Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

On New Year’s Day, Peter’s life seemingly began again.

-

Okay, so, the thing is, Harley might be the only one in the world who remembers Peter Parker.

Harley hadn’t meant to be off-world for so long. (Well really, he hadn’t meant to go off-world at all - but, when aliens invade your small town in Tennessee, and then Captain Marvel comes down from the sky asking you to join her, you can’t really say “no.”)

It had been a crazy two years, and Harley had never been more relieved than to have his boots digging into the asphalt of the runway he landed on. He’d almost forgotten how fresh and clipped Earth air was as it blew on his bare face. The unrelenting tang and coppery singe of other ozones was one of Harley’s least favorite things about space - that, and how many fucking bounty hunters there were. That particular rant, though, was something Harley didn’t have time for.

It was two days after Christmas, and warm enough in Tennessee that Harley shrugged off his jacket. He made his way to Jack’s Diner, which was still standing. Harley was relatively positive Jack’s ole diner could survive a nuclear holocaust. The booth in the back corner that was littered with rips in the upholstery was open, and Harley nearly keeled over as he settled into the booth.

Miss Debra-Anne who’d been serving Harley ever since his Ma had dragged them there every Wednesday night and Saturday morning gave him her usual stink-eye, but ambled her way over, deeply unimpressed. The pot of coffee she was carrying was steaming.

“Harley,” She intoned in her gravelly smoker-voice. “Lord help your Momma if you’re back.”

Harley grinned at her. “You know my Ma has no other entertainment without me around.” He drummed his fingers against the table.

Miss Debra hummed. “I can see you still barely fit in the booth, string bean.” She used her order pad to smack at his Chuck’s that he’d thrown up and onto the other side of the booth. “Get your feet down, I know your Momma didn’t raise you in no barn, even if you act like it.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harley replied politely; a warmth settling over him at the familiarity, one he hadn’t felt in nearly two years. He cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you.”

Miss Debra’s face softened, just for a second, before she was training her gaze back down to her pad. “I’m guessing you want the usual?”

“The whole Keener breakfast, yes ma’am,” Harley said with full charm.

Miss Debra rolled her eyes fondly, and filled Harley’s mug with hot coffee from her pot before swishing off, probably to yell his order to Dave or Eddy. Harley took a deep breath, letting his bones rest for the first time in what felt like months.

The salt and pepper shakers on the table looked exactly as Harley remembered, pushed up against the few inches of wall under the booth’s windowsill. He picked out four packets of sweet-n-low and dumped them into his coffee. The first sip of coffee after two years without it scalded his tongue, and was completely worth it.

Harley had thought he was classier, but he’d done a lot of self-exploration hopping through every galaxy that Carol had dragged him through, and it turned out the prospect of whoring himself out for some coffee, or even better, a Dr. Pepper, wasn’t a line for him. Sue him.

Harley drank half of his cup down in one go, and then mentally scanned all the people in the diner. He couldn’t help but get the feeling that something was off.

While he waited on his food, he switched the battery in his track phone. His old phone was back at his house, and he’d have to use it to tell everyone he was home. Later, though. First, he had to call Abbie, and then his Ma. He knew Abbie’s number by heart, and really hoped that she hadn’t decided to change her number in two years.

Before Harley could type in her number, Miss Debra slid Harley’s breakfast onto the table. The chicken and waffles were steaming, and the side of eggs had heaping portions of sausage and bacon piled high on the side. When she sat down the bottle of Tabasco sauce by his plate, Harley was ready to propose.

“You’re too good to me,” Harley waxed dramatically. All other thoughts gone except for the feast of breakfast food in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Miss Debra dismissed. But, Harley didn’t miss the twitch of a smile that came across her chestnut-painted lips. Harley couldn’t recall a time when she didn’t have on her signature lipstick and small gold hoops.

Harley quickly dug in, feeling like he’d been starved for years. Well, technically he had been. There were a lot of different foods in space, but Carol was militant, and they mostly survived on rations. There had been a few times on Earth-related planets where Carol had let him try memory diners, but it was never quite the same.

This, though? Harley had seen God, and she had a hat flipped on backwards and was tearing it up on a skateboard. This breakfast was the best breakfast Harley had ever had in his life.

Once he had practically licked his plate clean and drank enough coffee to kill a priest, he grabbed onto his track phone and dialed Abbie’s number.

She answered after a few rings, confused, and a little tentative. “Hello…?”

“Guess who’s back!?” Harley decided on, and snickered when he heard Abbie’s gasp from the other line.

“Harley?!” She exclaimed, but recovered in no time. “You bitch!”

“Watch who you’re calling a bitch, bitch,” Harley retorted. He cleared his throat. It was good to hear Abbie’s voice after so long away. Really good. Every once in a while Harley figured out how to send digital messages to her, but connecting stations were few and far in-between, especially when they were doing missions and were trying to be incognito for most of it.

“Are you really back?” Abbie asked softly. Harley was jolted back to two years ago, when he had told Abbie and his Mom about what he had to do.

He and Abbie had sat on their old swing set in their backyard. They had both since long outgrown it, but it was nice to look at the stars.

“Are you really leaving?” She had asked, in that same quiet tone.

“I have to, Babs,” Harley said, his eyes trained on the big dipper. “I have to.”

Returning to the present, Harley steeled himself.

“I don’t know how long for,” He had to be honest. “But, yeah. I’m back.”

“Guess I better tell Mom,” Abbie said, and Harley could hear her smile without even having to see it.

“I’m gonna call MJ, and Ned, and umm…Peter too while I’m on my way over,” Harley said casually, giving Miss Debra his thousand-watt smile as she slid the paper bill over to him.

“Right,” Abbie replied, suddenly sounding off.

“What’s up?” Harley asked, distracted by getting some of the spare cash Carol had given him out of his pocket.

“Just,” Abbie said uncertainly. “Who are MJ, and Ned? Harley? Who’s Peter?”

Harley took his phone away from his ear, glancing at it with complete bewilderment.

Okay. Something was really wrong here.

-

Harley spent the next hour frantically googling and searching the internet for any history of Peter Parker.

There was none.

