Chapter 6: I need your advice

May's POV:

I sat on my couch watching re-runs of Friends on one of my rare days off. I wished it could've been on a weekend so I could spend time with Peter, but I'd take what I could get. Asking for reduced hours when I'd been watching Harley had resulted in little time off now. It had been worth it, though.

A soft knock on my door sounded, and I groaned, wondering who it could be. I swear, if it's the old man from down the hallway wanting to borrow more Vaseline, I'd just slam the door in his face. I really didn't want to think about why he needed so much.

Opening the door, I was shocked to see Tony standing there, a small smile adorning his face.

Panic instantly hit me, and as he walked in, I immediately asked, "What's wrong? Is Peter okay?" Tony only ever visited when Peter was home, so for him to be here when Peter was at school was a bad sign.

"Woah, woah, settle down May," Tony responded quickly. "Peter is totally fine. Honestly, I'm not here about him at all. I'm actually here because I need some advice."

I blinked, completely caught off guard. This was the last thing I would've expected. What could Tony Stark possibly need advice from me about?

"Um, let's sit down," I replied awkwardly, leading him back towards the family room. I turned off the TV and quickly scanned the room, feeling embarrassment at how messy the room was. With the hours I'd been working, I hadn't really gotten around to cleaning anything. Thankfully, Tony didn't seem to mind, but that was the norm, I guessed. He never seemed to care what the apartment looked like.

"What can I help you with?" I questioned curiously, noting the normally confident billionaire shifting nervously in his seat. Upon closer inspection, I noticed he looked rather stressed, dark circles under his eyes that I had a feeling weren't from late nights in the lab.

"It's Harley," he answered, and I immediately nodded in understanding. I'd met Harley recently when he'd stayed here for a week. Pepper had been away on business and Tony had been on Avengers business, so he'd asked me to watch Harley. I'd taken an instant liking to the teen, his smart mouth and cocky smile reminding me of a certain genius. I'd instantly seen through his 100-watt smile and nonchalant attitude, though. He was hurting.

I'd heard about the teen from Peter when he'd first arrived, but Tony had given me more info when I'd agreed to watch him. My heart had ached terribly at hearing what the boy had suffered through, and I'd promised Tony I'd do whatever I could to help him. He'd had a nightmare while here, but he'd refused to be comforted, and he'd refused to talk. He was good at deflection, and his walls were thick. Behind that façade, though, was a sweet, caring boy, and when he wasn't constantly pretending to be okay, it showed through. Again, I felt reminded of the man sitting next to me.

I still couldn't understand why Tony was here, though. What sort of advice could he need?

"You have a teenage boy," Tony began, and I just raised an eyebrow, causing the man to give a sheepish smile. I couldn't hold back my own smile, unused to seeing him so unsure of himself.

"Okay, you have experience dealing with a kid whose been through hell," he stated, and suddenly everything made sense. "You were there for Peter when his parents died, and then when his uncle died. I know Petey isn't perfect, but he'd doing pretty well considering everything. How did you help him? Because—because I'm floundering here. I've been trying my damndest to help Harley, but nothing seems to work. That kid is suffering, and I feel so freaking useless. I don't know what to do, May, so please, please, any advice you have would be extremely helpful."

I digested his words, feeling touched that he felt I could be of any help, and also pained at how much he was clearly hurting. I understood his feelings very well because I'd felt the same way after Peter's parents died and then after Ben died. I wasn't so sure I could help him, though, because our situations weren't exactly identical.

"Tony," I addressed compassionately, "I'm honored that you've come to me, but I don't know how much I can help you."

The genius's shoulders drooped, a hand running through his unusually messy hair.

"Please, May," he outright begged, "anything you can tell me would be helpful, I swear."

I looked at Tony and couldn't help but marvel at this situation. When this man had first entered my life, I hadn't been impressed. I'd seen the news reels over the years from his drunken playboy days to his iron man days, and none of it had really endeared me to him. In my mind, Tony Stark was an arrogant, spoiled, rich man who felt he could do whatever he wanted. I respected his work as Iron Man and acknowledged that he had saved our lives during the alien invasion, but I also saw his hero work as Stark on a power trip.

When he'd been here to offer Peter the fake scholarship I'd wanted to tell the man no, but I'd known that he was Peter's hero, so I hadn't been able to bring myself to kick him out before Peter got home. Things spiraled, and Peter got an internship (which I now knew was his spidermanning), and my dislike of the man grew as I saw how stressed and worn out Peter was. I hadn't known that my nephew was doing that to himself.

