The Harley Keener Villain Complex

Fuck the Fury Brothers and shooting things in the name of science

AN: 
I got a bit sidetracked with an original project and uni
Plus I added two entire scenes from my scrapped scenes back into the chapter because *reasons*

Trigger warning for: Fully Intentional Overdose without the intent or desired outcome of death, discussions of improper BDSM etiquette, guns, two small scenes containing torture, blood, vomit, mentions of noncon in an abusive relationship between a minor and an adult, mentions of past drug use

Also comments would be greatly appreciated :)

"Jacob Fury" he stated plainly after taking a seat on the small and uncomfortable chair, opposite a fairly handsome man with blue eyes and dirty blonde, almost brown hair, an unkind face and an incredibly sad expression which seemed as though it had been turned into his default look.

"Mister Parker I presume?" he asked and Peter nodded, still unsure what he really was doing in a Massachusetts state prison, for some reason it felt like he needed to do this. Something deep inside him was beyond certain that this was part of the path he had to take. "If I may ask what brings you here"

"You. Obviously" Peter said coldly

"Let's start at the beginning then, won't we" Peter nodded, he did not appreciate the man's tone one bit, it was the kind of voice he expected kindergarten teachers to use on kids when telling them to use their walking feet instead of their running feet. Which was to say he was obviously talking down to Peter which- he did not take to kindly. But he could not let it show. He was sitting in front of a criminal. "You presumably know Harley" an incredibly dangerous and persuasive criminal at that. A man who had destroyed some part of Harley. He couldn't let the sad face trick him, and he couldn't let the kindergarten teacher voice throw him.

"No I don't actually know him I'm just here for shits and gigs. Obviously I know him" he noted drily and for a micro second Fury's features curled up into a cruel smile.

"It is a quite simple story if I may say so. We met at Oxford University, I was a guest lecturer" his heart beat picked up for just a few beats but enough for Peter to notice, it almost seemed as though the man was nervous if he could get away with his first lie. Peter let him.

"he ran into me. Physically. Well, we met again later that day and I asked him for coffee. I had no clue how old he was, my assumption was simply that, given he had ran into a room where a Physics lecture was being held for the MA, I assumed he was at least nineteen." Peter noted how bizarre that reasoning was, almost like Jacob wanted to convince him he was innocent. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise.

"We got talking and got on rather well believe it or not. He was a nice guy, smart but very lost. I don't know how much you know but I am correct in assuming you know what happened with his first boyfriend" Peter nodded numbly not wanting to interrupt the lies the man was stringing together. All he wanted was to see if he could find a motive, any motive.

"We spoke about religion a lot, comes with the field of my research of course. He was conflicted, self hatred, religious trauma, the whole lot, he was tearing himself apart and watching it all happen without realizing it. Eventually the conversation turned to BDSM. It wasn't that we were interacting as though we were interested in each other sexually, it just came up. Before you look at me like I am a dirty scumbag- I know I should have stopped things then and there. Not even offered what I did, but what is done is done." he remain silent for a moment as did Peter before he figured out just what he wanted to know. He couldn't figure the man out but he needed something. Something to understand, something to see beyond the mask. He didn't want to hear a lie, didn't want to hear whatever story he had made up to convince Peter he was being genuine. He wanted to see how manipulative he was, if he had a motive Peter could figure out. Because Steve had told him Harley's side of the story and he was desperate to find a motive. Desperate to find a reason. Desperate to understand.