#parkner week

This trope was not my own idea. Also, this is my first time writing fanfiction so it’s probably terrible. All constructive criticism is welcome. 

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The last thing Tony Stark remembered was the white-hot pain of the stones' power rushing through his body followed by the peaceful relief of feeling nothing as his surroundings slowly drifted away. 

Yet there he was, standing inside of a building that looked strangely similar to the Avengers Compound though at the same time, completely different.  

"Tony… you've been gone for over ten years…" said Pepper slowly with tears in her eyes. 

Tony's eyes widened in shock. "What year is it?" 

"2036"

Tony's mind had to take a second to process what he was hearing. He had been gone for thirteen years, which means Morgan should be almost eighteen, Peter 29, and Harley 30. His kids grew up without him; his baby girl was an adult; Peter and Harley had graduated for Christ's sake, from both high school and college. Tony couldn't have held back the sob he let out even if he tried.

"Oh Tony…" she gathered her husband in her arms. He buried his face in her neck and let out heart-wrenching sobs. His tears were beginning to dampen Pepper's neck when she started to run her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. 

"They were devastated, you know," Pepper began, "Everyone was, but it took them longer to finally accept that you were gone." 

Tony raised his head and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "Who?"

"Harley and Peter," replied Pepper, "Harley locked himself in your lab for days on end and wouldn't come out until someone went in and forced him to get some rest. Peter wouldn't eat and hardly got any sleep from all of the nightmares he was having. It finally got to the point where Helen had to hook him up to an IV after he passed out once. That was when I told them both that you wouldn’t want them doing this to themselves. After that, they started to make progress.” 

Another wave of sorrow hit Tony like a brick wall. His boys were so upset over his death that they neglected their own health. How many times had they willingly allowed themselves to be hurt because of him?

"But they got better," continued Pepper, "They were able to find comfort and start looking after each other." She let out a chuckle. "They were practically attached at the hip. Still are." 

That made Tony smile. He was glad that they got along. He always wanted to introduce them but never got the chance to before the Blip happened. 

"You should see them. You'd be so proud. They're both helping me so much with Stark Industries. I honestly have no idea what I'd do without them," said Pepper, as she wiped away the remaining tears left on his face.

"What about Morgan? How’s she?" 

"She's amazing," said Pepper. Tony tried to make a comment about how of course she is, she’s his daughter, but Pepper just ignored him with an eyeroll.  "Peter says she's the perfect combination of you and me with your brains and my business skills. God only knows one day the three of them are either going to take over the world or destroy it." 

Tony let out a snort, "That sounds about right." 

···································

They continued to talk about everything he'd missed for over an hour when Pepper let out a startled sound, “I forgot to tell you-"

"Hey Pepper, do you know where my..laptop...is…" said Harley as he walked in before making eye contact with Tony and tapping his watch, which turned into a repulser that was aiming straight at the older man.

“Harley?” Tony asked in wonder, tears threatening to spill again. Harley looked different from how he did when he had last seen him, but that was, without a doubt, him. His dirty blonde hair had grown long enough to reach just above his ears, and, Jesus, was he tall. The blue-eyed boy looked like he reached a height of about 6’3”, a full two inches taller than Tony himself. He was about to say more but was cut off by a startlingly hard voice. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" yelled Harley. Pepper jumped up in alarm at the younger boy's harsh tone and stood between the two of them, getting in the way of the repulser's shot.

"It's not him, Harley." Not who? Tony thought.

Harley’s narrowed eyes never left the other man as he replied with a snarl, "Tony’s dead, so who else could it be?" 

"It's not, I had Friday check to make sure it wasn't an illusion. Do you really think I wouldn’t think of that?" said Pepper, her voice laced with accusation. 

Harley looked at her for a second before reluctantly lowering his gun “No...but then how-”

“Your guess is as good as mine. He said the last thing he remembers is using the stones against Thanos before ending up here.” 

Tony watched them talk back and forth for another ten minutes while he processed what just happened. What did this person do to make him so hostile? Before he could stop himself, he voiced his confusion. 

Harley stopped arguing with Pepper and turned to him with a sigh, “You’re really you, aren’t you?” His eyes searched Tony for any hesitation while he waited for an answer. 

“Of course, who else would I be? Seriously, what’s going o-” 

He was cut off by someone throwing themselves at him and wrapping their arms around him in a firm hug. “God, I missed you, old man.” 

