We're Connected

A/N: Hey all! This story is set after Homecoming and I don't plan on getting into Infinity War, Endgame, or Far From Home. The story revolves mostly around Harley Keener (from IM3) and Tony, but Peter will be involved. Harley is 15 now and has been in contact with Tony over the years through email and phone. Tony never offered Peter an Avengers position, but he did set it up for him to come and work in the lab with him a couple times a week. May knows about Peter being spider man. Last thing, Avengers tower wasn't sold, just changed back to Stark tower.

Note: I am not familiar with the foster system. I have spoken with students who are a part of it, and their experiences have been negative. However, I am aware that the system is not always negative and I don't want to imply that it is. For this story, though, the foster system fails Harley.

Chapter 1: What the hell are you doing here?!

Harley's POV:

I let out a sigh, looking around me in disdain. New York City was worse than I'd imagined. It was too big, too loud, too dirty, too crowded, and just plain chaotic. Not to mention everybody was rude, I thought with a grimace, ignoring another disgusted look from some well-off schmuck who thought they were better than me.

I trudged through the busy streets, holding tight to my backpack as I attempted to avoid bumping into anyone. My shoulder still ached from the fight I'd gotten into three days ago, and I already had enough bruises from previous scraps.

Not that anybody seemed to care, I thought darkly, recalling nothing but the judgmental stares of passer byers.

My stomach growled, but I ignored it with practiced ease. I'd long since run out of money, but I was close. I was almost there, and once I got there, everything would be okay.

Everything would be okay.

It had to be.

I was exhausted, hungry, sore, and cold, and I just wanted to rest. I'd been on the streets for nearly a month, and I was desperate. That was the only reason I was here. I had no one else to turn to.

No one.

My mother and sister died two months ago from a home invasion gone wrong. They'd been after my stuff, my lab, but I'd been out at the junk yard, which was the only reason I was alive. My family was dead because of me.

I lasted a month in the foster care system, and managed to be bounced between three different homes, each with their own wretched issues. Drunken, dead beat foster parents, bullying foster siblings, uncaring foster families, or worst of all, the very caring and very loving foster mother (I shuddered). I couldn't stand it, so I'd left and never looked back. I could raise myself better than any of them could.

I'd been on the streets of random cities in Tennessee for three weeks dodging cops and scary people before I decided I couldn't continue this on my own.

I'm smart, like super genius smart, but living on the streets by yourself is hard. Not to mention I'm small for my age and look younger than my fifteen years. The number of pedophiles I'd dodged or fought off was more than I wanted to admit. Then, I had a mouth I couldn't seem to keep shut because it continuously got me into trouble. Thank god I'd had the home-made gun I'd manufactured just after my family was killed. I hadn't had to actually shoot anyone yet, but I had threatened a few.

I looked up, heart beginning to pound as I realized I'd finally arrived. My legs felt shaky, and I let out a trembling breath. I'm here. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here!

Stark Tower.

Formerly known as Avengers Tower.

Changed because those rat bastard Avengers betrayed Tony. I couldn't believe I'd ever looked up to Captain America, the fraud. He betrayed Tony before beating the shit out of him. I'd never forgive him for that.

I forced these thoughts out of my head as I stared at my destination. Big fancy building with his name plastered all over it. Tony never changes, I thought with some amusement. Flashy and gaudy, but secretly a big softy.

I wondered how he was doing. I hadn't been in contact with him since shortly before my family was killed. We'd kept in contact pretty regularly since his unplanned vacation in Rosehill, and it'd been nice having someone to talk to. It'd been nice having someone that listened to me, and who I could geek out with. Not to mention, having Tony Stark to bounce ideas off was freaking amazing.

When I'd been hauled off to the foster home I'd lost my means of contacting him. I'd never thought to memorize his or Pepper's private numbers, and I knew I'd never let such a simple thing happen again. There were so many times that I wished I could've called Tony, if even just to hear some real sympathy, but I'd been unable to. I'd attempted calling his company, but the countless secretaries had refused to forward my call or even deliver a stinking message.

I looked at the entrance, mulling over how I was going to get a hold of Tony. I had no phone or access to internet, and he certainly wasn't expecting me. Hell, I didn't even know if he was here. Well, if he wasn't, then hopefully Pepper was. She knew me, and I knew she wouldn't turn me away.