Eventually, he found MJ and Ned’s social media, and scrolled through all of their pictures with an ever-growing feeling of dread filling his stomach. Peter wasn’t in a single one. Even in the ones where Harley remembered him being present.

He went through his own social media, which hadn’t been used in years, and found the same result.

His account wasn’t following MJ’s, which was another weird detail. She allowed public DMs, so he shot her a message.

“Hey, where’s Peter?” He settled on, feeling like an absolute nimrod.

Thankfully, she only took a few minutes to reply.

“Uhhhhhhh Peter who” came her reply. Harley didn’t know what to say, so he just blocked her.

Instead of having a panic attack, he decided to call Carol. She’d given him a transponder for emergencies. He figured this constituted one.

“Okay, I know you miss me already,” Carol’s usual snark came through, “But it’s been like a max of three hours, Keener. C’mon.”

“You remember Peter Parker, right?” Harley got out.

He was expecting Carol to make a joke, but she paused. Harley rarely lost his cool, it was why they made a good team. She must have caught on right away that this was serious, given how frazzled Harley sounded.

“Of course I do. I only had to hear you drone on and on about how he’s so smart, and so funny, and cute, and-

“Right, okay!” Harley cut her off. “Well, we have a problem.”

“Keener, it’s been two years, y’know, and I told you he might not-”

“No! It’s not- Danvers, he’s gone. No one remembers him, and it’s like he never existed at all. I can’t find any tangible record of him anywhere.”

“Okay, that’s- that’s a little weird. I definitely remember the kid.” Carol admitted, now sounding appropriately spooked herself. “You know I can’t turn around from where I’m going.”

“I know,” Harley said, and rubbed at his temples. “What should I do?”

“Try to find him,” Carol said with authority. “If you can’t by the time I come back around, I’ll make a pit stop and we’ll figure it out.

“Okay, copy,” Harley said, taking a deep breath and turning off his transponder.

He sent out a text to Abbie, briefly feeling guilty for ditching them when he hadn’t seen them in two years. But, he had bigger fish to fry, mainly, whoever the fuck erased Peter Parker.

-

Harley got on the first Greyhound bus to New York. He’d stopped at Best Buy and Walmart to buy the few things that he was going to need. Then, he strapped in for the 13-hour ride.

If he thought that sleeping in a crushed cryo-chamber with Carol that one time (that they swore they would both never talk about again) was bad, he had completely forgotten about the Greyhound experience.

Luckily, he survived, and got off his stop near Queens, on Grand Central Parkway. The first time he’d ever gone into the city, one of Tony’s black Audis had picked him up, which he hated. Peter had made sure that he and May were the ones who sent Harley off and back to Tennessee.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he trekked down the street. New York, for him, was synonymous with a lot of things, the hustle and bustle of every man and woman on a mission, the smell of car exhaust that never truly went away, and the constant array of noises that seemed to come from every direction. However, the one thing that made New York stand out from all the other cities he’d ever been to, was the fact that no other city had its own Peter Parker.

Normally, he’d debate breaking into Tony’s penthouse. It was easy enough, and he had a plethora of override codes hidden by himself for nearly any occasion.

But, if Ned and MJ didn’t know who Peter was, Harley didn’t even want to think about SI without his influence.

So, Harley walked to Flushing, until he saw the flat roof and unimposing building he knew to be the Hillcrest library. Peter had taken him there to study a few times, while Harley had mainly distracted him. Now, Harley supposed, with a fizzling of hysteria in his chest, that it was his time to actually be on task.

He set up his Wi-Fi router from Best Buy - it was junky, but it’d do the job. He disengaged the hardwiring of the tower and monitor, and hooked them up to the connection of his router. Now, he could go wherever he wanted.

He spent most of the day trying to find any trace of Peter Parker’s existence once-so-ever. By the time he got any leads at all, the sun was setting and the librarians were beginning to give him the side-eye.

He carefully rerouted the computer back to its original library network and packed up his things. He gave the librarian two dollars so that he could print everything he needed. Once he had it all set, he was on his way.

So, Peter Parker no longer existed.

But, he did find a GED certification that was tied to an address in Queens, given to a Peter De Luca. He also found an enrollment at Empire State to none other than the same Peter De Luca. It could be a coincidence, but from what Harley could remember, he was pretty sure that had been May’s maiden name.

As Harley walked down the street and crisscrossed through the different intersections, he couldn’t help but notice that the apartment building wasn’t too far from the apartment Peter and May had rented the longest. Harley really didn’t know what the fuck was going on, though, he did feel a little bit closer to finding some answers.

And like, okay, Harley wasn’t a criminal, but he was allowed to find some joy in a good old-fashioned B&E.

After reading the names on the buzzers and figuring out the floors, Harley pieced together that Peter’s apartment was on the top floor, and probably had direct access to the roof. Harley snickered to himself once he figured it out. Leave it to Peter to be predictable despite all the other crazy shit going on.

Harley didn’t have any of his gear that he’d left on the ship, and he hadn’t thought he was going to need any for this “mission”. He mentally surveyed the fire escapes and steeled himself. Well, Carol didn’t call him her little climber boy for nothing.

He climbed up the 15 different fire escapes, until he reached the top floor - Peter’s floor.

Now if he knew Peter, which he did, he was sure that he’d never lock a window in his life. After he got into a good positioning to look at the window without falling to his death, he peered in at the apartment. It honestly didn’t look like much.

There was a bed in the corner with rumpled sheets, and a desk on the other side with a few books on it. As soon as Harley saw some legos and a Star Wars poster, though, he knew he’d found the right place. Now, waiting for Peter to get home and knocking on his front door would be the rational thing to do. However, rational, wasn’t really Harley’s style.

He got his fingers under the window and pushed up. He was relieved when the window gave way immediately. Once it was open as far as he could get it, Harley shimmied his way through, until he landed in an ungraceful heap on Peter’s floor.

He didn’t know how long he was gonna have to be there for, so he made himself at home. He glanced around and couldn’t get over how empty the apartment felt. If it weren’t for the little touches that made it indescribably Peter, Harley would have thought he got the wrong place.

