One final project, one last hurrah in the workshop before Harley had to catch his flight later that evening; that was the plan.
They pulled out the case containing the haptic glove, slipped off the lid, and … stared at a pile of shapeless goo that wobbled a bit at the bottom.
"Mr. Stark?" Peter asked hesitantly. "Is this… the right box?"
Peter tilted the case to show Stark. The clear glob of semi-liquified polymer and silicone slowly slid into the corner like a strange, formerly undiscovered cave slug.
Tony glanced up from his workbench, eyes narrowing as he took in the tragic state of their so-called prototype. He exhaled heavily, rubbing his forehead. "You have got to be kidding me."
Harley, who had been slumped over the counter, suddenly straightened, eyeing the strange, jiggling mass with a bemused expression.
"I really thought this one would stay solid," Stark muttered, approaching the case and rubbing his chin. "That polymer seems to be on an internal timer. The first version I made lasted only twenty-four hours before it melted into goo." He sighed and snapped the case shut. "Well, back to the drawing board."
Peter bit his lip. The idea of a material that decomposed on command was objectively fascinating—but not when they were trying to build something permanent.
"Maybe we can fix it," Peter suggested, glancing at Harley, who was still oddly quiet. "We just need to stabilize the polymer mix."
"That's awfully optimistic." Harley hummed quietly.
Peter hesitated. Harley had been off all day. Even after going out for an early lunch with Pepper, he hadn't returned with his usual boisterous energy. Instead, he'd been distracted, unfocused, lost in his own head.
"Let's compare the two conductive polymers Mr. Stark made and figure out why one lasted longer," Peter said, grabbing a notepad. "Maybe the next batch won't dissolve at all."
"Maybe." Harley sounded perfectly noncommittal, so Peter jotted down everything he remembered from the first night at the compound—the polymers Stark had discussed, their precursor compounds, and how they interacted. PEDOT:PSS, ... some silicone variants? And PPEGMEA… He filled in gaps with his own chemical knowledge, his handwriting becoming more hurried as the pieces started clicking into place.
"It's an air-sensitive reaction," he murmured aloud. "So we need to replace the air in the flask with something that won't interfere with polymerization…" Peter glanced at Stark, who was listening intently while trying not to appear to be doing so. The man nodded but offered Peter no other hints.
Peter frowned. Was this a test?
"We need a Schlenk line," he announced.
Harley blinked, looking up from where he had been idly twirling a screwdriver between his fingers. "A what now?"
Peter paused. Had he said something weird again? He never knew when he was saying something weird.
But instead of looking put off, Harley leaned forward, eyebrows raised in genuine curiosity.
Peter cleared his throat. "It's a technique for handling air-sensitive compounds. You pull a vacuum on the flask and replace the atmosphere with an inert gas, so nothing reacts that shouldn't."
Harley let out a low whistle, grinning. "Okay, Mr. Chemistry Genius. You set up the Schlenk line, because I have no idea how to do that, or even what that looks like. I'll run up to Bruce's lab and grab the reagents."
Peter nodded, still uncertain about Harley's mood but glad he was getting engaged.
Harley scanned Stark's display screen, which showed a list of compounds and concentrations. "Yeah, no, I don't have a head for this sort of thing. FRIDAY, could you print this for me?"
"Happy to oblige, Mr. Keener." FRIDAY responded smoothly. A neatly printed page slid from the nearby printer. Peter gave the chemicals a quick perusal but didn't see any reason why Harley couldn't just memorize the list. Peter had it committed to memory fairly quickly.
Meanwhile, Tony was watching the duo from across the workshop, pretending to work on a damaged gauntlet. Peter was not so unobservant that he couldn't pick up on the frequent glances in their direction, but he chose to ignore the scrutiny. Was the man even planning to help them, or what?
Peter considered the memorized supply printout and started mapping out all the chemical reactions involved. "Do you think it was the electricity? Could that have affected the polymer structure over time?" He looked up at Mr. Stark, who pretended he hadn't been following along.
