Chapter Text
Harley was technically grounded.
Pepper hadn’t given him a long speech or anything - just told him she appreciated the apology, but actions had consequences. That she wasn’t punishing him for showing emotions, but for how he did it - and, mostly, for disappearing into New York for half the night without so much as a text.
Since Gene was out of town and Harley didn’t really have anyone else to hang out with in the city, the grounding wasn’t social - it was digital. No console, no TV, and a strict limit on phone and computer usage: one hour a day, tops.
Harley had a feeling Pepper already regretted it.
Mostly because he’d taken to showing up at her office more often than usual, just to prove their relationship was fine - that she wasn’t still mad. He didn’t say that, obviously. But he figured she knew. Or at least suspected.
That day, he’d been hanging around for hours.
Partly because Happy had warned him, in no uncertain terms, that if anyone in the building so much as mentioned skaters again - even if it wasn’t Harley - he’d lose his skateboard permanently. So Harley was laying low. Pepper’s office was neutral territory.
She was typing furiously, the way people did when they were trying to finish three things at once and couldn’t focus on any of them. Her eyes kept darting between two monitors and a notebook full of notes and tabs and stress.
Harley was draped across the couch she kept in the corner - one half of his face mashed into a throw pillow, one arm stretched toward the floor, and both legs thrown up over the backrest like gravity didn’t apply.
He sighed. Loudly.
Pepper didn’t look up, but she did roll her shoulders and shift in her seat, then went right back to typing.
Harley sighed again. Louder.
“You do realize increasing the volume of your sighs doesn’t actually make time move faster,” she said, distracted.
“Are you sure?” he mumbled into the pillow. “It might.”
“Still doesn’t.”
She clicked something with her brow furrowed like the software had just personally insulted her.
Harley groaned and rolled dramatically onto his back, making sure to add an extra grunt for flair.
“I think my cactus might be dead,” he announced solemnly.
“The new one?” Pepper asked, barely flicking her eyes away from the screen.
“No, one of the originals,” he sighed again, this time for the cactus. “It was part of the founding trio.”
“So that’s what - the third this month?”
“Technically the fourth,” Harley said. “If you count the succulent that died the day I opened the box. Which is kind of on me, I guess. I thought the package was a blanket so I didn’t open it right away.”
Pepper gave him a long-suffering glance over the top of her screen. “Do you want another one?”
“I dunno,” Harley flopped one hand over his eyes. “Maybe I just wasn’t meant to care for living things.”
“You’re fifteen,” Pepper said, leaning back in her chair. “And it’s a cactus.”
“Exactly,” Harley pointed. “My frontal lobe isn’t even fully developed yet.”
Pepper just shook her head and turned back to her work.
Harley watched her a second longer, then rolled onto his side again, blowing his cheeks out and letting the air puff out of his mouth in slow, ridiculous bursts.
“You got any snacks?” he asked, a little more animated.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Second drawer,” she muttered. “There’s probably a granola bar.”
Harley slid off the couch like gravity had suddenly remembered him, dragging his feet and waving his arms dramatically as he made his way to her desk. The second drawer was a strange mix of things - folders, mints, backup charger, and…
“Ugh. Raisins?”
“You’re welcome,” Pepper said, deleting something aggressively.
Harley picked up the granola bar, turned it over in his hands a couple of times, then set it gently beside her laptop.
“A sacrifice,” he said solemnly. “In honor of your patience.”
“How generous,” she said dryly, not looking up.
Harley wandered back to the couch and flopped down again - this time curling up on his side, facing her. Watching her work.
He didn’t mind being here.
“Do you think Happy mentioned the skateboard thing to you?”
“I think Happy mentions a lot of things to me,” Pepper said without looking up.
“Okay, yeah, but like-was he mad-mad? Or was he more like... proud-mad?”
Pepper raised an eyebrow, as if weighing the phrase, but her eyes stayed on the screen.
“Is ‘proud-mad’ even a real thing?”
“Obviously,” Harley said, mildly offended. “It’s when someone thinks something was reckless, but also kinda awesome. But, y’know, they’re not supposed to say it out loud because they’re the adult.”
Pepper paused her typing for half a second, then nodded slowly, like the logic had somehow convinced her.
“In that case, yes. Probably proud-mad.”
Harley grinned, satisfied, and turned his attention to the sky outside the window, where a plane was crawling across the clouds.
“I think William’s still in my room,” he sighed.
“William?”
“The cactus. May he rest in peace,” Harley said solemnly.
Pepper made a noise - half a breath, half a laugh - like she was trying not to actually laugh. Harley took that as a win. Getting her to laugh when he wasn’t even really trying was better than getting her to laugh on purpose.