He got his without-a-doubt confirmation when he found a broken webshooter in one of the desk drawers. It looked like Peter had started to repair it before giving up. Harley traced over the part that was fried with his finger. Hell, he didn’t have anything else to do.

-

Harley could admit that you’re probably not the best burglar if you fall asleep on the job. But, it had been several hours, and he’d long since fixed the webshooter back to brand new. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep on top of Peter’s bed, but it just sort of happened.

He was startled awake to what sounded like fucking Santa and his Reindeer on the roof. He blinked blearily, trying to take stock of his surroundings, when suddenly Peter came flying through the window.

“Uh, hey,” Harley said groggily, rubbing at his eyes.

Peter, of course, immediately flew up to the ceiling after letting out a high-pitched scream.

“It’s great to see you, too,” Harley said dryly, as he sat up in Peter’s bed.

Peter let himself fall, and landed on his feet with his usual amount of grace.

“You-” He backed up until he hit his desk. “Harley?”

“The one and only,” Harley quipped.

Peter took off his mask. He still looked the same, except his hair was a little bit longer and there was more tightness around his eyes. One thing he knew was that he didn’t like how spooked Peter seemed to be.

“I fixed your webshooter by the way, Parker,” Harley said, and watched as Peter flinched at the nickname he’d always used.

“So, you-” Peter said tentatively, his eyes wide at Harley like he was an alien. “You remember me?”

“You’re hard to forget,” Harley replied, and cleared his throat after his voice wavered. “So, nobody knows who you are anymore? What’s up with that?”

It only took two seconds for Peter to come barreling towards him, nearly taking him out. Peter wrapped his arms around him in a vice grip, and suddenly Harley had an entire lapful of Peter Parker.

“I missed you,” Peter sobbed into his shoulder, and Harley couldn’t help but tighten his grip on him.

“Missed you, too,” Harley admitted. He kept hold of him until he wasn’t shaking as much. “So, Parker, you gonna fill me in?”

-

Chapter Text

"I will come back from the dead for you."

- Richard Siken

-

Harley didn’t sleep, but he was used to keeping watch. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when his mission brain had switched on, and it didn’t matter; he was on, and he was going to wade them out of this mess.

He checked through Peter’s apartment, which wasn’t very secure, though he supposed when you were Spiderman, there weren’t many burglars to fear. He made sure it was secure anyways, as it gave him something to do.

When Peter started wriggling around in his sleep, Harley turned on the burner on the stove, and got out a frying pan for some eggs.

He’d gotten into the groove of it, and Peter was so silent on his feet, that he about gave him a heart attack when he posted up behind him.

“Are you making eggs?” Peter asked, his eyes wide and full of wonder. Yeah, so Harley’s first instincts to feed the kid were spot on. Peter was meant to be wiry, but he wasn’t meant to be as skinny as Harley was.

“You don’t even have any Tobasco sauce,” Harley recovered quickly, scooping some of the eggs that had jumped ship at his flinching back into the pan.

Peter made a face that had Harley holding back a laugh. “Well, if I knew I was going to have visitors,” He said, in a silly wizard voice. “I would have prepared the cottage.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just-” Harley started, but Peter cut him off by raising his hand. “If you say put jelly on them I’m puking then suing for emotional duress.”

“Put a fuck ton of salt on ‘em,” Harley finished slyly, shooting Peter a devious wink.

This felt good, and like the whole world wasn’t simultaneously crumbling on top of them.

“You’re safe another day,” Harley quipped, as he dumped the steaming eggs onto two plates. “Wouldn’t wanna cause you any emotional duress there, darlin’.”

Peter went over to one of the drawers that was exceedingly empty, and managed to brandish two forks. Harley took his, while Peter immediately stabbed into his plate of eggs. “I didn’t even know I had eggs,” Peter said around a yellowy-mouthful.

“You didn’t,” Harley replied. “I used some of my ‘back home money’ stash and got a few things from the bodega down the street.”

“Harley, you didn’t have to-” Peter began, as Harley knew he would.

“Uh, uh,” Harley cut him off. “I’ve been on space rations for the past, I don’t even fucking wanna count, I wanted some food and I got some food. You’re just lucky I’m nice enough to cook some for you too.” Harley defended, avoiding Peter’s gaze.

It was thinly veiled, but if it got food in Peter, he’d take it.

“You know,” Peter said, and let out a self-deprecating laugh, one that was more hollow than Harley remembered. “I kind of didn’t expect you to be here when I woke up.”

Harley moved some of his eggs around on his plate, suddenly less ravenous than he’d been before. “Oh, I’m here,” He said with meaning, for lack of anything else to say. “And-” He continued dramatically, “I called in the cavalry.”

Peter’s eyes widened a fraction, before they dissipated. “You called in the Avengers? But- Harls, they don’t remember me.”

Harley steadfastly ignored how his stomach flipped at being called ‘Harls’ again, after so long. “Even better, Parker,” then Harley gave him a wink, turning on all his charm. “I got you the best one, and she remembers your existence.”

Peter was positively slack-jawed. “You called Carol?” He asked, his voice barely above a disbelieving whisper.

“‘Course I did, Parker,” Harley said easily. “The greater good of humanity’s at stake.”

“How does she remember me?” Peter wondered out loud.

“Probably the same reason I do,” Harley said with a shrug. “I guess ole Strange’s powers don’t go too far past this planet,” He paused then. “Or galaxy,” He amended thoughtfully. “Plus,” He got up from his seat to start rummaging through his backpack that he brought everywhere. Carol had gotten it enchanted as a birthday present when they were on Tuhrru, so it was literally indestructible.

It took him a few moments of digging, but he eventually pulled out his slightly crumpled-up picture - the one he’d stuck on the bunker wall above his bed, as a reminder. It had been taken one of the summers that Harley had visited New York. Tony of all people had caught them hanging out, Ned, MJ, Harley, and Peter, a tangle of limbs smooshed onto one couch. Peter was asleep, MJ was covering her face, Ned was cheesing, and Harley had given a middle finger to the camera. It was one of the happiest memories he had.

“This was in my bunk,” Harley said, showing Peter the picture. “Like I said, pretty hard to forget.”

