Ch. 39

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Aight guys.

Here's an update, hope you guys are doing good, what's up?

I'm in a *slightly* better headspace, not much, but now I'm sick.

So give me the love and comments and votes because I thrive on such stuff and I'm needy right now

ANYWAY.

Have some recuperating, some science puns, some Irondad, some...

Who am I kidding.

Just read the frikkin story already.

Peace out


















Peter was out of the taxi with only a quick thanks after paying, eager to get away from the taxi driver's stories of passengers that had puked in that very seat.

He found Harley already reclined in one of the comfier seats in the waiting room.

The other teen looked nearly asleep, head leaning in his hand, and Peter almost wanted to startle him into falling off the chair, but wasn't quite that cold-hearted.

"Hey." His voice was quiet, and he sat carefully on the edge of the seat. "Harley. Wake up."

Harley straightened slowly, face turned in his direction, eyes still closed, and Peter had to grin at the sight.

"Harley. Dude, wake up."

That seemed to do the trick, and Harley inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes tightly shut before blinking rapidly, and trying to focus on Peter. "Pete. Hi."

"Hi yourself." Peter sank back into the soft couch, throwing an arm over his eyes. "How's it going?"

"Uh..." Harley yawned hugely, waving a hand vaguely. "He got here about... what time is it?"

"Eight fifty."

"Just before eight. He got here, they've been in there ever since."

"They?"

"Tony, Happy, the doctor... they said he'll be okay. You should tell them you're here."

Peter lifted one shoulder, sinking back into the couch.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in thought, before Peter felt something nudge his ankle.

"Did you hear about the mathematician who was afraid of negative numbers?"

Peter grinned tiredly. "No?"

"He'll stop at nothing to avoid them."

"That was horrible."

Harley pressed his foot to Peter's ankle. "Made you laugh, didn't it?"

"Debatable. Does a nose exhale count as a laugh?"

"I mean..." Harley stared at the ceiling. "Okay. You've got me there."

They lapsed into silence for several minutes before Peter gave a small huff of laughter. "I've got one. What do you do with a sick scientist?"

"Do tell."

"If you can't helium, and you can't curium, then you might as well barium."

"Oh my god, Parker."

Peter giggled helplessly, curling his arms around his midsection. "A moment of science, please, for our fallen friend."

"Shut up dude."

"Chemistry is like cooking," Peter held up a finger. "Just don't lick the spoon"

"Your jokes are worse than mine! And that's saying something."

Peter dropped his arm, sitting up with a joke on the tip of his tongue that died away when he saw the immediate concern on Harley's face.

"What?"

"You look like crap dude."

"Wow, thanks. Tell it like it is, why don't you?"

"I'm serious." Harley frowned worriedly. "What happened?"

"Captain America hit me in the face with his shield."

"Jeez."

Peter lifted one shoulder, forgetting about the bruised ribs, and winced.

Harley's frown deepened. "And that?"

"A giant dude smacked me into a stack of wooden crates."

"Anything else I should know about?"

Peter grinned innocently, standing. "Nope."

He stepped over to the desk, giving his name and who he was there to visit.

The nurse on duty took down his name with a raised eyebrow, but didn't say anything, which he was grateful for.

Harley threw his hands up with a resigned sigh, slumping back into the cushion. "I give up. I'm just going to let Happy deal with you."

After about half an hour of waiting, interspersed with jokes and science facts from Harley's seemingly never-ending supply, the nurse called Peter's name.

"Freakin finally," Harley muttered.

Peter approached the door with trepidation, ducking through with Harley only a step behind him.

Tony was in bed, looking tired, a bit the worse for wear, but alive.

His face was severely bruised, and his left arm was in a cast, with bandages peeking out the top of his shirt, and a breathing cannula under his nose, but his eyes lit up when he saw Peter.

"Hey kiddo."

Peter smiled wryly, stepping closer. "Hey. That looks worrisome. How are you feeling?"

Tony narrowed his eyes at Happy, standing at the end of the bed. "I'd be happier if I could have cheeseburgers, but apparently, I need rest and relaxation, not fast food."

"Doctors orders," Harley said cheerily.

"I don't have to listen to this, you gremlin," Tony said

"Actually you do," Harley rebutted, "because I'm your babysitter now."

Tony turned a horror-filled gaze on Peter, and he had to bite his lip to stop the laugh. "Sorry dad. I don't make the rules."

"You're both gremlins," Tony said tiredly. "There's no hope for either of you."

"A moment of science, please," Peter began, the corners of his mouth quirking up at the stifled snort from Harley. "For our fallen friend."

"Oh my god Parker. I'm disowning you."

"Too late. I've already taken over Friday and established my reign as the one true heir. There's no stopping me now."

Tony shook his head ruefully, turning a pleading look on Happy. "Help a pal out?"

"They're your kids, not mine."

"Traitor."













Thoughts?

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