“Want me to send someone to take care of him?”
“What? No,” Harley said, scandalized. “I’ll give him a proper funeral. Someday. A real respectful one. Toilet flush and everything.”
“Touching,” she said dryly.
For a while, Harley let her work in peace.
She typed. He just… existed nearby. It was kind of nice. Kind of grounding. Good to know Pepper was still Pepper.
“It’s cold in here,” he said after a few minutes.
“You could always go outside, you know,” Pepper replied, still not looking away from her phone now.
“It’s hot and crowded out there,” he groaned.
“You just said you were cold,” she pointed out, rolling her eyes.
There was a beat of silence.
“There should be a blanket behind the chair,” she added finally, giving him a quick glance filled with mock pity.
“Too far,” Harley said without moving.
Pepper rolled her eyes again, but didn’t move either.
“You don’t wanna ditch your next meeting and, I don’t know, not work?” Harley yawned dramatically, curling into himself like he was his own human burrito.
“No,” she said. “But thanks for the offer.”
Harley grinned at her, warm and lopsided.
“Speaking of meetings,” Pepper said, stretching slightly in her chair and grabbing her phone. “I’ll be right back.”
She did not come back in five minutes. Or ten. Or fifteen. Which meant Harley was already mentally prepared for her to be gone for like, two hours. Statistically, that’s how it usually played out. Either she gave someone a swift pep talk, warning, or compliment and was back in a flash, or she ended up trapped in a meeting that lasted forever. There was no in-between.
Harley didn’t move from the couch. He did change positions, like, five different times. He found a pen someone had probably dropped under the couch six months ago, but that was about the extent of his productivity.
He briefly considered asking JARVIS to fake-alert Happy, like Hey, there's a situation in Pepper’s office just to get him to show up - but he didn’t have the guts. Not really. Especially since Happy was exactly the person he was sort of laying low from.
The door opened without warning. Not rudely or anything. Just… not like Pepper would’ve opened it.
Harley still didn’t sit up. People walked into Pepper’s office all the time. That one intern who always brought her green juice. That one assistant who always bowed to him too, which was weird. Random people whose world needed saving by Pepper Potts.
But the footsteps - those were different. Not heels, not dress shoes. Heavy, steady, confident. Not stompy, but not quiet either.
For a second, Harley thought maybe it was Rhodey. Rhodey did walk like that. But Rhodey would’ve said hi.
Harley turned just enough to see the door. And in walked a guy. Tall. Like, really tall. Perfect blonde hair. Broad shoulders. And that whole vibe - serious but somehow still warm. Like a guy who could either give you a hug or a lecture on civic responsibility, depending on the mood. He wore normal clothes. Like, really normal. Almost aggressively neutral. The kind of outfit that screamed I have no idea what I’m doing, so I chose the safest possible option.
Harley sank deeper into the couch cushions.
Captain freaking America.
Steve actual freaking Rogers.
Harley stared at him again, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
So this was his first real Avenger encounter. And they were starting strong, apparently.
Well - not counting his dad. And Rhodey. If Rhodey counted. Which… maybe he didn’t?
“Oh,” the man said, stopping mid-step. He looked kind of thrown off. “Sorry. I’m… looking for Pepper Potts?”
Harley blinked, still mentally catching up to the fact that Captain America was standing in front of him.
“She stepped out for a bit. Want me to tell her you dropped by?” he said, not moving from his sprawl on the couch.
Steve hesitated.
“Are you… uh, even supposed to be in here?” he asked, gesturing vaguely around the office.
“Nope,” Harley replied, completely deadpan.
Steve blinked. Harley felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward.
“I mean,” Harley added, lacing his fingers behind his head, “not officially. But she hasn’t kicked me out yet, if that helps.”
Steve looked around like he expected someone to come explain the situation to him. Like there were rules and someone had forgotten to enforce them.
“Right. Okay. I’ll just… wait for her, then. I can wait,” he said, though he made no move toward any of the chairs.
“You can,” Harley said, rolling to his side, “but if it’s, like, some end-of-the-world business, you might wanna send a follow-up email or something.”
“I don’t think I need your advice,” Steve said slowly.
“Sure. But I don’t think you don’t need it,” Harley shot back.
Steve gave him a look. Harley grinned. Teasing Captain America was, shockingly, a pretty effective cure for extreme boredom.
“So… do you work here?” Steve asked, arms folding across his chest.
“God, no.”
“Intern?”
“Do I look like an intern?” Harley laughed.