Tony relaxed in his grip and returned the hug tightly. “Missed you too, kid” 

It took them several minutes to rein in their emotions and let go of each other, their faces wet with tears. Neither of them were ever really good at emotions, both preferring to make sarcastic comments rather than state their true feelings.

“So, you never answered my question,” stated Tony. 

Harley looked at him in confusion, “What question?” 

“Who did you think I was?” Tony both wanted to change the subject and satisfy his curiosity, but Pepper and Harley gave each other a worried glance before tentatively turning back to him. 

“It’s a, uh, long story,” Harley said, “A lot happened while you were gone," but as he raised his arms to start explaining, Tony noticed something. 

“Hold on a second...Is that a wedding ring?! You're married?!"

“Oh, well, I guess,” The blonde boy sheepishly rubbed his neck. 

“What do you mean you ‘guess?’” Tony cried, “Who is it? Do I know them?” 

Harley looked overwhelmed, but it was obvious that Pepper found this all amusing due to the bright laugh she let out. “I told you he would go crazy if he ever found out. Just wait until he hears who it is.” The boy glared at her for a second, wishing she wouldn’t encourage the older man. It wasn’t that Harley was afraid to tell Tony about his husband, but...he was kind of afraid to tell him about his husband. Both Harley and Peter knew that Tony had seen them both as sons, and they had mournfully speculated on multiple occasions what his reaction would be; however, now that he was given the chance to find out for himself, he was hesitant. Would Tony be mad at them? God knows that neither of them would be able to deal with their pseudo-father's rejection very well, especially Peter. 

“Well, you see, it’s-”

“Tony?” Tony’s head shot up at the sound of his name.

“Peter! Wait, it's not-” Harley tried to reach out to the other boy, but he fearfully jerked away from the incoming touch, eyes wide. When he saw this, Harley’s blue eyes softened into something akin to hurt and a small sympathetic noise left his throat. 

“Peter, sweetheart, you’re ok, you’re safe. It’s not Beck,” spoke Harley softly, as if he were talking to a frightened animal, but it didn’t seem to work.  Peter began to hyperventilate the longer he looked at the scene in front of him. In an attempt to block out the illusion, he quickly shut his eyes and covered his ears, trying to defend himself against the more than likely painful experience he was about to have.

“Pepper, get him out of here!” snapped Harley, and it didn’t take long for Pepper to grab Tony’s arm and pull him out of the room despite the boy’s rude tone. At this point, Tony was very confused. He thought Peter would be ecstatic to see that he was back, not fearful. And who is Beck? The name is vaguely ringing a bell. Is that who Harley thought he was? What did he do to Peter that would make him have a panic attack the moment he thought he saw him?

Once he and Pepper were out of sight from the other two, they came to a stop. “What the hell was that all about?” Tony demanded. 

Pepper let out a long sigh, and in that moment, she looked very tired. "Do you remember Quentin Beck?" 

The second Tony heard the man's full name, memories of a brown haired man screaming at him rushed to the surface of his brain. That psycho was who everybody was so defensive against? Tony remembered the project they were working on. Beck was brilliant, but he had proven himself to be unstable when he tried to use an experiment with their work on an unsuspecting intern. After that, Tony had stopped the partnership between them and wrote up a contract that said Tony got full rights to the product and Beck would only get part of the credit since Tony had done most of the work anyways. He really hoped that didn't result in consequences for his protege. 

But unfortunately his hope ended up being dashed when Pepper began to explain all of the things Beck had done to Peter in Europe as revenge for what Tony had done, from revealing his identity and framing him for murder to hitting him with a speeding train (of all things), all while psychologically tormenting him with illusions of his worst fears and most traumatic experiences. Apparently while Peter was on the run as an international criminal, Pepper and Happy had sent him to stay with Harley to lay low while they cleared his name and did damage control. 

Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. His son had gone through hell and back in the wake of his death and Tony wasn't there to help him.  Peter must've felt so alone, not to mention all of the PTSD he must've gotten from the whole ordeal.

Pepper saw the combination of anguish and fierce protectiveness on his face and assured Tony that yes, Peter had been through a lot, but between Harley, Happy, May, Morgan, and herself, he was able to mentally recover for the most part. He still has nightmares and panic attacks about what happened but he is now able to put the suit on and protect New York despite what happened to him as Spider-man. 

Tony still had so many questions, but before he could voice any of them Friday’s robotic voice said, "Mr. Keener wishes me to tell you that you may make your way back to the living room."

