Harley and FRIDAY are so much fun to write :)
Happy unceremoniously dropped the mountain of shopping bags in the compound's laundry room, where Pepper quickly got to work cutting tags, washing, drying, folding, and hanging. It was an extremely domestic thing to observe from a high-power CEO. And perhaps Pepper enjoyed it for its novelty, but Peter felt like a complete ass when he couldn't stay to help her.
Pepper took one look at him and waved him off. "Go lie down, Peter. You look like you need a break."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, this will only take a couple hours and then I'll be off. I can tell you've got a headache. Go put a cool cloth on your neck and close your eyes for a bit. That usually does the trick for me. And make sure you tell Tony if you need anything, okay?"
Peter nodded stiffly with pain. "Thank you, Miss Potts."
"It's Pepper. And you're welcome. But It's really no problem at all, I'm happy to help." Pepper rubbed his shoulder and Peter felt himself lean into the touch before he could stop himself.
Pepper's expression softened, but she didn't say anything about it. She just patted him lightly and nudged him toward the hall. "Now, go lie down before your headache gets worse."
Peter reluctantly left her there and made his slow progress to the other side of the compound where his room was. Along the way he kept catching bits and pieces of people's conversations. "...got as far as the doors to the garage. I thought he was going to run off for sure. I don't know if I believe that he heard the kid from that distance, but for whatever reason he decided it was more important to help than escape…"
Further into the compound, Peter heard, "Hey, FRIDAY, where does Tony keep all those extra SIM cards?
In the kitchen he could hear pots and pans, and "Tony isn't doing a terrible job of it so far, but you know how he is. He'll get bored and then where does that leave the kid?"
Peter winced. He really didn't want to hear every little thing happening in the whole compound. He'd much prefer silence right now. But he just couldn't ignore it. He was too tired. The filters in his brain just weren't filtering. The pain was making it impossible to ignore anything, and every voice, every footstep, every rustle of fabric felt too sharp, too loud.
By the time he reached the common room, it was unbearable. The TV blared. People talked over each other. Every single light was on.
Peter focused on breathing and not falling over in front of whichever Avengers might be milling around in the room. He walked a carefully straight line towards the elevator with his eyes partially closed to keep out the light. He had never taken the elevator before in the compound. But he didn't trust himself to climb the stairs just then.
Peter heard a few voices calling after him, but he didn't stop. He was too afraid he would throw up if he had to join a conversation. He just needed to get to a quiet, dark place.
Inside the elevator Peter closed his eyes and drew heavy shaky breaths. "FRIDAY?" Peter whispered.
"Yes, Peter?" FRIDAY whispered back.
"Can… lights…off?" Peter struggled to speak through the mounting pain, but he knew FRIDAY didn't need perfectly articulate sentences to get the meaning of what he needed.
The elevator lights turned off and Peter gave a low moan of relief. The elevator car moved slowly, almost imperceptibly, and Peter realized FRIDAY could even control the rate of its ascent. She was giving him the least jarring ride possible. The doors opened and Peter expected a flood of light, but FRIDAY had anticipated his needs and dimmed the lights through the hall all the way to his room. Peter loved her dearly for that.
He had just collapsed onto the bed with a pillow over his head when there was a knock at the door.
"No." He whispered. Hoping FRIDAY would get the meaning. The door stayed shut and the knocker left.
Peter lay very still in the dark room, trying not to move or do anything else that might further trigger the stabbing pains or nausea. He grasped weakly in his mind for anything that might be helpful, trying to find any little tidbit of information about how to deal with this. Pepper's cool cloth suggestion was worth a try, but he didn't want to get up now that he was down. Breathing exercises popped into his mind, so he did those. He tried to visualize the pain flowing out of his body with each slow, controlled exhalation. It helped a little.
His visitor returned to knock again, and Peter could tell by the footsteps it was Harley.
"Yes," he whispered to FRIDAY, and the door opened to a dim hallway.
"Woah, FRIDAY, way to be creepy." Harley's voice was pitched low, but it was nowhere near the whispering volume that Peter could tolerate.
"I brought you a sandwich." He set the plate down on the side table and sat on the edge of Peter's bed. "Why are we hiding in the dark? Did something happen at the mall?"
Peter sat up in the bed slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements. The change in position from lying to sitting was causing the pressure in his head to intensify but the pain was at least manageable after all the breathing exercises.
"No. Got a headache."
"Oh, sorry." Harley dropped his volume even more. "Want some ibuprofen? Oh wait, your metabolism." Harley rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe a double dose? No, that sounds like a terrible idea." Harley stood up. "I'll get Tony."
"No. I'll be fine. I just need to eat and sleep probably." Peter did not want to bother Stark.
"Okay, try that, but Tony will help you if you need something. You can ask him for help."
Peter sighed. That seemed to be the common sentiment today, that he should reach out to Tony for help. But Peter had been listening in on the conversations of the compound earlier in the day, as he sat waiting for Pepper. He was curious why she was there, and he wanted to know what was happening. He'd just listened a little, but it was enough to overhear Stark's declaration that he'd rather drop Peter off on someone else's doorstep.
