, then I will be there to put you back together. I'm a mechanic, remember?"
Harley gave a small smile at that, giving a loud sniff as a tear finally fell down his cheek. I gently wiped the tear away, saddened yet relieved at the display of emotion. Harley hadn't cried once since he'd arrived, and that had concerned me deeply.
"Tony," the boy called, sounding desperate, "I just want to be okay. I want to be normal like before. I'm so tired of hurting, of being angry, of not sleeping, and…and I just-I just-I just…" Harley gripped onto my arm tightly and began to lean towards me. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him in for a tight hug. This was the first time I'd hugged Harley since he'd arrived, and I relished in being able to provide this kid with any amount of comfort.
He seemed to relax in my arms, one of his hands grabbing onto my jacket. He didn't cry, but I could hear the shuddering breaths that he was taking. He was still holding things in, but I was okay with that. This was progress.
I reluctantly let go when he began to pull away, but I kept a hold of him anyways, one of my hands on his left shoulder.
"It's going to take time, but you will be okay again," I assured him with confidence. "You're not broken or unfixable. You've been through hell, you're suffering, and I'm going to help you through this…but, I need you to cooperate with me for that to happen," I added gently. "Talk to me, buddy," I pleaded earnestly.
I watched my kid's face closely, watching a myriad of emotions cross his face. He was struggling to open up. He wanted so badly to be strong and independent, but he didn't realize that being strong didn't mean doing things alone.
"Please don't make me talk right now, Tony," Harley begged. "I admit that I'm not okay, and maybe I need help, but I just…I just can't talk right now."
"Harley," I sighed sadly, wishing I could just let this go, but knowing he needed to talk. "You need to talk to someone. The time for waiting is over. If you don't want to talk to me, then talk to Pepper, or I can set you up with a therapist."
Harley shook his head rapidly, and I withheld another sad sigh. I had to stand firm. I had to get this kid to talk, or he'd just continue to spiral downwards.
The teen gave a groan that turned into a whimper, his eyes shutting tight as he no doubt struggled to hold back emotions. Damn, I swear the more time I spent with this boy, the more I realized how much like me he was.
"I'm so tired," Harls finally stated, and I gave a sympathetic nod. "I keep dreaming about my mom and sister, how they died, and how I found them. They must've been so scared," he whispered, his tone haunted. "What if they suffered? The doctors wouldn't tell me anything, and I have no idea if they died fast or slow. All I remember is how cold their bodies felt…and the blood…the blood was everywhere. It was on my hands, it soaked into my jeans, and the smell was overpowering—like a copper, metal smell. How can I make these memories go away?" he asked, a desperate tinge to his tone.
My mind raced with what I could possibly say, but I couldn't come up with a single thing that would help. Yeah, I knew talking helped, but I was cursing myself for not having fully thought this through. What could I say to make those nightmares go away? Because, honestly, I knew they'd never disappear. They might decrease in number, but I couldn't take away the horror he'd seen.
Opening my mouth, all I could manage to say was, "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, bud. It never should've happened, and you never should've had to deal with it alone. You have no idea how badly I wished I could've been there for you."
A few tears fell down his cheeks as he nodded, and once more I pulled the boy in for a hug, wishing there was more I could do.
"What can I do to help? What do you need from me?" I questioned, desperate to soothe his pain.
Harley shrugged, so I just tightened my hold, hesitating briefly before placing a light kiss to his temple.
"Can we please just go home, Tony?" the teen asked, and I immediately agreed, unable to force him to talk anymore.
"Sure, bud," I replied before instructing Friday to drive home. The ride home was silent, and I periodically eyed the despondent kid. He looked exhausted, his head leaning against the window. I thought of broaching the topic of him seeing a therapist, but I already knew he'd turn me down, his temper no doubt making a show if I pushed. It's how I would've reacted a few years back. I mulled over how to help, but nothing came to mind, and I hated the helplessness I felt.
What the hell was I thinking? How in god's name was I going to take care of a traumatized teen when I myself was a mess? A part of me wondered if I should let child services take him. Maybe he'd end up with a family better suited to helping him.
He'd run from three separate foster families, though. Stupid! There had to be a reason he ran, and how could I expect some stranger to be able to help Harley?
We arrived home, and as we rode the elevator up, I decided to speak.
"Thank you for talking with me," I spoke honestly. "I really appreciate you trusting me with this. I know there's still more to talk about, and I'm not pushing you today, but know that this discussion isn't over."
Harley grimaced, looking down at the floor, his shoulders drooping.
"Hey, I'm not doing this to make your life miserable," I assured him, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Believe me when I say I'm doing all this for your own good. I'm just looking to help you."
"I know," he replied hoarsely, and I patted his shoulder before dropping the subject.
"Oh, one more thing, Gizmo," I had to add on a lighter note as we stepped out of the elevator, "I'm going to let today's fight go, but I won't be so forgiving next time, you hear me? I'd understand if you were just defending yourself, but I don't ever want to hear about you starting another fight."
A light blush colored the teen's cheeks, and he gave me an apologetic look as he nodded his head. "Yeah, I understand, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
I smiled, letting him know I believed him.
"You were pretty badass, y'know," I complimented. "I take it Nat's training has paid off?"
Harley gave a light laugh. "Yeah, it has. Pretty sure Flash will think twice before picking a fight with me. You were badass too, Tony. I thought Flash's dad was going to wet himself."
I smirked. "Well, no one messes with my kids."
Pepper arrived soon after, and she pulled Harley into a hug, eliciting the first real smile of the day. Maybe she'd have better luck getting him to talk, I thought hopefully. All I knew was that I needed help because there was no way I'd be able to help the hurting teen on my own.