“You look like someone who shouldn’t be in Pepper Potts’ office surrounded by classified materials,” Steve said, visibly tensing.
“Ohhh,” Harley sat up a little and looked around the room dramatically. “Is this a secret meeting? You got a badge or something? Maybe, like, a little SHIELD pin?”
Steve exhaled through his nose slowly, like he was trying to summon a monk’s patience from deep within his soul.
“Listen, kid-”
“Okay, no. Don’t call me ‘kid,’” Harley said, offended. “That is so condescending. Just because you’ve been alive since the dinosaur age doesn’t mean you get to dad everyone.”
Steve squinted at him.
“You’re… definitely someone’s problem.”
“Thank you,” Harley beamed. “I work on that.”
For a second, Harley could practically hear Pepper’s voice in his head saying Don’t poke the bear. But Pepper wasn’t here, was she?
“So, what’s it like being the hero of your coworkers’ parents?” he added, like he wasn’t asking for a death wish.
Steve didn’t answer. First, he glanced toward the hallway like he was praying someone-anyone-would come rescue him. Then he looked up, like he was consulting with God directly.
Then he gave up.
He walked over to the window and stared out at the skyline.
Harley didn’t move.
The silence that followed was… uncomfortably loaded. Harley was ninety-nine percent sure Cap was watching him through the reflection in the glass, or at least side-eyeing him hard.
Pepper walked into the office mid-sentence, tapping something on her phone while issuing instructions to someone just outside the door.
“Sorry about that,” she said, still moving. “I had to step out for a qua-”
She stopped short when she saw Steve. Her face lit up politely.
“Hey,” Steve straightened up like he’d just been summoned to attention. “Didn’t mean to intrude, I just- Who’s the kid?”
Harley shifted on the couch sitting and crossed one leg over the other. He caught Pepper’s eye for half a second and gave a subtle shake of his head. A quiet no.
Pepper’s nostrils flared slightly, and she rolled her eyes so subtly it was practically telepathic.
“A friend,” she said smoothly. “He hangs around sometimes.”
“You let random teenagers into your office?” Steve frowned.
“He’s not random.”
Harley beamed at him with his most charming, most intentionally annoying smile.
“Did you need something, Steve?” Pepper sat behind her desk, clearly refusing to pick up the glove Harley had thrown.
“Right,” Steve said, still looking at Harley for a beat before turning his full attention to Pepper. “Tony’s not coming back for a few days. Something came up. He wanted me to let you know he’s fine, just has to sort out some logistics.”
“ Of course. Thank you,” Pepper said, not missing a beat.
“He sent Captain America instead of, like, texting?” Harley nodded like he was impressed. “Very on-brand.”
Pepper gave him a look. Harley had no idea what it meant, but it felt like a warning.
“Tony thinks Avenger-related updates should come from the top,” she explained, pointedly looking at Harley.
“Because phones are hard,” Harley added. “So advanced. Real cutting-edge stuff.”
“Does he always hang around like this?” Steve asked, glancing between them.
“You seem very stressed about my existence,” Harley said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. “You sure this isn’t some secret side mission? Save the mysterious boy from the CEO’s office?”
“I just wanted to know who you are?” Steve said, visibly off-balance again.
“Same,” Harley replied, pointing back and forth between them. “You and me both, buddy.”
Pepper raised her eyebrows and gave Harley a long, pointed look.
“Behave.”
“I am behaving,” Harley said, eyes going wide with mock innocence. “This is me on my best behavior. Ask literally anyone.”
Steve gave Pepper a look like he’d reached the end of his rope.
“Do you want me to call security?”
“He’s fine, Steve.”
“You sure?”
“Very sure.”
Harley flashed another grin and pointed lazily at Pepper.
“ She’s legally obligated to say that.”
“You’re pushing it,” Pepper said sing-song.
“And yet you adore me.”
Pepper didn’t answer, but her mouth twitched. Harley took it as an another win.
“Okay. I wasn’t trying to be rude,” Steve said, holding his hands up. “I just…”
“I’m a secret government experiment,” Harley offered cheerfully.
Steve’s expression didn’t change. Harley shrugged.
“Alright, fine. Cover story. Cloning. Time travel. Pick your flavor.”
“Seriously?” Steve turned to Pepper like a kid looking to the teacher for backup.
Pepper exhaled through her nose and finally looked Steve directly in the eye.
“He’s Tony’s son.”
Silence.
“I… Tony has a son?” Steve blinked like he was glitching.
Harley flashed his biggest grin yet and made jazz hands near his face like he was on a game show.
“Surprise!”
Steve looked like Harley had sprouted two heads or maybe five eyes.