Peter didn't blame the guy. He'd been foisted on Mr. Stark against the man's will. Peter knew now that he should try not to bother the man, lest his living situation change abruptly. The Avenger compound wasn't bad, and their security was so lax Peter was sure he could duck out if things went south. He couldn't be sure the next "doorstep" would be as easy to live with.
"It's fine. I'm fine. I don't need help." Peter spoke with as much conviction as his headache allowed.
Harley nodded slowly, looking completely unconvinced.
Peter grabbed the sandwich and took a bite to prove his point. And, surprisingly, the food did help him feel a little better.
"What happened at the mall?"
"It was loud. It gave me a headache." Peter thought about it. "I saved a kid."
Harley's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"There was a lost little kid and I helped him find his mom. It felt… weird. I don't know how to describe it. It was good. I was happy to help him." Peter didn't know why he was sharing this part, but he almost couldn't stop himself now that he started.
"She was so happy and relieved when I gave him to her. It just felt, strange." That was so not the point and it wasn't what he had planned to say when he opened his mouth. Why was he even mentioning this stupid, trivial thing? His own brain had barely made note of the feeling as it was happening.
But Harley just nodded, taking it all in. He studied him quietly for long moments before he spoke. "I don't want to psychoanalyze you… but, have you considered that seeing a lost kid reunite with his family might be hard for you?"
Oh. Peter felt a blush creep up his neck. Could Peter seriously be so childish? That was embarrassing. Was he really jealous of a four year old?
Harley continued, "That's a pretty cool thing you did. I bet his mom was freaking out. Tony lost me once at a tech fair and he freaked, too."
"You knew Stark when you were little?"
Harley smirked. "No, this was a couple years ago."
Peter laughed at that and immediately winced in pain. "Ouch. Stop. You're not allowed to do that if I have a headache."
"Do what?"
"That thing you do, where you make people laugh when they feel like crap."
"You weren't supposed to laugh. That was really insensitive, actually."
Peter shook his head, determined not to even crack a smile. The sandwich was a good distraction, so he worked on finishing that while Harley described Tony's panic when he realized they'd gotten separated. Harley had wandered off to play with magnetic goo at an interactive children's science table, and Tony had to borrow a drone from another group at the fair to find him. Peter honestly couldn't tell which details were true, and that made it all the more difficult not to laugh.
"But wasn't the goo for little kids?"
"Yeah, I had to wait in line behind a group of 3rd graders on a field trip. I don't know how Tony didn't see me. I was at least two feet taller than everyone else around."
Peter stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth as he pictured the absurd, probably completely accurate image.
Harley let Peter finish eating before he pulled out a little package wrapped in notebook paper. "I have to give you one of your birthday presents early."
Peter's eyes widened and he swallowed down the mouthful of sandwich so he could speak. "A birthday present?"
"Yeah, your birthday is coming up, remember?"
Peter remembered, but he hadn't thought it would be taken seriously enough to involve real presents. He took the package and examined it, finally pulling the paper back carefully.
It was a refurbished Starkphone.
"I used parts from some old models Tony still had lying around. It would've been a lot better if we were at the Tower, where they actually develop the phones. I could've snagged some better parts from the R&D lab. But I managed. It works pretty well. I just couldn't fit everything back into the case after I Frankensteined it from so many pieces. So, no Bluetooth capability. And, um, FRIDAY is your mobile virtual network carrier, so don't expect this to work internationally. But I put my number in, and Tony's and Happy's. Happy loves to get text messages, by the way."
"Thank you." Peter was too awestruck to say much else. This wasn't just a phone. It was a lifeline to keep him connected when Harley went back to Tennessee. "This is amazing, Harley. Thank you so much."
"Yep. No problem."
Harley hopped off the bed and left him with strict instructions to text if he needed anything that night, as well as a second reminder that Stark would help him, too.
Peter turned the phone over in his hands for a bit, admiring it and all the time it must've taken to build. Finally he dragged himself from the bed to get that cool washcloth Pepper swore by. He wished that he had thought to grab a pair of pajamas from the stack of laundry she had so carefully prepped in the laundry room. It was fine though, just the promise of his own comfy clothes was good enough for tonight. Peter lay back on the bed with his cloth, got as comfortable as he could, and powered up the phone. "Hey, FRIDAY?"
"Do you need something, Peter?"
"Do you have your own phone number?"
She paused. "No."
"But you could make one, right?"
"I could."
"Would you make one so I can text you?"
"340-906-1501"
Peter smiled as he added the number to his contacts. After a moment of searching, he sent a .gif of a coke with plastic googly eyes on the top. When the tab was pulled it looked like the can was opening its mouth in a big grin.
A second later, FRIDAY sent a .gif of two coke bottles clinking together in a "cheers" gesture, followed by a text that read: "The jinx has been lifted." Peter grinned.
Looking at the screen was starting to make his headache worse, so he closed his eyes and hugged the phone to his chest. It was a comfort he hadn't realized he needed. Peter fell asleep easily for the first time in his short known-existence. He knew the night would be full of vague, shadowy nightmares, but the days were starting to be full of more certainty. There were people - and an AI - who cared enough to make sure he had clothes, that he had enough to eat, and that the lights were dim when he had a headache, and that he would have a way to talk to someone if he needed to. Maybe he could make a run for it, but maybe he wouldn't want to, after all.