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As Pepper slowly led Tony back to where the boys were, she cautioned, "Just give him some time. One of Beck's favorite things to torment him with was you."

Tony's anger flared once more. How dare Beck hurt his kid like that. It's a good thing he's dead because he definitely wouldn't be alive for much longer with Tony here now. 

When they finally re-entered the living room, what Tony saw made him freeze. Peter wasn’t cowering against the wall anymore but was now standing in Harley’s arms with his face buried in the taller boy’s chest. Harley had his head rested on top of Peter’s chocolate curls as he serenely swayed the both of them back and forth and murmured something Tony couldn’t hear. He looked over to Pepper to see if she was seeing the same thing he was, but she was just looking at the two with fond eyes before quickly glancing in Tony’s direction with a smug smile. He raised his eyebrows at her in question but she just gently shook her head and cleared her voice to grab  the others’ attention. 

Peter and Harley both looked up, startled, before de-tangling from each other minus one hand. The former looked at Tony with hesitation and asked, “Is it really you?” 

“Yeah, bud, it’s me,” replied Tony, trying to put as much sincerity in his eyes as possible. 

When Peter heard that, he let out a sob and let go of Harley’s hand as he threw himself at his mentor. Tony was quick to meet him halfway in a bone-crushing hug, securing his arms around the boy as he turned his face into the younger man’s temple. Peter was openly crying with his head tucked into Tony’s neck, the tears on his face soaking the older man’s skin, “I missed you...so much,” hiccups breaking apart his speech. 

“God, I missed you too, kid,” was all Tony could say in response. 

It felt like hours before they let go of each other, them both trying to make up for the years they didn’t have together. When they finally took a step back, Peter went back to Harley’s side and grabbed his hand again, seeking comfort from it. That was when Tony noticed the gold band on his ring finger as well. “What the hell?! You’re married too?!” he shouted. 

Peter, Harley, and Pepper all gave each other a look that lasted a little too long, and Tony felt like he was missing something, “What?” 

“You really haven’t figured it out yet?” replied Pepper with a touch of humor in her voice. 

“Figured what out?”

“I guess I never actually told you who I was married to…” chimed Harley, “It’s, uh, it’s Peter. Peter’s my husband.” The couple gave each other a look full of love and adoration before turning back to Tony to see his reaction.

Tony’s breath was knocked out of his lungs, “Holy shit, seriously?” He always knew the two of them would get along together like fire takes to oxygen, but he never imagined this. Though now that he thinks about it, it kind of makes sense. The boys are very similar with their love of science yet are complete opposites personality-wise. Harley is rough around the edges and prefers to avoid discussing feelings or showing his true emotions, much like Tony does. While Peter, on the other hand, is soft-hearted and does his best to think about everybody else but himself. Together, they seem to complete each other, picking up the slack in one part of the other’s life that they weren’t aware was weighing them down. 

This time Peter spoke up saying, “Yeah, uh, we’ve been together for over ten years now. About four years ago Harley proposed to me and we got married two years later.” Tony’s heart dropped at the thought of missing their wedding. 

“They were both pretty upset about you not being able to be there, so we set up a chair in the front with a picture of you sitting on it,” added Pepper. 

Tony tried to will away the tears that were threatening to spill again but a few of them ran down his cheeks anyways. He was touched by their gesture and walked forward to engulf them both in a hug that they returned, “I’m happy for you, boys.” The two of them seemed to relax at that, but by then, everyone in the room was crying. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” whispered Peter with a smile despite the tears running down his face. 

Peter had been a fan fiction writer for quite some time. When he was in middle school, his schedule balancing robotics club, band, and AcaDec, he needed a creative outlet that wasn’t rigidly confined by STEM or saxophone repetoire.

So, he found himself writing stories.

They weren’t good. They were actually quite horrendous at first, but he expressed his love for the Star Wars stories, exploring character interactions in as many ways as he could imagine. He made canon divergent fix-it fics and cringey OC fics and even modern high school AUs.

However, as he grew older, his skills blossomed, just from the sheer magnitude that he wrote.

Every day, when he got back from his extracurriculars, already having finished his homework during school, he would find himself at the chunky computer he had rebuilt from garbage scraps, typing away until Ben called him for dinner, and then back at the keyboard when he finished washing the dishes.

It wasn’t until Spider-Man entered his life did his stories really get somewhere.

Peter had become known for his hyper-realistic, extremely detailed action sequences. After a particularly long patrol, he took notes on form and the choreography of it all, the different way that the criminals attempted to fight against him.