Again, though, how to convince someone to tell Tony or Pepper that I was here. Looking down at my dirty, raggedy clothes, I doubted I'd even be let into the building. No way would someone believe that I actually knew Tony Stark and Pepper Potts when I looked like a homeless kid; which, technically I was.

Whatever. Standing here and overthinking won't get me anywhere. Maybe if I make a big scene, then I can get his attention…or get arrested. I snorted internally. What more did I have to lose?

My freedom.

Shut up, I told myself. Man up, Keener.

Nodding, I held my head up with confidence as I walked into the fancy building. Security immediately zeroed in on me, but I ignored them as I headed towards the receptionist. I could already feel eyes on me, stupid rich people no doubt wondering what some homeless kid was doing inside their precious sanctum.

"I need you to tell Tony Stark that Harley Keener is here to see him, please," I demanded the second I reached the receptionist's desk. The elderly man frowned, eyeing me up and down before flicking his eyes behind me. Really? Not even a verbal response?

"Hey!" I snapped angrily, before taking a deep breath to quell my rising temper. "Please contact Tony Stark," I asked in a strained voice. "I swear he knows who I am. Just tell him or Pepper that Harley Keener is here. They know me."

"Young man," someone called, placing a hand on my shoulder, "why don't you come with me?"

I flinched at the touch, turning to glare at the security guard. Her eyes seemed sympathetic, but I could also tell she wasn't here to help. Holding a hand out to keep her away, I did the best I could to keep composed. Being loud or out of control like some needy kid wouldn't help.

"Ma'am," I stated with wide, pleading eyes, "Please, you need to believe me. I-I know how I look, okay, and I know it sounds impossible that I could know the Tony Stark, but I swear I do. Just-just, call or-or page him, or call Pepper, or ask his, uh, his AI….um, Friday! Ask Friday!" I announced, cursing myself for having forgotten the newer AI. I'd barely ever spoken with her, but Tony had told me about her and how Jarvis, his previous AI had been incorporated into the android, Vision.

I honestly missed Jarvis. Up until his…death he and I had spoken rather regularly with each other as he'd been programmed into my home lab by Tony. I'd known immediately when he'd vanished because one day I'd arrived and been greeted by no one. It'd been awful, and I'd freaked, contacting Tony immediately. It took several days for him to respond, unfortunately, which freaked me out even more. He eventually called me back, filling me in on the Ultron fiasco and what happened to Jarvis. He then offered to install Friday or even give me my own AI, but I couldn't stomach getting attached and losing one again, so I'd declined. I wished now I'd taken him up on the offer.

"Sweetheart, please just come with me and I can get you some help," the security guard spoke kindly, reaching a hand out towards me again. People were crowding around, and three more security guards were quickly approaching.

Looking around widely, I began to search for a way to leave. I'd find another way to contact Tony. Clearly, this had been a stupid idea, and now I was in danger of being arrested and thrown back into foster care. I couldn't let that happen. I'd be safer on my own.

Shoving my way through the crowd of busy bodies, I bolted for the outside, agilely side stepping and ducking under the feeble attempts of security to catch me. Once outside, I just ran until my legs gave out from exhaustion.

Looking up at the darkening sky, I cursed aloud, knowing I'd have to find somewhere to spend the night. I was too tired to make my way back to where I'd crashed last night, so I headed into an empty alleyway. Hunger pangs hit as the alluring scent of Chinese food hit me, and I licked my chapped lips as I headed to the dumpster.

Weeks on the streets had stripped me of any disgust with searching through trash for food. Although totally unsanitary, it was better than starving to death, so I called it success when I scrounged up some noodles in a to-go box. I scarfed it down before settling myself down on the ground. Pulling my sweater tight, I wrapped my arms around my backpack, my hand inside it and tightly wrapped around my gun. Lying my head down, I attempted to get some rest.

A loud bang and then a curse brought me to consciousness, and before I even regained my wits, I had my gun out and pointed in the direction of the noise.

"Woah, hang on there," a young voice called, but I only tightened my grip as the figure came into the light.

"Spider-man?" I called out in disbelief, staring wide-eyed at the blue and red spandexed hero. A flicker of hope sparked in me.