“You don’t look-he doesn’t-Tony never mentioned…”
“Yeah, well, that’s kind of his thing,” Harley said brightly. “Big on secrets. Huge fan of compartmentalizing.”
Steve still looked like he was trying to force-reboot his brain. Harley could almost see the gears turning and jamming.
“Wait. How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
Steve opened his mouth. Closed it again.
“And how… I mean… for how long… you…?”
Harley leaned back and folded his hands like he was about to give a TED Talk.
“You know, most people usually start with ‘Nice to meet you’ or something.”
“Right,” Steve mumbled. “Sorry. I just… wow. You’re definitely a Stark.”
“Ugh, don’t say that,” Harley groaned. “People keep saying it like it’s a compliment.”
Pepper raised her eyebrows.
“Okay, some people,” Harley amended, rolling his eyes.
“And you… let him hang out in your office?” Steve asked Pepper, still trying to find his footing.
“He’s grounded,” Pepper said smoothly. “This is his version of sulking.”
“I’m not sulking,” Harley protested. “I’m dramatically embodying my two-TWO-week grounding.”
“You left without notice and didn’t respond,” she reminded him.
“It was, like, two hours!” Harley winced.
“Ten.”
Steve glanced between them again, completely lost.
“This is… normal?”
“Welcome to Stark Tower,” Harley said, grinning even wider.
“Mhm…” Steve murmured. “ Well. See you around, Stark. Pepper.”
Harley watched him as he nodded and left the room.
“He looked taller on the posters,” Harley said when the door clicked shut.
“I told you not to trust propaganda,” Pepper replied, already back to work.
Harley gave her a crooked smile and returned to doing absolutely nothing.
A few days later, Harley found a new pastime. Or really-Happy found one for him. He’d dug through some stuff someone left behind on-site and decided it was worth giving to Harley. Harley seriously doubted Happy even opened the thing. He probably just read the blurb on the back and remembered that Harley liked horror.
But House of Leaves wasn’t really a horror novel. Or, it was, but it also looked like someone had formatted it drunk in Word ‘97. Still, Harley was reading it like it owed him money.
He was sprawled across the couch in the living area, letting JARVIS play whatever "forest ambience" or "brown noise" or whatever the hell he called it. Harley was halfway through trying to decode why page 328 had maybe three words on it when the elevator dinged, announcing someone’s arrival. He didn’t move.
“You look like a bridge troll,” Rhodey said instead of hello. Harley peeked over the back of the couch with a scowl, watching him approach. “Except without the bridge. Or the riddles. You just look grumpy.”
“I feel like a bridge troll,” Harley muttered, dropping back into his original position.
“Perfect,” Rhodey said cheerfully, looking at him like he was a pile of laundry someone forgot to fold. “Let’s drag you into the sunlight before you turn to stone.”
Harley grimaced and rolled his eyes. Trolls did turn to stone in sunlight.
“No way,” he said, flipping a page dramatically, then having to flip it back immediately because he had no idea what just happened. “I’m grounded.”
“Nice try,” Rhodey said, dropping into the chair closest to the couch. “You’re grounded from electronics, not movement. I cleared this with Pepper myself. I’m authorized.”
“That smells like lies,” Harley muttered, pulling the book closer to his face.
“She told me to troll you out of here,” Rhodey explained.
“She said troll?”
“No, but it was the emotional undercurrent.”
Harley didn’t respond. He just groaned quietly and kept reading.
“Come on. Let’s just go check out Midtown High. Walk around. Maybe make fun of the guidance counselor’s posters.”
“Why would I wanna look at a school I’m not going to?” Harley grumbled behind the book.
“You are going.”
“That’s a bold assumption.”
“It’s not an assumption when Pepper’s been looking at brochures about after-school activities.”
Harley dropped the book onto his face and let one arm hang off the couch like he was mourning something deeply personal. Rhodey gave him a beat.
“Also, I’m getting you boba afterward. So stop acting like this is some Greek tragedy.”
“Bribery is a sign of weakness,” Harley mumbled into the book.
“Yeah, well. I’m weak for you, kid.”
Harley sighed and turned his head so the book slid off his face and hit the floor with a dull thud.
“You’re lucky I like boba,” he said, standing up.
“I’m lucky you like me,” Rhodey said smugly. “Admit it.”
“Never.”
Rhodey followed him toward the elevator.
“Fine, have it your way,” Rhodey said, “but you do know your name is saved in my phone as ‘favorite but rude nephew,’ right?”
Harley rolled his eyes. He was Rhodey’s only nephew.
“You ever even been there?” Harley asked while they waited for the elevator.