Before Harley could say anything else, Peter's arms came up to wrap him in a hug.

“I missed you,” He breathed into Harley’s shoulder.

Harley’s hands came up to rest along his back, holding him tight. “I know you did,” He murmured softly. “I know. I missed you too, Parker.”

Once Peter pulled back, Harley cleared his throat, attempting to get back to all business.

“Now, before Carol gets here, I think it’s time to go harass a doctor.”

-

“Harley,” Peter started, as they stood outside the steps of the Sanctum. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Harley snorted. “You can’t just quote Star Wars to get me to change my mind.”

Peter shook his head. “This is exactly what got me into this mess.”

“Well,” Harley said, turning so he walked backwards up a few steps and faced Peter, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Sometimes the only way out is to go back in.”

Peter sighed heavily, but followed him into the Sanctum. It looked more like how Harley remembered it, and less of the snow-laden tundra that Peter had described when he last visited.

Sparks began flying at the top of the steps, and Harley fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Dr. Strange stepped out from a portal, looking as regal and ridiculous as ever. He surveyed both of the boys, and began leisurely making his way down the steps.

“Harley Keener,” He stated. His eyes then shifted over to Peter. “And entourage.”

“Yeah, see, Dr. Weird, that’s kind of the problem.” Harley snarked, and kept going, even after he felt Peter tense beside him. “You cast a spell that made the entire world forget Peter Parker.”

Dr. Strange took a beat. “I don’t know who that is.”

Harley snapped his fingers. “Exactly my point.” He gestured over at Peter. “This is Peter. Spiderman. Greatest superhero of our generation, and you erased him.”

Harley hadn’t realized quite how mad he was until he was standing in front of the person who had made Peter cry his first day back, and who knew how many other times. He took a few steps forward, his combat boots clanking against the expansive floor of the Sanctum.

“So you are gonna do a spell that fixes it,” Harley finished, and punctuated it by crossing his arms.

“Well,” Dr. Strange said, blinking slowly. “We’ll see about that.”

-

“I can’t find any remnants of magic on him,” Dr. Strange said with a sigh, after propping Peter up on a table and examining his ‘magical aura’.

Harley huffed. “Well, there has to be. You cast a spell.”

Dr. Strange tsked. “I’m not getting anything. The only thing I’m getting is radiation, in fact, I’m getting lots of radiation.” He furrowed his brows. “Kid, are you alright?”

“It’s a part of my powers,” Peter said meekly. “I was bitten by a radioactive spider.”

“We already know he’s Cherynobl,” Harley said, and this time did roll his eyes. “Isn’t there a counterspell you can do if you can’t reverse it?”

“Layering magic makes things messier,” Dr. Strange corrected. “It’s easier to reverse than to cast a new one that might have…adverse side effects,” He said, hesitating over the last two words. He pondered Peter’s frame thoughtfully. “There is one thing I haven’t checked-”

He fluttered around, giving Harley nor Peter any further information. He summoned a book with his hand and frantically flipped through a few pages. “Ah!” He exclaimed before turning his attention back to Peter. “Now this might make you feel a little woozy, or disconnected from your body. But, the important part is to not resist.”

“Okay, that shouldn’t be too h-AUGH!” Peter began, and was cut off with a startled ‘oomph’, that would have made Harley laugh if he wasn’t too preoccupied with being concerned.

Dr. Strange thrust out his hand, sending a beam of light into Peter’s chest, which pulled out a glowing rainbow orb. If Harley hadn’t seen enough shit to make even the sanest fucker want a lobotomy, his head probably would have exploded. He really didn’t like the fact that Dr. Strange seemed able to whip Peter’s entire soul out of his body.

Dr. Strange tutted and moved the orb of energy around in his hand before he violently threw it back into Peter’s body.

Peter was immediately back to consciousness and gasped like his head had just been held under water. Harley rushed over to him as he keeled over, and supported his weight. “Holy fuck, what was that?” Peter gasped, out of breath.

“Doctor?” Harley inquired through gritted teeth.

“Well, boys,” Dr. Strange said. “I have good news and bad news.”

Harley really wanted to strangle him.

“The bad news is, only one thing can reverse the spell cast.” Dr. Strange informed them, his voice grave.

“The good news?” Peter asked, still winded.

“A single entity who loves you and has pure intentions can put you back into the world’s collective consciousness.” Dr. Strange finished, sweeping his hand out to return the book he’d taken.

“Oh,” Peter said, his voice small and gutted. “I think- I think I might be sick. I need, a- just give me a minute.” He hurled himself up and out of the room. Harley went to go follow him, but Dr. Strange grabbed his arm.

“I think that means without you, kid.”

Harley shrugged him off, but listened to him, despite every instinct in him screaming at him to go check on him. Ever since he’d learned the entire world had forgotten about him, he hadn’t wanted to let Peter out of his sight. He knew a little piece of that was his fear that Peter would suddenly disappear too, taking all his proof and memories with him.

After a few minutes of silence, Dr. Strange spoke up. “Look, I don’t know the extent of your relationship, but it seems to be that you care a great deal for Peter.”

Harley waited for the shoe to drop, but Dr. Strange left it at that.

Harley was going to ask what exactly he meant by that, however, he was interrupted by Peter opening the door and coming back into the room.

“I think, uh, I think we should go,” Peter said, mainly looking at Harley.

“Okay,” Harley said easily, shooting Dr. Strange another glance.

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Strange,” Peter said endearingly, in the way that only he could. “We really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, thanks Doc,” Harley said after Peter cleared his throat in his direction.

“Let me know if you boys need any further guidance. The door in always open.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, though was cut off by Dr. Strange opening a portal and leaving them alone in the room.

Harley let silence hang over the room for an entire minute before he couldn’t help himself, and said, “Well, at least we got an answer.”

“Don’t,” Peter bit out, sounding strangled. He looked away from Harley, his mouth set in a grim line. “There has to be another way.”

Now it was Harley’s turn to repeat Peter’s tone from before. “Peter.” He ran his fingers through his hair before taking a few steps forward, so they were only about a foot apart. His eyes scanned over Peter’s face trying to get a read on him, but it was somewhat of a lost cause.