"Yup, that's me," the hero replied good naturedly. "So, why don't you put down that gun, cuz I swear I'm not gonna hurt you."

I lowered my arm, dropping the gun into my backpack as I pushed myself to my feet. Surveying the hero, inspiration struck. He knew Tony. Tony had told me all about recruiting him for help in Germany, and how he'd made him his suit. He told me about some of the exploits he'd been involved in, most notably being the vulture incident not too long ago. He'd told me almost everything except his real identity. Judging from how often Tony talked about his new intern Peter Parker, though, I had a feeling the two were one. Like I said, I'm a genius.

"Hey, uh, I know you don't know me, but I need you to get a message to Tony Stark for me," I spoke quickly, once more forcing my voice to be calm and collected. He needed to know that I was being serious and honest.

"I know it sounds crazy, but he knows me. Tell him that Harley Keener is"—

"You're Harley Keener?" Spider-man interrupted, and I stared at him in shock.

"You know who I am?" I asked in bewilderment.

"Yeah, of course I do!" he replied animatedly. "Mr. Stark has told me about you and some of the projects you've been working on, but never mind that. Are you alright? What're you doing here? Don't you live in Tennessee?"

I forced away my continued shock at how much this guy knew about me, focusing instead on the relief that I'd finally get to see Tony. Once I saw Tony everything would be okay. A large part of me knew the irrationality of these thoughts, but I chose instead to allow myself to be absorbed in the childish notion that the only adult I trusted could solve my problems.

"Can you take me to him or tell him I'm here?" I spoke desperately, ignoring his previous questions. "Please," I added on, my calm and collected façade starting to crack.

"Uh, yeah, of course. Just hold on," Spider-man stated.

"Karen, contact Mr. Stark," he ordered, and I looked around in confusion, wondering who in the world he was talking to.

I barely heard the response of a female and realized that he must have an AI installed in the suit. His own personal AI. Tony hadn't told me about that.

I heard Spider-man begin to speak with Tony, but I didn't bother focusing on what he was saying, the utter relief at finally getting in contact with him hitting me hard. Soon, I assured myself. Soon, everything would be fine. Soon, everything would be fixed, and I wouldn't have to run and hide anymore.

Taking several calming breaths to keep from falling apart like some kid, I focused again on the conversation in front of me.

"I can carry him no problem," Spider-man spoke with assurance, pausing briefly before nodding his head. "Yeah, that's right, he might not like that."

"Carry me or whatever's fastest," I stated, really not caring how I reached Tony, just that I'd get to him. Spider-man looked at me with those big, white eyes, informing Tony of what I said.

"Okay, we'll be there soon," he said before ending the call.

"So, the quickest way to Stark Tower will be if I carry you and swing there," he explained. "Is that alright with you, or would you prefer to take a car?"

The thought of being carried caused me only the briefest moments of embarrassment, my need to see Tony strongly overpowering it.

"Just carry me," I declared, pulling my backpack on as I approached him. I wrapped my arms around him as he wrapped one of his around my waist. He pulled me tight towards himself before shooting off one of his webs.

"Let me know if you want me to stop," he informed me before promptly taking off.

I sucked in a startled breath as we were pulled up, before stifling a scream of pain from my shoulder injury as we began to swing quickly through the brightly lit city. Any other time in my life this would've been one of the coolest moments in my life. I could already think of tons of questions I wanted to ask the web slinger, but I couldn't really bring myself to care enough to ask. Aside from adrenaline, I really felt no exhilaration or even fear at the astounding heights we were at. I simply stared impassively, my focus turning towards the quickly looming Stark Tower.

"Hang on," Spider-man spoke once we landed on the side of the tower, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and legs around his torso as he literally ran up the side. In under a minute, he agilely hopped onto a large balcony before gently setting me on my feet.

"Harley?" a voice I knew so well called out, and before I'd even acclimated to really being on stable ground again, I stumbled in the direction of the voice before throwing my arms around the one it belonged to.

"Tony," was all I managed to utter, before burying my face in the crook of his neck. This was the first time we'd been face to face in years, but that didn't matter to me. This man was the only person in the world I had left that I could trust. He was the only one that could make things better. He was the only one that could fix me.