After I found out about Spider-man, I'd gone straight to Stark Tower and demanded to speak with the man. The second he'd shown up I'd punched him square in the face, leaving him with a black eye. I'd torn into him, berating him for endangering Peter's life and dragging him into his fight with Captain America. Tony had taken my lecture silently, and I'd been shocked when instead of having me removed from the property, he'd given me a genuine apology, assuring me that he'd never endanger Peter's life that way again.

When I'd calmed down, he then had explained to me all he was doing to help Peter, such as all the protections in his suits and the training. He gave me a tablet with direct access to Peter's suit schematics and vitals, and while I didn't understand everything, I appreciated how open and honest he was being with me. By the end of the conversation, we'd agreed on weekly phone calls or meetings to discuss Peter. He would update me on Spider-man shenanigans, and I would bring up school.

As time went on, the great Tony Stark became simply Tony, my co-parent, my friend. Tony loved Peter. I could hear that love in his tone and see it in the way he spoke. When I saw him and Peter together, it was so obvious how close the two were, and I was so grateful.

"To be honest," I finally answered, "you are a large reason that Peter is so stable right now. After Ben died, he and I were both a wreck," I recounted mournfully. "He completely shut down, isolating himself in his room for two weeks. He barely spoke, barely ate, and I could tell he wasn't sleeping. I realize now that he was dealing with a lot of guilt, but all I could do for him at the time was the bare minimum. I pushed him to eat and sleep. One day, though, it was like a flip switched and he started to come out of his depression. It was Spiderman," I explained, "but again, I didn't know that at the time. I just thought he was slowly healing."

Tony frowned, his eyes turning sympathetic as he looked at me.

"All I could do was be there for him whenever he needed me, whether it was to talk or just hang out," I continued. "I gave him space, not coming down on him when I realized he was sneaking out at night. He was happy, and somehow I knew he wasn't doing anything bad. When you showed up, things got even better. Peter is like he used to be before Ben died, and I can't thank you enough for that."

Tony's mouth opened and closed a few times before he settled for giving me a small smile. "I'm glad I could help, but I'm not sure how I did that."

"You helped just by being there for him," I replied. "You help him, spend time with him, and encourage him. Anything he needs, you're there for him. That's how you've helped."

The billionaire gave a heavy sigh, leaning back into the couch dejectedly. "Like I said, I'm beyond glad that I've been able to and can continue to help Peter, but none of what I do for him seems to work with Harley. It's been almost two months May, and I've done everything I can think of for him. I thought I was getting through to him, but he's just shut down on me. I can't get him to tell me what's bothering him so much. I've learned a little about what happened after his family died, but not a lot. He's trying so hard to pretend that he's fine, but it's obvious he's not. I've brought up seeing a therapist, but he refuses, and I get that, but at least they're trained to deal with traumatized kids. I sure ain't."

My heart went out to him, his distress hitting me hard. How could I help? What could I say to help ease some of his concern? I wracked my mind for ways of helping when a sudden thought hit me. Tony and Harley were very much alike. Their personalities were nearly identical, and I would've sworn they were related. They shared more than personality, though.

"You lost your parents when you were about the same age as Harley, didn't you?" I asked, and Tony's eyes flashed to mine, looking rather taken aback.

"Uh, yeah," he replied after several moments of silence. "I was sixteen." I barely fought back a grimace. That's how old Peter was now.

"It was a car crash, wasn't it?" I questioned, dim memories of old newsreels hitting me. The Starks deaths had been big news when it'd happened, I recalled, and it'd been in the news for days.

A flash of agony passed through Tony's eyes, and I felt guilt at bringing up what was clearly still a very painful memory. Perhaps he hadn't dealt with his parents' deaths, and me bringing it up wasn't going to help. This was for Harley, though.

"It was murder meant to look like a car accident," he stated hollowly, clearing his throat loudly in an attempt to conceal his emotions.

Silence filled the room as I digested what he'd said. Murder?! That was not a known fact because I definitely would've remembered a tidbit like that. No matter, I told myself. This only made his similarities to Harley that much greater.

"When that happened?" I plodded on. "What helped you?"

Tony gave a harsh laugh at that, his face looking anything but amused.

"Booze," he answered bitterly, "and I guarantee you I've removed every last bit of it from the tower so Harley doesn't try the same thing."

"What else?" I pressed, knowing or maybe hoping he'd tried other methods.

"Women," he then answered, avoiding eye contact in an obvious display of shame.

"Who did you live with?" I then asked, frowning unhappily. This conversation wasn't going in the direction I'd hoped.

"When at college I lived with Rhodey, but if you mean who took me in, the answer is nobody. I was emancipated," he informed me. "My godfather felt I was old enough to take care of myself."

Once again, I was struck silent by his answer, and my heart ached even more for him. I imagined the same thing happening to Peter, and I couldn't stomach the thought of him living alone if something happened to me.