“Nope. Never set foot inside. But I’ve been to a few schools in my day,” Rhodey shrugged.
“So you’re dragging me on a tour of a school you don’t know?” Harley blinked at him.
“Exactly. It’s an adventure. For both of us.”
“It’s gonna be terrible.”
“Almost definitely. But the boba will be good,” Rhodey nodded, steering him into the elevator when it finally arrived.
“You’re the only person in this building who’s both annoying and tolerable,” Harley muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“That’s ‘cause I’m funny.”
Harley smirked slightly, then immediately turned his head away so Rhodey wouldn’t catch it. Judging by the smug look on Rhodey’s face, he’d caught it anyway.
“Also,” Rhodey added as the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, “I made a playlist. Half decent music, half songs specifically chosen to make you extremely uncomfortable.”
“You’re the worst,” Harley groaned.
“Yup. And yet, here you are. In an elevator. With me.”
“Shut up.”
“Just making sure that’s on record,” Harley muttered as they pulled up outside a building way bigger than he’d pictured. Midtown School of Science and Technology blocked out like… half the sky. “You do realize dragging a teenager to a school in the middle of summer should probably count as psychological warfare?”
Rhodey didn’t even look at him, just walked straight to the guest log on the little table by the front doors.
“Only if it’s before noon,” he shrugged. “It’s 1:40. Geneva Convention doesn’t apply.”
Harley let his head flop back dramatically and dragged his feet toward the overly cheerful receptionist behind the front desk.
“Hi there! Visiting the school today?”
“Yep,” Rhodey said, nodding toward Harley. “Got ourselves a future sophomore here.”
She smiled at Rhodey first, then at Harley-and Harley immediately clocked the slight pause in her gaze, the flicker like something just clicked. Like someone had maybe given her a heads-up about someone, and she just now realized who.
So Harley gave her one of his good smiles.
“He’s the adult,” Harley said, jerking a thumb at Rhodey. “I’m just here for the AC and the drama.”
“You are the drama,” Rhodey muttered under his breath, still flashing the receptionist his polite grown-up face.
They didn’t have to wait long. A woman in her forties stepped out of one of the offices in the back-dressed in a blazer and shoes that were clearly trying to balance elegance and comfort, which only made them look weird and probably painful as hell.
“Colonel James Rhodes, right? I’m Millie Castillo, the director’s assistant,” she greeted them with a professional smile. “Glad you scheduled this visit.”
“No problem at all,” Rhodey said with a polite nod.
“And you must be Mr. Stark,” she added, giving Harley a look like she was waiting to see how he’d react.
Harley straightened a little and nodded once. He didn’t pretend she had the wrong guy, didn’t play dumb or act like she hadn’t just called him out directly. If she knew he was a Stark and was expecting a Stark, then fine-he could be a Stark.
“That’s me,” he confirmed, slipping into his go-to mode for dealing with strangers: relaxed shoulders, alert eyes, and a facial expression just this side of cocky. “Appreciate the tour.”
Ms. Castillo smiled politely-thankfully steering clear of the minefield that was asking about his dad.
“We’re happy to have you,” she said, gesturing down the hallway to get things started. “I’ll keep it short since it’s summer, but come fall, you’ll get the full Midtown experience.”
“You ever get a private tour when you picked your high school?” Harley asked quietly, glancing over at Rhodey.
“I went to the one closest to my house.”
“Yikes. Harsh.”
They started the tour, walking through sunlit halls. It was mostly quiet, aside from a couple of guys doing maintenance work-sanding floors here, repainting walls there-and a few kids from summer programs down at the end of the corridor.
Ms. Castillo pointed out classrooms, labs, and some student club posters that looked like they’d been taped up since spring-or maybe even the fall before.
Harley asked questions. Not many. Just one here, one there. Mostly to show that he did know some things. Which electives were open to sophomores? How many APs could he realistically stack? How big was the student council?
“I don’t have your full file yet,” Ms. Castillo said as they passed a wall of tutoring resources, “but I noticed you’ve studied advanced lit and physics. And you logged quite a few hours tutoring, correct?”
“Yeah,” Harley nodded. “Math and sciences, mostly. Some bio for the younger grades. Algebra. Sometimes English. Depends how desperate someone was. I like helping.”
Rhodey turned his head slightly, eyebrows climbing.
“You like helping?” he muttered.
“Is that really so hard to believe?” Harley replied with a barely-there shrug.
“You literally told Pepper once that tutoring was ‘academic babysitting for kids who peaked in middle school.’”
“I contain multitudes,” Harley mumbled.