Arms slowly wrapped themselves around me, tightening when I felt my legs begin to give out. My adrenaline had finally run out, exhaustion hitting me hard now that I finally felt safe. It'd been two months. Two long, miserable months since I'd felt safe.

I felt myself being guided inside, and I knew Tony was talking, but I found it hard to make out what he was saying. My senses were quickly dulling, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. My shoulder felt like it was on fire, and I found my grip loosening before I finally fell unconscious.

Tony's POV:

"Shit!" I cried out in shock as the teen in my arms went completely limp.

What the hell is going on?!

"Harley! Harley, bud, come on wake up," I called, giving the kid a mild shake, which only elicited a groan. Eyes quickly scanning for injuries, I felt sick at seeing bruises and abrasions. Nothing looked critical, but I wasn't going to take a chance.

"Pete, help me get him to the car. He needs a hospital now," I ordered, forcing myself to remain levelheaded. I had no clue what the hell was going on, but I knew something was terribly wrong.

Peter rushed forward, immediately taking most Harley's weight off of me. Getting into the elevator and down to my private garage, I wondered what the hell could have happened to Harley, and why Peter had found him sleeping in an alley way.

Glancing at him, I took in the filthy, worn clothing, the greasy-matted hair, and the dirty skin. He looked like a homeless person, and I couldn't fathom why. Why was he living on the streets? Why was he in New York, and why hadn't I heard from him in two months? Granted, I hadn't reached out, but something was obviously very wrong, and the kid had to know that I'd have helped him out.

Rushing towards my car, I helped settle Harley into the backseat, before speeding towards the nearest hospital. I cursed my decision to not have a full-time clinic at Stark Towers. Pepper had said it was an unnecessary cost as injuries were rare at our company.

"The only people who'd need it," Pepper had said, "would be you and Peter."

"That sounds like reason enough to me," I countered.

"You've managed just fine with Peter's minor injuries until now," Pepper argued rationally. "It just doesn't make sense to have a full-time staff 24/7 for two people. New York's hospitals are perfectly capable of taking care of anything you can't, as is the medical staff at the Avengers compound."

"But Peter can't go to a hospital because of his secret identity," I'd continued to argue. "And, they wouldn't know how to deal with his enhancements anyway."

"But the compound could, and with our jet, it'd take minutes to get there."

The argument had ended there. I recognized the truth of her argument, but glancing at the pale, scrawny, unconscious boy behind me, I couldn't help but wish I'd argued harder. Who knew what could be wrong with him? Was he just exhausted? Was he sick? Was he injured?

Arriving at the hospital took an agonizing twenty minutes, even with my driving. I should've just had Pete swing him, but what if he was injured? Dammit, why didn't I have Peter check him over before swinging to the tower? It should've been obvious that something was wrong with Harls for him to be sleeping in a freaking alley.

Pulling up to the curb, I rushed in to retrieve a nurse and stretcher. Once they had Harley in their capable hands, things only became more confusing.

Physically, the teen would be fine. He was severely dehydrated, malnourished and was covered in bruises in all varying degrees of healing. Oh, and then there was his shoulder where it looked like he'd torn a muscle. Thankfully, there were no broken bones and no signs of sexual abuse. His physical state definitely confirmed that Harley had been living on the streets, but not why. That information came after I'd tried to contact his mother.

After checking Harley in, the hospital had wanted me to get in contact with his mom, so I'd called her only to find out she was dead along with Harley's sister. They'd been killed in a home invasion two months ago. Rigid with shock, I'd immediately had Friday pull up everything on Harley the second I'd hung up the phone.

Reading through the police report, my heart ached at the scene Harley had walked in on. He'd been the one to find the bodies. He said the robbers had clearly come for his lab supplies as that's where the most stuff was missing from. The lab supplies I'd given him.

I sped read through the rest of the report, gritting my teeth in frustration at how no suspects had been found. Notes were made on Harley's stoic reactions, and my mind flashed back to my own youth when I'd discovered my parents were dead.

Looking through more data provided by Friday, I found his social services file listing the three different foster homes he'd been to in the span of a month. There were notes that labeled Harley as hostile, antagonistic, and unagreeable. He was a flight risk, it was mentioned, and I couldn't help but agree as it was stated he'd run away from his third home and hadn't been seen in a month.