"Is that what you wanted?" I continued delicately, suddenly aware that this was still a very sensitive subject for the man.

"I, uh, I don't know," he replied uncertainly, once again avoiding eye contact. "I didn't really think about it."

"I don't believe that," I asserted, having a strong feeling that I'd just been lied to. I once again felt confident that I was going in the right direction to help Harley. "Take a moment and think back. Think hard, Tony and remember. What did you want after your parents died? What did you feel you really needed? Because, it's obvious from the drinking and sleeping around that you weren't receiving it. All you were doing was drowning away your pain."

Tony blew out a breath through his nose, rubbing both hands over his face as he looked anywhere but at me. He opened his mouth to speak, but anticipating a protest, I simply shot him down with a look.

"I realize this is hard, but do it for Harley," I insisted, and his mouth closed. Leaning back on the couch, he closed his eyes, and I remained silent. I watched the minute changes in his expression and had to stop myself from speaking when I saw the grief and pain on his face. After a couple minutes, I noticed his expression turn to both realization and embarrassment. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up, looking down at his hands.

"I wanted," he began to say hoarsely before pausing to clear his throat. This was clearly something hard for him to admit, and I was pretty sure I knew what he was going to say.

"I wanted someone to want me," he admitted, plastering a fake smile on his face as he reluctantly looked at me.

I felt the sudden urge to hug the billionaire but refrained from doing so. Instead, I stayed silent knowing he wasn't done.

"I wanted someone to care, and to-to tell me everything was going to be okay. I wanted someone to care enough to stop me from destroying my life," he continued, his voice quickening in pace as he released old, buried emotions. "I had living godparents, y'know, and neither one took me in," he told me, his tone full of hurt. "Why?" he asked rhetorically. "I mean, my behavior clearly showed I wasn't ready to be on my own, but nobody stepped up because they didn't care."

Tony paused again, his breaths coming out heavy. "Or, maybe," he spoke in a quiet tone, "maybe they did care, but never told me. Maybe they wanted to help, but just didn't know how." His face turned bitter at this point, and he shook his head. "Well, maybe one of them cared."

"I am so sorry for what you went through," I couldn't keep myself from saying, my hand reaching out to grip one of his. I was relieved when he didn't pull away. Instead, he squeezed my hand back, shooting me an appreciative look.

Clearing his throat again, he asked in a stronger tone, "Anyways, how is any of this supposed to help Harls?"

A snort escaped me, and I shook my head in mild amusement. "For a genius, you can be quite dense sometimes."

"You always have such flattering things to say about me, May," he commented in amusement, a small smile adorning his face.

I laughed, somewhat marveling at how quickly he managed to bounce back.

"Don't you see the similarities between yours and Harley's situations?" I probed, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

I could see the wheels turning in his brilliant brain, noting when he finally made the connection.

"He wants the same thing," he stated, and I nodded back, certain we were both right. I had a feeling the teen was desperate for a place to call home. Desperate to be loved.

"I just figured he knew—I mean, I know I'm not the best at expressing myself, but I just thought…I guess I haven't really told him…Do you think he's worried about me kicking him out?" he mused aloud, and I nodded my head.

"I know there's a large age difference, but Peter was the same way after his parents died," I recounted, recalling how petrified he would get any time he got in trouble. "He was afraid that every time he got into trouble we'd send him away."

"Hm. That definitely sounds like Peter," Tony mumbled with a smile. "Harley hasn't stayed out of trouble, but he's definitely gone out of his way to try and seem like he's fine. It could be because he's afraid of the same thing, that I'll grow tired of him or think he's too much trouble. I remember feeling that way with Rhodey."

We both fell silent, each thinking over the revelations.

"Thank you, May," Tony spoke, looking at me with more gratefulness than I felt I deserved. "I think I know what to do now." He stood up, and I followed suit, caught off guard when he uncharacteristically pulled me in for a hug that I was more than happy to return.

I walked him to the door, and before he stepped out, I felt the need to say, "You're a good man, Tony Stark, and Harley is lucky to have you. I know you'll do right by him."

The normally quick-witted man was obviously struck silent by my praise, and I silently applauded myself for managing to leave him speechless. He eventually settled for nodding, giving me a genuine smile.

I deliberated over what I was going to say next, but after this conversation I felt it needed to be said. "I need you to know that I consider you a part of my family, and I'm here for you if you ever"—

I didn't even finish the words before Tony once more pulled me in for a hug. Two in one day. This had to be a miracle.

"Aw, May, quit it before you turn me into a sobbing mess," the engineer complained, his voice sounding watery.

I chuckled lightly, my arms tightening when he whispered a quiet, yet genuine "thank you".

"Okay, I'm leaving before you say anything else sappy," he declared, gracing me with a handsome grin as he left.