He toned his voice down, so it was much softer, and asked, “What’s going through your head, Parker?”

Peter let out a choked breath that teetered on a sob, then twisted his body further, so he wasn’t facing Harley at all.

“It was May,” Peter eventually whispered.

Then it clicked for Harley.

May was probably the only person in the world that Peter had who’d fit the bill. And she was gone.

Harley sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, and backed away a step. He chose his next words carefully out of respect for Aunt May.

“Then we’ll find another way.”

Those made Peter shift so he was facing Harley once again. “Really?”

“This isn’t hopeless.” Harley told him, and put the full force of what remaining optimism he had in his gangly six-foot-plus frame into his next words. “Listen to me, we’re both ‘a million to one kids’, alright? You’ve got me, and you’ve got Carol. If anyone can fix this it’s us.”

Peter’s eyes were red, however, he still looked up at Harley from the cot with the same amount of wonder that he always did - and it made something in Harley’s chest crack and fizzle, just like it always did with him.

“How do you have so much faith in me?”

Harley grinned, ‘cause the answer to that one was the easiest he’d ever have to answer. “Because you’re fucking Peter Parker.” His grin widened deviously at Peter’s responding bark of a laugh. “And Spider-Man is pretty cool too.”

Chapter Text

────────────────────────────────────

“The work of memory collapses time.”

— Walter Benjamin

────────────────────────────────────

Carol stared at Peter, unimpressed.

“Yeah, no, I don’t remember him,” She said eventually, and Peter noticeably deflated.

“You’ve met!” Harley crowed indignantly; he couldn’t believe she was betraying him like this.

“It’s all very fuzzy,” Carol defended with a wave of her hand. “I feel like I should know you, but everything’s coming up blank.”

“Well, this is great,” Harley grumbled, and eyed Peter warily.

Carol rolled her eyes. “I’m still going to help, losers.” She crossed her arms, getting into her usual position where she was ready to listen. “What did Strange say?”

“Only someone with pure intentions who loves me can put me back into the collective consciousness,” Peter parroted, though he sounded defeated. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this if nobody remembers me.”

“There has to be someone,” Harley argued, irritated. He didn’t like how everyone was suddenly in a standstill.

Carol gave him a look.

Harley tightened his lips into a thin line and shook his head, to which Carol rolled her eyes again.

“I need some air,” Peter said suddenly, and walked over to the window.

Carol’s expression turned pensive out of the corner of Harley’s eye. “Hey, kiddo,” She prompted in the gentlest voice Harley had ever heard her use, clearly directed at Peter. “Would you mind if I took ‘ole H-bomb over here out for a little walk?”

Harley opened his mouth to protest, but Peter cut him off, his voice tight. “Yeah, catch-up. I just— need some time to think, I guess.”

Carol nodded sagely. “C’mon, Keener.”

“Are you sure?” Harley asked, ignoring Carol.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Peter said, but he did glance away from the window and over to Carol. “Just. She might want to change?”

Carol laughed shortly and clicked a few buttons on her wrist, which morphed her suit into a black pants and matching motorcycle jacket ensemble. “I never come unprepared.”

“Alright, Danvers, you ever see the sights in Queens?” Harley snarked, still wary over Peter’s sulky demeanor.

“No, but it’s gotta be better than Catthro,” She quipped right back, entirely unphased.

Harley had to hold back a shudder at the memory. “A vat of toxic waste would be better than Catthro,” He agreed, leading her out the door. “We’ll be back,” He told Peter seriously before he closed it behind them.

They got down the stairs and three blocks away from Peter’s apartment before Carol graced Harley with any of her thoughts — none of them pressing.

“New York still has hot dog carts, right? That’s still a thing?” She asked, peering around almost cartoonishly.

“Five more blocks,” Harley responded, a little stiffly, still waiting for her to get to the point. Leaving Peter alone made him twitchy. Realistically, he knew that Peter had been alone for who knows how long before he came back. He didn’t like thinking about that, though.

They continued to walk in silence, eventually making it to the hot dog cart Harley promised. He handed the guy manning the cart four dollars before Carol could get the chance.

They settled onto a random street bench, where Carol wolfed down half of her hot dog. Harley took a bite of his own, mainly for something to do.

“Okay, so, I know fuck all about fairy tales, I was never really into them as a kid,” Carol said with no preamble, leaning back into a more relaxed position on the bench.

“Right,” Harley said, starting to get a little annoyed.

“But from what I’ve heard,” Carol continued unfazed, “This sounds like a true love’s kiss kind of thing, doesn’t it?”

Harley blinked at her.

“Doesn’t it?” She pressed with more enthusiasm.

“Danvers, we don’t have time for this shit,” Harley hissed. “This isn’t something to fuck around with. This is Peter’s life.”

“I know that,” Carol hissed back. She threw her hot dog wrapper into the trash bin next to their bench. “Look, I don’t remember meeting him, but one thing I didn’t forget is that you’re in love with him,” She said matter-of-factly.

“And what does that have to do with anything?!” Harley exclaimed, feeling caught out. He had only told Carol that in strict confidence, after a way too close to disaster mission that left them both feeling shaken and exposed. He certainly didn’t need it thrown in his face at a time like this.

“There’s a reason you remember him,” She said meaningfully. “No one else in the world knows this kid, not me, not his friends, not anyone else. But you do,” She finished, poking his chest with her finger. “That means something, Keener.”

Harley scoffed, but could hear the blood rushing through his ears at what she was implying.

“You heard what Strange said.” She pointed out. “And I can’t think of anyone whose love is as pure and true as yours, Romeo.”

“And how exactly does that help us?” Harley snapped, not denying it, however. “Do I just scream to the universe that I’m in love with Peter Parker? That really sounds like a foolproof plan.”

Carol rolled her eyes. “The true love’s kiss, Keener.”

“That ain’t ever going to happen,” Harley told her, fixating his gaze on a few of the people passing by. “We need to come up with an actual plan.”

“Do you know that?” She argued right back, not giving him an inch — which she never did.