Ms. Castillo laughed quietly and immediately seemed a little embarrassed, covering her mouth with one hand. Rhodey gave Harley a look like he was suddenly re-evaluating everything he thought he knew about him.
“Midtown’s one of the most competitive STEM-focused schools in the region,” Ms. Castillo went on after a moment. “You’ll be surrounded by high-achieving, curious students, and we encourage collaboration and pushing yourself academically. Besides tutoring, were you involved in anything else?”
“Did a bunch of independent stuff last year. Some comparative lit,” he said, trying to make it sound more interesting than it probably was. “Shakespeare and Marlowe, a little Plath. My advisor kinda let me wander. Also fenced for a bit, did swimming, and joined the debate club.”
“That’s quite impressive,” she said with a note of genuine approval in her voice.
Harley flashed a disarming smile and matched Rhodey’s pace. As they rounded a corner, a massive mural came into view, stretching across the stairwell wall and spilling onto part of the hallway. Rockets, explosions, chemical symbols. The great inventors. A collage of brilliant minds-Einstein, Turing, Curie, Tesla-and just slightly left of center, looming large: Howard Stark.
Harley stopped. His eyes locked on that familiar face buried deep in the scene, something in the expression just a little too close to his dad’s.
“That was part of an interdisciplinary art project a few years back,” Ms. Castillo explained, clearly noticing what had caught his attention. “The students picked inventors who inspired them.”
“Very original,” Harley said, tilting his head and squinting at it.
“Your… ahem-he showed up often. Bit of a local underdog story, I guess.”
“Local and generational trauma,” Harley offered, aiming for humor and missing the mark just enough to make it awkward.
Ms. Castillo gave him a small, polite nod, the kind you give when you’re not quite sure what to do with a comment but you want to move past it gracefully. She did. They saw the robotics lab, the student newspaper office. Harley even perked up at the radio booth. He’d spent some time hanging out in one back at his old school-not hosting shows or anything, just suggesting music for the DJs to use as filler. Mostly because Olivia had practically lived in that room.
The tour wrapped with a few thank-yous and a printed information packet Harley fully intended to forget in someone’s backseat. He shook Ms. Castillo’s hand again, politely, and forced a goodbye smile that sounded something like see you in September.
“So, Uncle Jimmy,” Harley said as they stepped outside, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, turning his face toward the sun. “What’d you think?”
“Did you just-?” Rhodey tripped slightly on the stairs.
“It was contextual,” Harley grinned. “Deal with it.”
“What happened to the grumpy little troll I had to drag off the couch an hour ago?” Rhodey narrowed his eyes at him.
“He’s grounded,” Harley said matter-of-factly, already heading toward the car.
“You are you,” Rhodey replied.
“If everyone’s expecting a Stark,” Harley shrugged, “might as well give them a Stark. Boba?”
Rhodey sighed deeply as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve definitely earned one.”
The boba place was half pink neon, half industrial-strength air conditioning. A massive screen played what Harley was pretty sure were K-pop music videos, though he couldn’t swear to it. Rhodey was studying the laminated menu like it was an ancient manuscript written in code.
“So this is what you teens are into,” Rhodey muttered, squinting at a combo description like it might bite. “You can have pudding and jelly and beans in the same cup?”
“I didn’t ask for boba as a bribe,” Harley said, arms crossed on a slightly sticky table, glancing around with a mild grimace. “You picked this place.”
“I Googled ‘sugar-packed chaos teen-friendly hangouts’ and this had the fewest health code violations,” Rhodey explained.
“You’re trying way too hard, Uncle Jimmy.”
“Call me that again, and the only place I’m taking you next is the laundromat,” Rhodey said without even looking up.
“Sorry. Colonel Uncle Jimmy,” Harley snorted.
“Absolutely not.”
They both ordered mango. Rhodey went plain. Harley went for double boba-because if you’re doing something, you might as well commit, or at least that’s what his swim coach used to say.
“Back in my day, drinks didn’t fight you on the way down,” Rhodey said, stirring his like it might detonate.
“That’s because your day was full of grainy VHS tapes and state-owned milk,” Harley replied.
“Watch it,” Rhodey shot him a look. “Top Gun is a classic even now.”
“Sure it is, Uncle Jimmy.”
Rhodey sighed like a man regretting every decision that led to this exact moment. Harley loved it.
“So,” Rhodey said after a beat of silence, “what’d you think of the school?”
“It’s a school,” Harley said, taking a long sip to buy himself time. “A little sad, a little decent. Has labs. Whatever.”
“You didn’t hate it,” Rhodey noted, raising an eyebrow.