A month! A whole goddamn month! The kid had been on the streets for an entire month, and I had no idea. He'd been orphaned for two months and I hadn't known. He'd been suffering through all of this by himself, but why? Why hadn't he contacted me? Why did he wait two months before trying to get a hold of me?

So many more questions began to hit me. Why had he left those foster homes? What had he felt was horrible enough to prefer homelessness? What had he been through on the streets? How had he managed to travel here all the way from Tennessee with no money?

The most pertinent question, though: What the hell was I going to do?!

The hospital was now aware of his situation, and I knew social services has already been called. Harley ran from the system for a reason, and I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. I didn't know what Harley wanted or needed right now, but I wasn't going to let him be taken away. He hadn't yet gained consciousness, but I immediately set about trying to gain emergency temporary guardianship. This wouldn't solve everything, but it would at least allow the kid to stay with me until I figured out what the hell was wrong.

Contacting my lawyers, I demanded they have paperwork at the hospital within the hour, before informing the doctors that Harley was under my guardianship so social services would stay away from Harley. My next call went to Pepper, who like me was notably horrified.

"Bring him home," she demanded, looking grief-stricken. "We're not leaving him on his own." Pepper and Harley had never met in person, but they'd spoken on the phone often. The first time had been when I'd been using Harley as an excuse to miss a board meeting. She'd taken the phone, and the two had hit it off. Instead of me missing the meeting, it'd been Pepper, the CEO who'd missed. According to my lovely fiancé, the kid had needed some motherly loving after having had a rough day at school.

"Of course not," I quickly agreed. "I've already filed for guardianship, and I'll bring him home as soon as I can."

"How did we not know any of this?" she then lamented. "I know we've been busy, but how could we have allowed this to happen?"

I ran a hand through my hair before giving a dejected, "I don't know." Guilt surged through me at the obvious suffering the young teen had endured and the fact that I'd had no idea. It was my fault this had happened because I hadn't attempted to get in contact with him. I'd been so caught up with Peter and the Accords that I'd neglected him. He'd needed me and I hadn't been there.

I ended the call with Pepper before texting Peter a brief update on what was happening. The hero had been extremely concerned and confused over everything, but I'd sent him home the second we'd arrived.

I walked into Harley's room and pulled a chair up right next to his bed. He'd grown since we'd last seen each other, but I shouldn't have been surprised as it'd been almost four years since we'd been face to face. Despite that fact, it hadn't stopped me from growing to care for the brat.

At first, I'd remained in contact out of gratefulness for his help, and because I recognized his genius. I took on the role of a mentor, for his academics, at least, making sure he had supplies for whatever projects he was working on while also making sure he didn't accidentally blow himself up. As time went on, I also became a confidante, listening to his hurt over being bullied, and his concerns over his mother's growing alcoholism. I'd offered my help in both instances, but he'd declined, insisting that being a sympathetic ear was all the help he needed.

I'd thought multiple times of having the young genius come visit, but there was always something going on. Hydra, Ultron, the breakup with Pepper, the Accords, and then Spider man. Still, though, despite all that I could've found time. I knew Harley led a rough life, and I should've made more of an effort to check up on him. I was busy, but I managed to make plenty of time for Peter, so why hadn't I done the same for Harley?

Staring intently at the too-skinny youth, my heart seemed to swell with emotion. The usually animated, smart-mouthed kid was unnaturally still and clearly miserable. Even in his sleep he wore a frown, and I swore there were stress lines on his brow.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, placing a gentle hand on Harley's head. His hair was longer than he usually had it, accentuating his curls. It was dark and gritty with dirt, and I ran a hand through it a few times in a dismal attempt to clean it.

"I swear, Harley, I'll do whatever I can to help you," I promised. "I don't know what you need, but I won't leave you alone in this."

A/N: So, first chapter done. Not my best work, but I'd like to gauge your interest levels. I have several ideas in mind, but no ending planned yet. As I said before, Peter will be involved, but not a main character. This story is meant to focus mostly on Harley and Tony's relationship. Also, there won't be any Harley/Peter romance. Please review and let me know your thoughts!