Harley pinched the bridge of his nose before choosing his next words carefully. “What I do know,” he began slowly, “Is that Peter has had his life turned upside down, and has no one else in the world. Now isn’t the time for my … feelings,” he said that last word as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “And I certainly don’t need to manipulate him in a desperate state. He’s too polite.” Harley laughed darkly, then. “We’d be married with kids before he’d ever get up the courage to tell me he’s never been in love with me.”

“Keener—“

“No!” Harley cut her off forcefully. “If I’m the only one, I don’t want it to be because I’m all he has. It ain’t right.”

Carol seemed to figure out that she wasn’t going to make any headway. She blew out a breath.

“Okay, fine, have it your way.” She conceded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Harley finished his hot dog and threw his own wrapper away. When he sat back down on the bench, he noticed Carol’s body was turned, looking at something down the street. Harley followed her gaze to a run-down sign advertising palm readings in a cursive, deep maroon font.

“You know,” She said thoughtfully, a hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. “I think I might know someone else who could help us.”

“Who—“

“Someone who’s even more powerful than Strange,” Carol finished cryptically, already leaping up from the bench. “C’mon,” She said, hastily forcing Harley up and back onto the sidewalk. “Let’s go get Parker. I think it’s time for a little field trip.”

—

Peter’s eyes had been as wide as saucers when Carol hastily filled them in on who they were going to be tracking down.

He had agreed readily, though. What did he really have to lose? Harley was certainly fresh out of ideas that weren’t mortifying or nightmare-inducing.

Renting the car was honestly the hardest part.

Neither Peter nor Harley were old enough. Since when did they change the minimum age to twenty-five? Luckily, Carol had a fake ID from past return trips to Earth; it was old and pretty faded. She had to flirt a little with the guy at the desk to get the paperwork squared away, which made them all a bit uncomfortable, mainly Harley, who had to hold back a gag.

Eventually, they all piled into a silver glinting Honda Civic. Harley would have probably been more comfortable riding shotgun, with more room to stretch out his long, gangly legs, but he climbed into the back with Peter before there were any other thoughts.

Peter whispered to Harley while Carol fiddled with the car’s GPS. “I thought Wanda was dead?”

Harley drew his eyebrows together, “Why?” he whispered back.

“Well, there was that whole ‘Avengers training’ thing gone wrong last year,” Peter explained, using his fingers to air quote. “It was all over the news, and everyone reported that she was dead.”

Harley shot a brief glance up to Carol in the driver’s seat, not paying them any mind, then fixed his gaze back to Peter. “People in our line of work tend to have a habit of not staying dead.”

Peter looked like he wanted to say something else, but then firmly pressed his lips together.

“I trust Carol with my life,” Harley said with as much meaning as he could convey while still whispering. “If she has a plan, she has a plan.”

Harley decided not to mention how many of their collective plans usually led to them narrowly escaping the jaws of death. It didn’t seem like the time. Plus, death had never quite caught up to them, so that had to count for something. He wondered if he should reveal to Peter that he had actually met death before; an unsuspectingly nice lady with a penchant for green, but again, he sensed now wasn’t really the time.

Peter was spooked enough already.

“Okay!” Carol spoke up suddenly, back to her usual jovial self. She turned to face them fully. “Parker, you ever make it over the pond to Jersey?”

“Jersey?” Peter squeaked, at the same time Harley groaned. Peter frantically made eyes at him.

“It’s always fucking Jersey,” Harley quipped, as Carol gave him a sly smile and revved the engine.

-

It was only later, about an hour and a half into their drive, while Carol was distracted, that Harley explained softly to Peter. “We have this joke that most dying planets just look a lot like Jersey.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times. “And what…do the live ones look like?”

Harley couldn’t help his sideways grin. God, how he’d missed him. He never skipped a beat. “Vegas.”

The laugh that escaped Peter was loud and startled, but it lit up his entire face, crinkling his eyes in their corners. Harley couldn’t help but notice how many more lines there were than he remembered, paired with a slightly hardened resolve that he almost hadn’t recognized. But when Peter was smiling like that? He was still Parker, through and through.

—

By the time their car rolled to a stop at an innocent-looking apple orchard, Peter had dozed off, his head resting on Harley’s shoulder. Harley didn’t have the heart to move him.

Harley did eventually shake his leg a bit, causing him to nearly bolt upright, his breath fast and panicked as he took stock of the car and where he was.

Harley raised his hands out in front of him, almost on instinct, like he was calming an animal ready for attack.

“Sorry,” Peter got out, breathless and clearly rattled.

“It’s okay,” Harley murmured. “We’re um,” he gestured out the window. “Here, I guess?”

Carol opened the driver's door and took a step out, her hands resting on the top of it as she surveyed their surroundings. “I think she’s definitely here,” Carol called back to them.

Harley opened his own door, but waited patiently for Peter to do the same. “Does your…” Harley started, looking for the right words. “Sense thing still work?”

A dark cloud hovered over Peter’s expression, but only for a moment. “Sometimes,” he grumbled after a second.

Harley definitely had questions, however, those could wait for later.

They all got out of the car proper. Harley watched as Peter took a few hesitant steps towards the orchard, then stopped, his eyes closed, and lips pressed together in deep concentration. Even with the new lines and darker demeanor, he was still so pretty that Harley had to work to get the thought out of his mind. They didn’t have time for Harley’s useless pining.

Suddenly, Peter’s face cleared, and he reeled around to peer at them with astonishment.

“She’s here,” He said, like he really hadn’t believed them in the first place at all. It was fair. Harley only had his faith from the amount of unbelievable shit he’d seen with his own two eyes. “I can feel her magic. It’s like,” He paused, waving his hands around wildly. “A low sizzling in my head.”

“Like fajitas?” Harley couldn’t help but say. Carol and Peter both shot him a glare. Great, now they were teaming up on him. “Right, not the time for jokes.”

“Parker,” Carol said, taking on her team captain voice. “Can you feel where the magic’s coming from?”

“It’s not,” Peter started, then sighed, affronted. He walked towards the seemingly never-ending rows of apple trees. “It’s everywhere.”