“‘A little decent’ is probably the most positive thing I’m emotionally capable of saying,” Harley offered, flashing a fake smile.
Rhodey raised that same eyebrow like he wasn’t letting it go. Harley rolled his eyes.
“They were nice,” he admitted, slouching over his cup, straw in his teeth. “Like... trying-not-to-scare-the-unicorn nice.”
“You’re some weird breed of unicorn.”
Harley didn’t respond. Just poked at the boba in his cup with intense focus. The silence stretched out. And that’s when he realized-it was a loaded silence. He looked up fast, eyes narrowing.
“You’re not about to, I don’t know, ambush me with some giant feelings talk, right?”
“You think I dragged you all the way to Queens just to stage an emotional trap?” Rhodey said calmly, sipping like his mango drink was punishment.
“Yes,” Harley said, squinting harder.
“Well, I didn’t.”
Harley didn’t move. Rhodey took another sip.
“But since we’re alrea-”
“Seriously?” Harley groaned, tipping back in his chair.
“Relax,” Rhodey said lightly. “I just wanted to ask what got you grounded.”
“Why do you care?” Harley lifted his head.
“Were you not trying to use it as an excuse to not hang out with me?” Rhodey asked.
“… Yeah.”
“I’m just curious,” Rhodey said, taking another sip. “Pepper wouldn’t tell me anything-said it wasn’t her place. But she did say you’ve been acting kinda weird, that she’s worried about you, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt for someone to check in. Man to man.”
“Oh my God, she actually said that?” Harley groaned, slumping in his seat.
“It’s dumb,” he muttered, jabbing at his boba with his straw. “We talked. I apologized. She grounded me. That’s it.”
“Yeah, it probably was dumb,” Rhodey agreed. “It usually is. I think she’s more worried about you than about whatever you did.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I always look like this.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“My dad picked that school,” Harley said, folding his arms. “Didn’t ask. Just signed the forms and sent me off. I only found out because Gene’s parents brought it up in passing.”
Rhodey’s eyebrows pulled together-barely, but Harley definitely caught it. He glanced down at the floor for a second, then back at him. And Harley knew that look. That was disappointment. The kind someone tries really hard not to show.
“He said he’d stay. That we’d hang out, make plans, whatever. Said the usual stuff. And I believed him,” Harley said, spinning his cup slowly, watching the liquid shift. “Then Avenger stuff happened, I guess, and not even a full day later, he bailed. So I snapped. But not at him. Because, you know, he wasn’t there. I snapped at her. She was the one waiting for me after I’d wandered around the city for hours.”
Rhodey’s jaw did this subtle thing-like it clenched, but gently. His eyes shut for just a second too long. They sat in silence for a while.
“I was a jerk,” Harley said finally. “I said awful stuff. Stuff I didn’t even mean. She didn’t yell…”
He paused, frowning, his leg starting to bounce under the table.
“But I think she cried later.”
Rhodey gave a single, slow nod. Harley couldn’t read his expression. But maybe that was because he wasn’t looking directly at him.
“The next day I apologized. She hugged me. Said it was okay,” Harley said with a slight shrug. “Let me sleep in. That night she told me I was grounded. And everything kind of... went back to normal.”
“And you think maybe it shouldn’t have?” Rhodey asked after a pause.
“I don’t know. She didn’t show me how upset she really was. So now I don’t know if I’m supposed to keep showing her I’m sorry,” Harley said, dropping his head back. “She made it too easy.”
“Pepper’s not the type to hold that kind of thing over your head,” Rhodey said, a little more firmly. “But that doesn’t mean she isn’t holding it in if it helps her kid not feel worse.”
“I’m not-” Harley started, but Rhodey gave him a look sharp enough to shut him up immediately. He shifted in his seat and tried again.
“I just… I know I’m not really her kid. Or my dad’s priority,” Harley said, voice lower now. “And she already does a lot. And she’s not... obligated.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Rhodey said gently. “You feel like crap. You said things. You owned up to it. That already makes you better than most grown men I know.”
“Still doesn’t make me feel better,” Harley muttered, eyes staring blankly ahead.
“That’s how it goes sometimes,” Rhodey nodded. “But just for the record? The fact that you care means I’m proud of you. Even if you’re kind of a little punk sometimes.”
“Thanks, Uncle Jimmy,” Harley said, rolling his eyes, though a tiny smile tugged at his mouth.
“Please don’t make that a thing.”
Harley smiled wider and rested his cheek on his hand.
“So, you really picked this place just to earn some cool-uncle points?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It was this or the long walk along the river.”
