I Will Be There At Your Side (peter parker x harley keener)

Chapter 1: It's Not Stealing If I Return It

Peter Parker has been having a really awful day. Like, really awful.

If you ask him, he's pretty sure the crime rate has significantly risen in the past few months. He must've had to beat up every thief out there thrice over, if he was constantly feeling this drained and hopeless. His usual routine was:

Wake up

Work his job as a barista for a few hours in the early morning

Continue his fruitless search for colleges

Put on his mask and go out into the night to fight a couple thousand bad guys and petty thieves

Rinse and repeat.

Of course, that might just be him. The only meaningful relationship he's managed to form is with the owner and fellow barista of the shop, Saanvi, and even she knows pretty much nothing about him other than his name.

But really, that isn't the worst part about this day, knowing no one but a barista on a first-name basis. In fact, that was probably the best part of his day. Saanvi actually treats him like he exists and this morning she was worried about how much he sleeps in her adorably stoic way.

No, today, in the middle of a battle with someone who managed to get their grubby hands on some super-tech-whatever-the-hell, he got blasted backwards and landed awkwardly on his web shooters. Honestly, he knew he should've thanked whatever gods or omnipotent beings or something might've been out there for his wrist not being the thing that got burst into a million pieces, but you understand he wasn't exactly pleased, either. The fight ended rather quickly after that with all of his added adrenaline from the panic and frustration, Peter took the tech off the power-high teenager and ran off.

He really underestimates his dependence on his right hand at times. He nearly fumbled with the webs perhaps half a dozen times before he admitted defeat and landed in some secluded alleyway to continue the rest of his dejected journey on foot.

When he got back to his apartment, he slumped against his door, heaving an unending sigh. How the hell is he going to fix this?

"Goddamn it," he spits, slipping his web shooter off his right wrist and inspecting it to see if there was anything he could do.

The answer? Nope. There's not a single thing he can do with what he has at hand that would make a difference. He'd probably have better luck making another from scratch than attempting to fix this one.

He slides down the door until he's sitting down, fiddling with the delicate parts of his demolished web shooter. Knocking his head back and glaring at the ceiling, he sighs again with all the pent-up drama of the last couple of years of teenage-assery he'd missed.

What is he supposed to do now? He doesn't have the tools he needs to fix this. The only thing he can think of is to break into the Stark Labs and work from there, which isn't exactly the smartest idea if he doesn't want to do time and damage the record he didn't have.

Oh, well. What other option was there?

Suppose he'll just wait til midnight and see. No one should be in Mr Stark's personal lab anyway, not for a while, not since—

Another sigh is heaved.

"Whatever," he mutters, gathering his broken web shooter and slipping it into his bag. He hikes it up his shoulder and makes to set off.

Here's to not getting caught.

———

Yeah, he got caught.

Why does he even try at this point?

Slipping into the lab, the first thought he was hit with was, 'that was too easy'. Which, as everyone knows, is never a good thought to have when breaking into somewhere, especially a place with high security. (Not that everyone has broken into places before.)