He stopped short at a particular tree. He reached forward, ever so slowly, and gently picked off a leaf. As soon as he did, the leaf changed from green to a holographic scarlet red that seemed to flicker in and out of existence itself.

“Well, that’s probably not good,” Harley muttered under his breath.

“Who are you?” A female voice said from behind them.

They all rapidly spun to the direction the voice was coming from and were met with the sight of a woman with faded strawberry hair leaning against their car, arms crossed. She had aged a bit since Harley had last seen her, but there was no mistaking who it was.

“And why are you here?”

If Harley hadn’t been raised in backwater Tennessee, he might have laughed at her get-up. She was in frayed jeans, a red and white flannel button-up, with a denim jacket to match, her hair haphazardly pulled into a messy ponytail. She looked like the mother of every kid Harley had gone to school with.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Carol said assertively. Harley had to refrain from shooting her a withering glance. Really, he was the one who had to keep their mouth shut? She might as well have said, ‘We come in peace.’

“We were hoping you could help us,” Peter said, and Harley wished he had followed him. There was suddenly too much distance between them.

A tight, pinched air covered Wanda’s features.

“I’m not exactly in the business of helping people anymore.” She said coolly.

A tenseness settled over them. Fuck this, Harley thought, as he covertly inched himself so that he was standing at least partially in front of Peter, just in case Wanda got any crazy ideas about blasting him with red.

“You’re better at the craft than Dr. Strange, though, right?” Harley piped up, only slightly taunting. Wanda shifted her gaze so that it was fully trained on him. He considered that a win. He gestured his thumb loosely at Peter. “‘Cause Dr. Weird put a spell on him that he can’t quite undo.” He figured he might as well go for broke. “We were hoping that you could.”

Wanda didn’t move nor flinch. Harley would have thought she hadn’t heard him at all if it weren’t for the ever-so-slight narrowing of her eyes.

“And why do you think that?” She said.

“Because I used to be an Avenger,” Peter dared, sounding so morose that Harley felt it, harder than the bullet he’d taken on Acturus.

“He’s still an Avenger,” Harley spat out, barely containing his sudden rage. “He was on the team until Dr. Strange erased him.”

That caused a spark of something on Wanda’s face. Before Harley had any time to react, she was instantly in front of Peter, only mere centimeters away. She reached her hands up to touch both sides of Peter’s temples, in a deft, practiced sort of manner.

Harley dug his fingernails into his palm to resist the urge to rip her away from him. This is what they had wanted after all.

After what felt like hours, she finally pulled away, leaving Peter gasping and nearly stumbling to his knees. Harley did launch forward then; he didn’t care if she was the most powerful witch in the universe, he’d show her what Tennessee tasted like if she hurt Peter again.

“I’m okay,” Peter bit out, his voice hoarse, but he did grapple onto Harley’s steadying arms with enough force to nearly rip the lapels off his jacket.

“You’re sure?” Harley said, patting over him in the way he used to do with Abbie when she came back from the playground, littered in scrapes and bruises.

“Yeah, I just hate when people get in my head,” Peter said, still sounding shakier than Harley liked.

“He’s got Strange’s magic on him,” Wanda spoke up, and Harley reeled around to stare at her.

She was lucky Harley was busy with an armful of Peter.

After a beat, she said, “I’ll help.” Her face shifted into an expression that was friendly, though with an edge. “Only if you don’t tell anyone where I am.”

“If I had a nickel,” Harley groused quietly.

“We won’t,” Carol promised and even held out her hand to shake.

Wanda shook it. As soon as she did, the entire field and sky rushed with maroon, revealing a desert wasteland that had been maraged over the whole time. God, Harley hated fucking magic.

“In that case,” Wanda said, pointing towards a run-down cottage in the distance, only viewable to them now. “Let me show you around.”

—

The cottage was nice, all things considered.

It had been designed to look like a relic from the past. Like something out of a Little House on the Prairie fantasy, with modern appliances haphazardly thrown in.

Harley was polite, painstakingly polite, even if he was also on edge.

He would take Wanda’s help, but he surely didn’t trust her.

Wanda had asked a series of probing questions to Peter, while Harley had stood in the corner, arms crossed over his chest.

“So Strange’s spell… it erased you from everyone’s memory?” Wanda prodded, motioning for Peter to sit across from her at the wooden craftsman table in the kitchen.

“Everyone’s,” Peter confirmed miserably. “No one remembers me.”

Wanda hummed, her eyes narrowing. “And Strange was unable to reverse it?”

“He said that only someone with pure intentions, who loves me, can put me back into the collective consciousness,” Peter repeated, sounding utterly defeated. “I don’t know how we’re gonna find anyone who loves me when nobody can even remember me.”

“What about your mother or father?” Wanda continued. “They don’t remember you either?”

Peter hunched his shoulders, his eyes on the table. “My Mom and Dad died when I was a baby. I had an Aunt who raised me,” Peter sucked in a sharp breath. “But, she’s uh, she’s gone now, too,” he finished, his voice no louder than a whisper.

Harley resisted the burning urge to walk over to Peter, to put his hands on his shoulders and snarl at Wanda for reopening old wounds. Unfortunately, his feet were rooted to the floor. He didn’t know what Peter would welcome in this moment, and he’d be damned if he overstepped.

Peter could handle himself, that much was clear. He was certainly stronger than Harley, and could stand up for himself. That didn’t cease the beast behind his sternum that yearned to protect him regardless. He’d throw himself in harm's way over and over again if it meant he had a chance of saving the glimmers of sunshine that still remained in Peter’s strained smiles.

It was wrong and off-kilter—an upside-down funhouse mirror reflected back to him, seeing Peter strained and world-weary. He should always be bright, an unwavering north star during the blackest of nights.

Every compass would spin uselessly if Peter burned out.

Wanda softened. “It’s hard to put memories back once they’ve been taken away,” she murmured, her eyes far away. “You have to create false ones, and they’ll always ring hollow.”

Peter slumped. “So there’s nothing you can do?” He asked, his voice small and trembling. “You can’t reverse it?”

“Reversing magic is a lot like reversing time,” Wanda said carefully. “Not impossible, however, there usually are unintended consequences.” Wanda’s voice was heavy. “I’m not sure that’s what you want.”