“God, Uncle Jimmy…” Harley grinned around his straw. “You could’ve just given me the talk.”
“I could have,” Rhodey said, knocking his cup lightly against Harley’s. “But I figured boba would go down smoother.”
Harley didn’t say anything, but he didn’t stop smiling either.
When Harley stepped into the apartment, he expected the echo-this weirdly hollow kind that he’d sort of started associating with home, whether he wanted to or not. Rhodey was a step behind him, still chuckling under his breath at the last joke Harley had thrown out.
But Harley felt it the second Rhodey’s posture shifted-then stopped entirely.
Tony was home.
He was on the couch, half-sitting, half-sprawled, wearing a shirt from some aggressively weird robotics startup, munching on what looked like chocolate-covered nuts. The TV flashed with a million colors a second. It was such a familiar image and yet so unexpected that Harley forgot to breathe for a full second.
“You’re home?” Harley asked, voice too flat to cover the surprise.
“You thought your old man got himself taken out? ” Tony glanced at him, flashing that smug, trademark smile. “You gotta stop assuming that. It’s doing terrible things to my self-esteem.”
Harley just stood there, taking it in.
He hadn’t even realized how ready he’d been to believe Tony had actually gotten himself killed. Or come back injured. Or not come back at all for another week.
Near his elbow, Rhodey tensed even more. Harley didn’t look at him-just shifted his weight so he could bump his arm lightly. Don’t. Don’t say anything. Don’t bring up what they’d talked about earlier. Let it go.
Tony didn’t notice. He grabbed the remote and patted the couch cushion next to him.
“I was gonna check out this supposedly terrible new sci-fi movie,” he said with a grin. “Inflatable aliens and everything. Figured I’d give it ten minutes. You in?”
Harley dragged his feet over and dropped into the seat beside his dad, very aware of Rhodey’s gaze practically burning a hole through the side of his head.
“I’m grounded from screens,” he muttered, trying to sit in a way that didn’t lean into Tony, but also didn’t scream I’m avoiding you. “Blanket ban.”
“Then consider you un-grounded,” Tony said with a casual wave of his hand.
Harley didn’t move. But he was almost certain Rhodey had just clenched his jaw again. Harley didn’t look over, his eyes were fixed on the barely-there cut above Tony’s eyebrow.
“That’s not how grounding works,” he said quietly.
“It is when I’m the dad.” Tony winked at him and ruffled his hair.
Harley didn’t react.
Tony acted like this was all normal. Like this was what they did. So Harley let himself lean back slightly, let Tony’s arm settle around his shoulders, and stared at the screen. At some point, Rhodey left, either giving them space or avoiding an aneurysm. Either way, Harley could feel his disapproval through the walls. Disapproval for pretending everything was fine.
“Rhodey took me to check out Midtown today,” he said after a moment.
“Yeah?” Tony turned his head toward him, blinking.
“Needed to scout it out,” Harley shrugged, letting himself sink a little deeper into the warm weight of Tony’s arm.
“Huh...” Tony tilted his head, sounding genuinely surprised. “Thought you’d wait till fall. Show up on day one like a king, make the school your bitch.”
Harley just shrugged again, eyes flicking back to the screen.
“You pick a locker yet?” Tony asked, too cheerfully. “You strike me as a bottom-row kind of guy. More chill. Keep expectations low.”
“Sure,” Harley said.
Tony shifted to get more comfortable, looking way too smug for someone who’d disappeared for nearly two weeks. Who hadn’t called. Not to him, anyway.
“I met Steve, by the way,” Harley added, watching the flickering images. “Earlier this week. He dropped by to see Pepper while I was there. Said I was definitely a Stark.”
“Told you. You’ve got the bone structure and the attitude,” Tony grinned.
He’d never actually said that.
Harley gave him a crooked smile but didn’t respond. He just let himself fall into that familiar chaos-Tony’s worn shirt sleeve brushing his neck, the warm weight of his hand dangling near Harley’s shoulder. He let it pull him in, like static. Let it crowd out the questions he wasn’t really expecting answers to anyway.
He knew he should say something. Push a little. Ask his dad why he hadn’t told him he was leaving. Why he stayed gone longer than the others. Why he was acting like they spent every other night watching movies together like this.
But he didn’t.
Because somewhere deep down, he knew if he did ask, Tony would either deflect with some dumb joke, or he’d go into overdrive-apologize too much, swear up and down he’d do better.
And then he wouldn’t.
And Harley would just end up taking it out on Pepper again.
So instead, he just breathed. Then again. And again. And even let himself smile a little.
Today had actually been kind of good. Maybe the evening could be, too.