Of course, he took a lot of creative liberty to adapt the fights to fit his characters, but people appreciated the ebb and flow, how it didn’t focus on the gore, but instead the intricacies of technique and battle preparation.

But, his modest AO3 following wasn’t something that he broadcasted in his real life. There were enough reasons for people to make fun of Peter Parker, and he didn’t want to add to the list.

So, after almost a year of knowing Harley Keeer, Peter didn’t think to mention it.

Harley was great. He was really, really, really great, and Peter didn’t want to ruin what he could only hope was respect and mutual friendship that he shared with Harley by divulging his deepest, darkest secret with him. (Because despite what one would think, Spider-Man was not his deepest, darkest secret.)

Because Peter maybe, just maybe, just maybe a teensy tiny little bit, had a big, fat, embarrassing, brain-goes-offline-and-he-makes-stuttering-static-noises-when-he-tries-to-talk crush on Harley.

Harley was effortless charismatic. He was funny in a dry and sarcastic kind of way that could keep up banter for what felt like hours. He was kind in a genuine benevolent generosity kind of way. He was intelligent, and he made it very clear that he was competent and capable. He was confident, unwavering and strong. And he was really pretty. Sparkling blue eyes and soft, bouncy blonde hair, and a crooked smile.

So, sue him! Harley was dreamy and exactly Peter’s type.

So, when Harley approached him one morning, Peter slurping down a mango smoothie, saying “hey, Peter, so I was checking out your AO3,” was it really his fault that he snorted it out of his nose and coughed for a good two minutes in pure shock and also so he could delay the conversation as much as he could?

Class started before Harley could bring it up again that day.

But Peter knew it was coming.

The two were lounging in Harley’s room, Peter at his desk finishing his research essay for AP Lit, and Harley lying on the carpeted floor, scrolling silently on his phone.

“I just finished “ Thnks Fr Th Mmrs (even if they weren’t so bad) ,” Harley announced.

Peter choked. “ What ?!”

“Yeah, it took me a good couple hours because I mean, Jesus, 236,000 words, but I finished, and I gotta say, wasn’t expecting that ending.”

Peter swiveled around in the rollie chair. “How did you find my AO3?”

“It’s linked on your Tumblr,” Harley said with a shrug. “Anyways, I know that it was tagged major character death, but killing off Rey like that, I mean, that was heartbreaking. I felt physical pain in my chest while reading that. I didn’t even know a book could do that.”

“You read my fic?” Peter asked.

Harley looked to him, confused. “Yeah, I said that didn’t I? I’ve been reading your whole page, though it’s gonna take me some time because you’ve got like at least a million words total.” He scrolled through. “I started from your earliest fics because I figured they’ll just get better the further I get, and I’m about fifteen fics in because that last one was so long, and I don’t have that much free time…”

“Why are you reading my fics?” Peter blurted out.

“Because you wrote them?” Harley responded, as if the answer was obvious. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s… it’s embarrassing.”

“I mean, yeah, your earlier work had some formatting issues with the dialogue and some grammar mix ups, but I wouldn’t say it’s embarrassing. If anything, it’s really well written. Thnks Fr Th Mmmrs got a lot better as it went on.”

“That was my first multi-chap,” Peter said.

“You could tell. At least, at first you could. But like I said, it got better as it went on.”

“You liked it?”

Harley tilted his head. “Yeah. I did. You’re a really talented writer, Peter.” He looked to him with confusion and a hint of hurt. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about this? Did you not trust me? Did you think I was going to make fun of you?”

“No!” Peter said quickly. “Well, I… I just, people think it’s weird. And that I’m weird. And it’s just one more weird thing, and I just didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“I could never think you were weird,” Harley said softly.

Peter ducked his head, averting his gaze. “So, uh, do you have any notes? The feedback is pretty mixed in my comments, but usually the criticism I receive isn’t quite constructive.”

“Well, your action scenes are impeccable,” Harley said. “You really know how to capture movement. And the team dynamics are spot on. The build of trust and eventual camaraderie doesn’t feel rushed at all, and as a reader, is really fulfilling and satisfying.”

“But?” Peter prompted.

“But,” Harley continued, “the non-platonic relationships are lacking.”

Peter bobbed his head in understanding, hand going to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah…” He sighed. “It’s just, it’s hard, y’know? Because I’ve never… I mean, the closest I ever got was with Liz, and you know how that ended up.”

