Harley leaned casually against the counter, watching Peter intently as the younger teen hovered over the stove, warming pizza on a skillet, of all things. The boy turned the heat down and placed a lid on top.
"I have no words," Harley said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.
Peter winced, his shoulders tightening, "Am I doing something weird again?"
"Yes," Harley deadpanned, then grinned. "But don't stop. It's weird, but interesting."
Peter sighed, the tension leaving his frame as he turned back to the pizza. "I don't remember how I know this, but you can't just microwave pizza. The crust will be all soggy."
Harley grabbed a cold slice from the open box on the counter and took a bite. "Soggy crust is fine by me. I'm not picky." He waved the half-eaten slice in the air. "I don't even mind it cold."
Peter watched him with a small smile. "Have you considered you might be a heathen?"
"It's been suggested," Harley admitted, unfazed, as he devoured his slice.
When the slices were up to Peter's standards, he turned off the heat. They didn't bother with plates, so maybe Harley was a bit of a heathen, but apparently so was Peter. They both ate the pizza straight off the skillet, huffing their breath to cool their tongues around mouthfuls of molten cheese. The crust was so crispy and perfect, Harley almost groaned.
"Okay, I take it back." Harley said as he snagged the last slice. "I'm never nuking pizza again. What other culinary talents are you hiding?"
Peter wiped his mouth and thought for a moment. "I don't think I know how to cook. I think I warmed up a lot of take-out in the past."
Harley contemplated that. "Hmm, still a useful skill. Especially now that you're staying with Tony. He lives off take-out. I'm pretty sure that's half of Happy's job: glorified private Grubhub delivery. Don't tell him I said that. He'd kill me."
"I've never met him. Are you sure a guy named Happy would murder you over that?"
"You have no idea." Harley said with a grin. "Don't worry, you'll meet him soon and all will become clear."
Peter's brows furrowed as he added more pizza to the skillet. "So, who else am I likely to meet while I'm here besides a scary guy named Happy?"
"Pepper. She's arguably more scary."
Peter's face screwed up in deep recollection. "Pepper Potts? She runs Stark Industries, right? Why would I meet her?"
"She's Tony's girlfriend."
Peter's eyebrows shot up. "Oh."
"Right? She's way out of his league, but I guess opposites attract. You'll probably meet the rest of the Avengers, too. Natasha, Clint, Colonel Rhodes … they're around a lot." Harley hesitated. The more he thought about it, the more he felt he was abandoning Peter. Clint had kids but they never came to the compound. There wasn't really anyone around to hang out with Peter.
"You'll have lots of company." Harley said, more to convince himself than anything, but Peter nodded.
Peter poked at the pizza in silence for a moment, then asked quietly, "Do you think you'll be going home soon?"
The question caught Harley off guard. Peter's tone was carefully neutral, but there was a nervous edge Harley didn't miss. "Maybe in a couple days, if Nat gives the go-ahead," he said. It also depended on whether his mom would be home any time soon. Tony wasn't likely to drop Harley off at an empty house, especially now that the man had developed a newfound sense of responsibility.
Harley's fingers itched to grab his phone and call his mom. She hadn't answered any of the times he had called or texted, but she had left him a couple voicemails to let him know not to worry, that she was having a good time and staying safe. He could tell in her last message that she was drunk, but not scarily so. She'd just been partying, enjoying the impromptu vacation paid for by Tony. She was just having fun. This wasn't like the time she couldn't get out of bed. This was different.
"Do you have to go back to school soon?" Peter's voice broke through Harley's thoughts.
"Nope, still summer," Harley said with a forced smile. He watched Peter's blank expression and felt another pang of sympathy. "You know, summer break? No school during summer?"
"Oh."
Harley remembered his initial assumption that Peter had been homeschooled. He wondered what Hydra education involved. Nothing fun, certainly.
Harley launched into a quick explanation of the school year, "Most high schools start back up in late August. Mine is August 20th this year. I'm supposed to be a senior." Another blank look. "Senior year is the last year of high school. But I got held back when I was little, so I'm just a junior."
Peter nodded along but Harley could tell it was mostly meaningless information to him. That was a little troubling, considering Peter was supposed to have a reasonable grasp of general knowledge, despite his amnesia.
Christ. What kind of life led to Peter knowing how to take apart and rebuild electronics, but not know about summer break? How did he know who Bruce Banner and Pepper Potts were, but not recognize any of the current artists when they turned Sam's speaker back on to test it?
Harley must've been silent too long because Peter was looking nervously self-conscious again. Harley rushed to fill the silence. "In case you didn't realize, I just admitted to being stupid. You can react accordingly."
Peter laughed. "Yeah, right."
"No, seriously. I failed a grade in school. They made me do 1st grade over again."
Peter looked at him quizzically, as if he wasn't sure Harley was joking or not.
"Well, I'm flattered you don't believe me. I'm 17 but I have two more years of high school to go. Tony used to call me 'kindergarten drop-out' until I pretended to cry one time and freaked him out."
