Tell Me The Truth ~ Peter x Harley

A Deep Breath and A Genuine Laugh

*HARLEY'S POV*

I took the elevator to the 6th floor to make copies of an itinerary for next week.

On the 6th floor, I saw a familiar brunette walking down the same hall as me.

Yep, you guessed it.

Peter.

He glanced at me as he continued walking, his head lowered towards the gray, carpeted floor. "Hey," I stopped him as he passed me with my hand. "Can we talk?"

"Um... I'm kind of busy. Tonight?"

I sighed. "Okay. Normal time?"

He nodded and continued down the hall, walking faster than before. I glared at him.

*PETER'S POV*

Tony wants to see me.

This can't be good.

After my encounter with Harley, I took the elevator to the 74th floor, where Tony would be waiting for me. Right as I walked out, he stepped in front of me and motioned me to a conference room a few yards away.

I followed him and closed the heavy door gently.

"So... a burning building this time?"

I nodded, staring at my shoes and fidgeting with the inside of my hoodie pocket.

I waited for him to say something. It seemed like years.

"You did good, kid." He patted me on the back as he walked towards the giant window looking out onto the city. "I'm proud of you."

I looked up suddenly, a smile spreading across my face. "You're not mad?"

"Mad? No. Why would I be mad?"

"I don't know... I just thought-"

"I trust you to make your own decisions now, Peter. You're 16. You're responsible. I don't have to babysit you anymore," he walked around the big table in the center of the room, "at least not as much." He winked and I smiled even bigger.

"Thank you, sir."

"You... are welcome." He slapped his hand down on my shoulder and looked me directly in the eyes as he spoke. I think we could both sense the aura of discomfort because he nodded his head and left after a few more - very long - seconds.

After the door clicked shut, I grinned to myself and punched the air.

Tony Stark is proud of me!

*HARLEY'S POV*

I check my watch again for the fourth time in the span of 3 minutes.

5:16 p.m.

I sighed. Still 14 minutes left.

"Hey Harls," Felicity approached my desk, scattered with stacks of papers in her hands, some falling and landing like a feather on the floor.

"I got it," I leaned down and picked them up for her and she chuckled. "Thanks," she took them and added them back to her stack. "I'm stressed."

"I can tell," I smirked, looking her up and down. She had a frazzled expression on her face and her hair was tied up in a very tangled red mess, not to mention the hundreds of papers spilling out of her grip.

"What do you need?"

"Um..." she sighed, thinking about why she had come over here in the first place. "Oh! Yeah, um, did you organize the rundown I asked about this morning?"