Peter nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face. He stood up on shaky limbs, appearing tired and worn.

“I’m sorry. I think I need. I just. I need a minute,” Peter said, his voice cracking.

“There’s a room down the hall you can stay in,” Wanda said, her voice gentle, gentler than Harley had heard thus far. “I’ll do some reading and see if I can find anything.”

“Thank you for your help,” Peter replied, remaining mild-mannered, even while his world was actively being torn apart.

They watched him leave the room, his shoulders drawn.

It was only when Peter was out of earshot that Wanda turned in her seat, her lips thin, eyes assessing. She scanned Harley up and down.

“You,” she said steadily. “You remember him.”

“He’s the only one that does,” Carol chimed in helpfully, cleaning chucking Harley under the metaphorical bus.

Harley squared his jaw, trying not to feel exposed. “I do,” he said evenly. “I could never forget him.”

Wanda cocked her head to the side.

Harley cleared his throat, unmoored by all the sudden attention.

“I’m gonna go check on him,” he declared.

So much for their plan of Wanda being able to swoop in and fix everything. From Harley’s limited experience with magical beings, they didn’t seem to be all they were cracked up to be.

Harley made his way out of the kitchen and down the dim hallway. Only one of the doors was ajar, and he figured that’s where Peter had to be.

He paused briefly before he opened the door further. He really hoped Peter didn’t want to be alone, because he didn’t know if he was capable of leaving him alone right about now.

As soon as he stepped inside, his eyes landed on Peter in the corner. He was curled up on the floor, back against the wall, knees to his chest. He gazed up at Harley, his eyes rimmed red.

Harley didn’t know what to say. He never knew the right things to say.

He went over to Peter, using careful, measured steps. He slid down the wall until he was seated next to him.

Harley waited.

Patience wasn’t one of his virtues, but for Peter? He’d wait. He’d sit stock still for eternity if, at the end, Peter looked at him and gave him a smile.

“What are we going to do?” Peter croaked after a full minute of silence. “Is this my life now?”

Harley could feel his heart crack behind his ribs. “No,” he said, because if there was a will, there was a way, and he was going to find it, for Peter. “We’re gonna figure something out.”

Peter leaned his head to rest on Harley’s shoulder.

“You remember me,” he said, his voice thick. “You remember me.”

“Couldn’t forget you if I tried,” Harley whispered, and he felt Peter shudder. He twisted the bottom of Harley’s t-shirt into his fist, like he was holding on, begging Harley not to leave, as if Harley ever could. He buried his face into Harley’s neck.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me,” Peter said ruefully.

“I think,” Harley said, his mouth dry. “I’d still be stuck on you even if the whole world knew your name.”

“Harley,” Peter said. He said Harley’s name hushed, like a prayer.

Peter peeled his face out of Harley’s neck, and Harley’s breath stuttered as Peter peered at him from under wet lashes.

He cupped his hand around Peter’s neck, and his thumb brushed over his pulse point. It grounded him, feeling each beat of Peter’s big, brave heart under his thumb.

He could sense Peter leaning in, and the pit fell out of the bottom of his stomach.

He pressed their foreheads together, effectively halting him.

“Not now,” he said. “Not like this,” and each word landed like a physical ache in his chest.

“Harls,” Peter said, still reverent, still beautiful, like Harley’s name was one of saints. A devotion he didn’t deserve, not when he was Peter’s only lifeline.

“Not when you don’t have a choice,” Harley said, wanting beseechingly to throw all reasoning and logic out the window. But, he couldn’t do that to Peter. Peter was allowed to break down and act irrationally. Harley had to look out for him. The smile that caught his lips was self-deprecating and wry. “Not really a fair game when you’re the only player on the field.”

Peter made a small sound. “You’ve always been the only player on the field.”

Harley moved his hand to caress his cheekbone, gliding over the tiny scar he had from falling when he learned how to ride a bike. He treasured the few scars on his body that came from before the bite, that his powers didn’t see fit to heal over.

“We both know that’s not true, darlin’,” Harley said.

“Do you know why MJ and I broke up?” Peter said out of the blue, and it threw Harley for a loop.

“What?”

Peter barrelled on. “She wasn’t in love with me,” Peter said, as if that shouldn’t have been a heart-shattering revelation. “Which was fine, because I was pretty sure I was in love with someone else.”

“Peter,” Harley croaked. Now it was his turn to utter Peter’s name like it was salvation.

“I wrote you letters,” Peter blurted out. “I couldn’t talk to you while you were in space, and I didn’t know how long you’d be gone. So, I wrote you letters.” His cheeks colored themselves pink.

“I had a picture of you in my bunk,” Harley found himself saying, since they seemed to be making confessions.

Peter’s mouth parted, and his blush deepened, if that was possible.

“I choose you,” Peter said desperately. “I chose you before, and I’d choose you if this never happened. Harley, I’d choose you even if you didn’t remember me. It’s you, okay? I choose you.”

“Sweetheart,” Harley whispered.

“Please?” Peter whispered in return, his lips only a hair’s breadth away from Harley’s.

Harley didn’t have a chance in hell of denying Peter on a good day, so there was no use in believing he could deny him on such a bad day.

Harley leaned forward and connected Peter’s mouth in a kiss.

Peter’s lips were soft and warm. He tasted like strawberry lipbalm, and Harley savored it greedily.

Peter kissed him back like he was starving for it, eagerly trying to deepen it with a swipe of his tongue over Harley’s bottom lip.

Harley pulled back, just enough to mutter against his mouth, “Easy, baby, easy,” the endearment slipping out without much thought.

Peter dipped his head bashfully. “Too much?” He asked sheepishly.

“Nah,” Harley said. He doubted he could ever have too much of Peter Parker. “We shouldn’t while you’re so upset.”

Peter gnawed on his lip, his eyes squeezing shut. “Yeah,” he breathed after a moment. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Harley promised, taking his vow seriously.

Peter nodded shakily.

As Harley looked at him, really looked at him, his eyes raking over Peter’s face, he could feel his resolve settling, hardening, and solidifying in his chest.

He knew what he had to do.