"Hmm? What? Oh yes, that's a possibility."
Peter rolled his eyes at that level of non-help. After some consideration, he decided he would explore how the polymers handled varying levels of current and voltage.
Harley came back, rolling a little cart of stock solutions and glassware. "Bruce said this was basically what Tony used, but I can go back if you need anything else."
"Looks good. Let's start with that."
The pair worked on the polymerization reactions for the next couple hours, mostly in companionable silence. The lab, usually filled with their back-and-forth chatter, was oddly subdued. Peter focused on the project, but he kept watching Harley from the corner of his eye.
Harley wasn't himself.
He wasn't cracking jokes. Wasn't bouncing ideas around like he usually did. He was focused, but it felt forced, like he was pouring himself into the work to keep from thinking about something else.
Was he nervous about going home?
Harley had seemed so intent on getting back to his mom, Peter thought for sure the teen would be excited to finally be going. But perhaps families were more complicated than that. He certainly had mixed emotions himself, regarding being around the Avengers, and they weren't even family.
Stark finally came out of his corner to take a look at their work. He placed a light hand on each boy's shoulder as he leaned over them to examine several square sample sheets of translucent material. Peter startled at the touch and rubbed his shoulder when Stark quickly released him.
Stark immediately let go, stepping back too casually like he hadn't noticed. The man made no comment about Peter's weird reaction, but Peter saw the way his gaze flickered just slightly, assessing.
"Looks like you two made a lot of progress, but now, we need to get Harley to his flight."
Harley sighed, exhaling long and slow. "At least I can count on Peter to have this all figured out by the time I get back." He shot Peter a smirk, shoving his shoulder lightly. "But don't go building the whole glove without me."
Peter smiled back and rubbed his shoulder again." Text when you get there?"
"Of course."
Harley grabbed his duffel bag—he'd come prepared, ready to work right up until the last possible second. "Is Happy giving me a ride?"
Stark shook his head. "No, buddy. I'll drive you. Gotta squeeze every last second out of you before you disappear again."
Harley rolled his eyes. "You know I'm coming back soon, right? Or else who's gonna take care of Peter?"
Tony swatted at him. "Get out of here, hooligan."
Harley smirked. "Fine. But you better listen to FRIDAY's reminders to feed him." He paused at the door. "See you later, Pete."
Before Peter could react, Harley pulled him into a tight hug with his free arm.
Peter blinked, startled, barely having time to respond before his hand accidentally snagged on Harley's shirt.
Peter blinked, startled, barely having time to respond. He raised his own hand to embrace him back, and somehow it got snagged on Harley's shirt.
"Sorry," Peter muttered, looking at the offending hand that had just barely released from the fabric. "Must have some of the polymer mix still on me."
Harley smiled and leaned forward to ruffle his hair. "I'll miss you, Pete."
Peter nodded and watched the two of them leave. He rubbed at his hand, feeling a residual stickiness, though his skin looked fairly clean. The sensation soon faded and he bent back over the sheets of conductive polymer. He might as well get back to work. Nothing Peter was doing could be considered dangerous, so he was certain FRIDAY wouldn't shut down power to the room or any of the other petty things she would pull when she thought the teens were doing something questionable without supervision.
The Avengers Compound was suddenly too quiet and Peter felt a pang of anxiety. But staying busy would be the best distraction. All he had to do was bury himself in science.
He opened a notes app on his phone and started tapping out the different polymer mixes he wanted to make and test. It would take days, if not weeks of work. Good.
"FRIDAY, can you play some music?"
"What would you like to listen to?"
"I don't know, I guess start with whatever people listened to in the 1950's and work your way slowly through the decades?" Peter didn't care as long as the silence was filled. Maybe he'd even recognize something along the way.
The workshop filled with the sound of Elvis Presley crooning through the speakers, and Peter got to work.