Peter brightened momentarily. "Oh, I'm almost 15. Dr. Banner could tell from an X-ray of my fingers and wrist bones. He said there was a 'handy' algorithm for calculating my age and he didn't even acknowledge the pun."
"Cool!" Harley said, genuinely excited for him. "So, we'll have to celebrate your birthday."
Peter's brows drew together thoughtfully. "I guess so."
"We'll have to pick a day."
Peter gave him a flat look. "Even I know birthdays don't work that way."
"Who's going to stop us?"
Peter huffed a laugh. "I guess no one. What day should I pick?"
"Sometime next month, maybe? Pick a number you like."
"Are some numbers more likeable?"
"Come on. Just pick a number between 1 and 31."
Peter gave it some thought. "Ten."
"Okay. August 10th it is." Harley crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, thinking. He could probably swing that. If he gave Tony enough of a heads up, he was sure he could get back to NY for a quick visit.
"So, between now and August 10th you need to have a sufficient list of favorites, or else you're going to be a real pain in the ass to find a present for. It's no fun shopping for an amnesiac."
Peter chuckled again and Harley couldn't help but smile at his reaction.
"Fine, I'll get started on a list. So, what does one normally do on their birthday?" He asked Harley.
"Usually there's a clown, some balloons, a cheerful little donkey you beat with a stick, a cake, a song everyone sings in a different key, and a fire ritual that grants you a single wish."
Peter smirked. "Okay, I know what a pinata is. And I've got to say, it's really unkind to try and confuse someone who has memory loss. Do you also pick on disabled kids for fun?"
"Only the ones I like," Harley replied with an easy smile.
"What a winning way to make friends."
"I think it's just insecurity from being a kindergarten drop-out."
Peter huffed another laugh and Harley felt his chest warm to the sound.
The younger teen narrowed his eyes and looked at Harley. "Wait, so what did you do for your last birthday? Somehow, I doubt a clown was involved."
Harley stilled. His 17th birthday had been tense. His mom had been having a rough week. "Uh, Tony sent me some new computer parts and I built another gaming PC."
Peter gave him a strange look. "So you spent your birthday in your shed?"
"Yeah, you got me, there was no clown." If Harley counted his mom's boyfriend, there was one. "I'm sorry I tried to mislead the memory-challenged."
Peter continued to peer at him strangely, so Harley looked away, glancing at his phone in case there were any missed messages from his mom. He hoped she was doing okay.
Harley's mom was bound to get herself into trouble without him there to watch over her. But she hadn't wanted to come to the compound. Harley couldn't convince her to leave the house at all until Tony suggested paying for her to take a trip out of town. They'd both been eager to get her to agree to leave for a while, for her safety. Harley hadn't considered he might lose track of her.
It made him nervous. She really shouldn't be on her own. And if she was with a boyfriend, that might be even worse. She wasn't known for picking stable, upstanding characters. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Harley had never spent so much time away from his mom except for that time right after his dad left, when she couldn't take care of Harley and he was too little to take care of her…
Peter interrupted his spiraling thoughts with a little nudge and Harley looked over at the younger teen. He held the skillet aloft, offering Harley the last slice. Harley forced a small smile and took it just to have something to do with his mouth. He suddenly didn't feel like talking.
Perhaps Peter sensed the mood shift because he chose that moment to jar Harley out of his thoughts. "I gave Stark a black eye this morning."
Harley choked on the pizza. Unperturbed, Peter filled a glass of water for him at the sink and continued. "I'm sure you guessed as much. I didn't mean to hit him though."
"I'm sure he deserved it." Harley rasped, his throat still somewhat full of inhaled pizza bits.
"He really didn't. He was actually nice." Peter frowned.
"Did the tests not go well? What happened?"
"It was mostly okay." The boy shrugged. "I got spooked near the end. Mr. Stark thinks I might be claustrophobic. I don't know, I think I'm fine in small spaces." He shrugged again.
Harley hummed sympathetically. "I think medical tests make a lot of people nervous."
"A lot of people can't accidentally break someone's bones when they get nervous."
Harley frowned. "You didn't break anyone's bones. Tony is fine."
Peter didn't say anything at all to that, but after a minute he perked up and looked towards the adjoining living room. It was empty, but a few moments later Tony walked in and paused when he spotted them still in the kitchen.
The man smiled and shook his head. "Aren't you done eating by now? We've only got so many hours in the workshop before Harley heads home."
It was like a weight had been lifted off of him and Harley couldn't help but grin. "Mission accomplished?"
Tony nodded. "Natasha says you can go home. Call your mom and let her know. I'll get you back to Rose Hill at the end of the weekend."
Harley jumped up and grabbed his phone. "I'll call her now. Thanks Tony." He darted past Peter, who was looking at the floor with interest. Harley paused, but Tony rushed him out. "Go. We'll wait for you in the workshop."
With a quick nod, Harley took off towards the living quarters. He threw open his door and tossed himself onto the bed, still smiling. He called her and let it ring until her voicemail recording started up. Then, thinking better of it, he hung up and called again and again. Sure enough, after the fifth call, she picked up.
"Mom? Yeah. We can go home."