Letting out a soft sigh, I couldn't help but shake my head, marveling at what my life had become. Who would've thought even a year ago that Tony Stark and I would have a conversation like this? Ben would be both floored and amused, I thought in nostalgia, wishing he were here.

Harley's POV:

I lay on my bed, staring up at my ceiling. I always felt pride when I looked at it. One of the first things I'd done when I moved in was painting my walls, and on the ceiling I'd painted the night sky, exactly how it looked in Tennessee. On the walls I painted the forest by my old house, and it was juxtaposed with a painting of the skyline of New York, my new home…or at least my current home. On another wall, I had painted a life-sized Iron Man, which had absolutely enthralled and thrilled Tony.

There were still blank spots on the walls waiting to be filled, but I hadn't had the energy, desire, or inspiration to add anything else. Besides, with how miserable I'd been lately, anything I painted would no doubt be morose and/or macabre.

Being grounded was awful and boring, but at least I wasn't at school. Tomorrow, unfortunately, I'd be back, and I'd have to suffer through two weeks of detention before once more returning to my room. Drawing and reading could only occupy my mind for so long before my thoughts would turn dark.

I couldn't get the image of Mom and Ana's bloodied corpses out of my head. I saw them every night now, and what used to be wide open, unseeing eyes, now looked at me with resentment and anger. It was like they blamed me for what happened and hated me for the situation I was in. I was afraid every night that they'd start talking.

When I wasn't dreaming about my murdered family, I dreamed of the cruel, uncaring, judgmental faces of the people I'd met in foster care, on the streets, and even Stark Tower when I'd first arrived. All of them said I wasn't good enough. That I didn't deserve to be loved or cared for. That nobody wanted me. That I was a burden and should just leave.

I constantly felt sick to my stomach, and could barely stomach down food, a fact that had garnered concerned looks from Tony and Pepper.

I was absolutely miserable, and I had never felt more alone. I constantly felt like crying, but I stubbornly held the tears at bay, berating myself for being so weak. No wonder Tony didn't want me around. I was a mess, and I had obviously failed spectacularly at hiding it.

I'd heard Tony telling Pepper that child services was going to make a visit soon, and I knew my days were numbered. They were going to take me away. They'd finally grown tired of my bullshit, and I had no one to blame but myself.

The urge to cry hit me strongly, and I couldn't stop a few tears from leaking down my face. I wiped them away furiously, glaring up at the ceiling now as if it were at fault for my emotional state.

I was pathetic. I was a burden. Nobody wanted me, and why should they? I was worthless.

My heart hurt so badly, and I reached a hand, placing it above my heart and pressing it against my chest in a stupid attempt to stem the pain.

It's emotional pain, idiot. Pushing on your chest isn't going to make it go away.

Stupid.

So fucking stupid.

God, I was tired, so freaking tired, but I didn't want to sleep. My eyes felt heavy, though, and maybe tonight I wouldn't have nightmares. Maybe I was so exhausted that I'd have no dreams.

I shut my eyes, tears dripping down onto my pillow. This time I didn't wipe them away. I just lay there and eventually cried myself to sleep.

Tony's POV:

After leaving May's, I'd had to rush to a meeting regarding the Accords. It had gone on far longer than anybody had wanted, so I didn't arrive home until around 8PM. Pepper greeted me with a kiss and a concerned look.

"He's getting worse," she spoke, sounding as helpless as I'd felt earlier. "He looks so down, absolutely exhausted, and he's barely eating. These are all signs of depression, Tony, and I'm afraid if something doesn't change soon, that he might hurt himself."

My blood ran cold at that thought, and I rushed to assure her that we would fix this. I filled her in on my conversation with May, and after overcoming her shock, I saw the first signs of hope.

"You think you can do this?" Pep asked softly, her arms wrapped around my neck.

"I'd do anything for him," I answered seriously, and Pepper graced me with a loving look before leaning her forehead against mine. We soaked in comfort from each other, and when we broke apart I promptly asked Friday what Harley was up to. There was no time like the present to talk with him, I thought nervously.

"Mr. Keener is currently sleeping," Friday replied, and Pepper and I shared a look of surprise.

"I'll go check on him," I stated, giving my fiancé a kiss before heading to Harley's room.

I slowly opened the door, not wanting to wake him. The lights were still on, and he was still fully dressed, shoes and all. Shaking my head, I gently removed his shoes before throwing a blanket over him. It was then that I noticed the dried tear tracks on his face.

Oh, kiddo, I thought sadly, my heart aching at the sight. Don't worry, I swear I'll make everything better. I won't let you suffer alone.

Giving my suffering boy one last look, I left the room, more determined than ever to make things right.