Harley sat on the edge of his bed. “Have you tried reading it more?”

“I just don’t tend to read that stuff. I’m not… it’s just not as interesting to me because I don’t get it. And that’s the problem. I just don’t get this stuff. Even if I did, I wouldn’t be good at it enough to really retain that information,” Peter said with a pathetic shrug.

“What do you have trouble with?” Harley asked, leaning forward, invested and curious.

“It’s the physical side of things. I don’t… in theory, I get how the feelings should feel. But, getting the logistics of stuff like how it feels when they finally break that physical barrier or how a kiss should be described, I just, I’m hopeless.”

“Well, I could help you?”

Peter looked up. “What?”

“I could show you. And explain it to you. Show you how it should be written.”

I'm so excited, and I hope you guys are too! I can't wait to see all of your beautiful, amazing creations!!

Its gonna be a good one, folks. Happy one day to parkner week 2020!! 🥰💞

Parkner week day 5: "Hat on backwards"

it’s 4:30am so i don’t know if this even counts as being proofread sorry

i’ve found that kinda-sad-kinda-rambly short fics are what comes most naturally to me, but rest assured i will be properly attempting to write funny fluff for most days :) 

Day 1: “2029, that’s not a real year” / time travel / future au

I said I wanted to worship something, even if it’s just the black

beetles in your yard crawling around hurriedly like pieces of a star trying to reassemble itself.

In your apartment we danced like we knew each other. You rubbed your hands against my neck and shoulder

as if you were shaping me out of a blackberry tree.

I said the dogmouth dark carried me here and laid me in your bed. I said lamb

and felt myself become gospel in your hands.

- Self Portrait as Headless John The Baptist Hitchhiking by C.T Salazar

It’s been five years, and the world has moved on.

Humans have been conditioned to cope with loss quickly and efficiently, and to mourn in solemn silence. Be it your father, your daughter, or four billion strangers who pass, the world keeps spinning. Five years is more than long enough to be forgotten, especially when you never really had anyone in the first place, but it’s not so bad. Truly, even the darkest clouds heavy with rain and gloom have a dull silver lining.

Peter came into the world with nothing and tried desperately to create a family from everyone he loved. Harley had everyone he needed at one point, but couldn’t stop losing people like loose change between spread fingers. They were bound to find each other.

* It’s been ten years, and Peter and Harley have moved on.

Those sacred days spent in a shed in Tennessee turned into late nights and fleeting moments of peace in a college dorm in Massachusetts, until everything fell into place in an apartment in New York. Exactly where they were supposed to be according to Harley’s fifty-step plan to get out of his town and Peter’s zero-step plan to live a real life outside being a superhero.

It’s hard to put a finger on when the nightmares stopped. Countless hours of holding each other and wiping up tears trickled away and a bustling, busy, domestic, normal life began to fill its place.

On Monday morning Harley leaves for work at nine, a few minutes before Peter wakes up and forces himself out of bed to check what’s written on the fridge today. There are four dry erase markers on the island beside the still-steaming coffee pot. Peter pours himself a cup and moves to get milk, and almost drops his mug in shock at the messy scrawl in front of him.

“Promoted! Got the call last night and just didn’t want to wake you up. Call me at lunch. I love you.”

It’s so ridiculously domestic. Like every other time something average and not at all crazy happens, Peter has to sit down to consider how his life has ended up like this.

In about an hour, he’s going to put on his multi-million dollar nanotech superhero suit and swing around New York City popping into hospitals and surprising children, helping little old ladies cross the street, and stopping a petty crime here or there. And maybe he’ll be on alert in case aliens try to invade the planet again.

His husband is at work in a research lab somewhere in Brooklyn and he’s been promoted. Peter can surprise him with some nice wine and a takeout from some high end restaurant and they can dance to Paul Anka like they did at their wedding, like they do whenever one of them has an achievement to celebrate. They’re going to collapse in their indulgently soft queen sized bed, tipsy and happy like the old men they are. It only took twenty-eight years, but finally Peter’s life has developed some semblance of normality.

right time, right place

The ring has been tucked into the very, very, very back of the top shelf of the pantry since he bought it, because Peter might have spider abilities and could very easily climb the wall to reach the top, but he seems to like the reminder that Harley is taller than him and always just asks him to grab whatever’s up there instead. It’s—odd. Adorable. Harley loves him a lot.

Loves him enough to want to marry him. Which brings everything right back around to the ring.

Parkner Week: Day 2: Iron Lad