Title: Secret-Keeper
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe (Spider-Man)
Rating: G
Length: 2900 words
Content notes: Spoilers only through Spider-Man: Homecoming

Summary: Peter negotiates with Happy to keep a minor injury quiet from Tony and May.



Happy leaned against the car and sighed for the fifth time in as many minutes. He checked his phone again. Peter was supposed to text him if he was going to be late, but it was now forty-seven minutes past the scheduled end of Decathlon practice and he’d received no messages. After half an hour, he’d tried texting and then calling Peter’s phone, but there’d been no response. He was moving past the annoyed stage and into concern.

He considered calling Tony to activate the spider suit’s GPS. Even if Peter wasn’t in it, they could locate him in seconds if he had it with him. And as far as Happy knew, the kid always had it with him.

Tony was out of town until the next night on unexpected business. Peter spent most weekends out at the Compound these days, using the training facilities or spending time in the lab or just hanging out with Tony, and since May had picked up a double shift this weekend no one saw any reason to change plans. It just meant that this wasn’t quite a typical pickup and transport; Happy’s responsibility here was a bit weightier than normal.

If he called, Tony would likely thank him for interrupting whatever meeting he was in and then tease him mercilessly about worrying. But he would also immediately get Peter’s location, because he was twice the worrier Happy was, even if he’d never admit it.

One more frustrated sigh, and Happy cued up Tony’s number. His phone rang before he could hit the call button. Peter’s face popped up on the display. Happy tried to keep the relief he felt out of his tone as he answered. “Hey, kid. It’s not polite to leave your ride waiting in the parking lot for an hour.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize how long it had been.” He didn’t sound like he was dying, at least. He also sounded genuinely apologetic, which mollified Happy’s frustration a bit. “Practice was canceled, but my friend asked me if I could help her neighbors with a little problem. She only lives a couple of blocks from school, so I said sure. But I didn’t expect it to take so long.”

“A female friend, huh?”

“Happy.” Only a teenager could inject such a combination of annoyance and embarrassment into two syllables. He’d heard the kid do the same to Tony more than once since they’d gone to a first name basis. Happy grinned.

“You need me to just drive around for a while; give you some more time with this friend?”

“No,” Peter said emphatically. “Actually, would you mind to come pick me up? It’s on the way.”

“I suppose. Give me the address.”

A few minutes later, following the GPS, he pulled the car over on a side street. It was only half a minute before he spotted Peter emerging from a nearby alley. He’d planned to just wait in the car, but he did a double take at the kid and instead shoved the door open and hurried out. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Oh, I just helped my friend’s neighbors with that problem I mentioned,” Peter said dismissively. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“You’re covered in blood!”

“That is a total exaggeration,” Peter countered, though the way he glanced down at himself suggested he wasn’t so sure.

Happy crossed the couple of remaining steps between them, but hesitated to touch him for fear of aggravating the injuries. On closer examination, however, he realized there was no gushing blood, and indeed no apparent serious injury. Instead, Peter was covered in small cuts. They were plentiful and some were freely oozing, creating the illusion that no swath of skin on his bare arms had been spared. Even his face had several marks; one particularly nasty one graced his chin.

Reassured, but only slightly, Happy reached out and grabbed the kid by his t-shirt-covered shoulder and started steering him to the car. Instinct made him place his body between Peter and the alley as he hustled him to a more secure spot. He glared openly at a few curious passers-by on the street as he opened the back car door.

Peter hesitated. “I might get blood on the seats.”

“The seats can be cleaned.”

Peter shot him an incredulous look. “Are you feeling all right?”

No, actually, he was trying to avoid freaking out. “Just get in the car.”

As Peter gingerly complied, Happy opened the front passenger door and extracted a spare t-shirt folded up in the glove compartment. It was an old habit from driving Tony around; one never knew when the genius would find himself in need of a clean shirt. Happy could write a book with stories from the spare tees alone.

This one he ripped into pieces. He then leaned into the back seat to pick out the worst looking cuts and carefully pressed cloth to them, intending to stop the bleeding. Peter failed at trying not to wince.

“What did this?”

Peter looked vaguely uncomfortable. “Well, you see, my friend’s neighbors are an elderly couple, Millie and Winston. They needed help…retrieving something from an inconvenient location. I had to climb a bit.”

“Something?” Happy pressed.

“Their pet,” Peter reluctantly admitted.

Happy blinked at him, studying the wounds in a new light. Scratches. “A cat? Are you saying a cat did this to you?”

Peter’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “Yes,” he grumbled. “Her name is Sissy.”

“Was she mad because you called her that?”

“Hey, I didn’t name her. I just rescued her. Only she didn’t really want to be rescued. She was upset because she was guarding three kittens—only we didn’t know there were kittens until after she’d clawed up my face when I grabbed her.”

Happy leaned back, eying the impromptu bandages. Peter blinked up at him, perhaps a little twinge of pain in his expression, but mostly looking like he felt just fine. And yeah, this was probably nothing to a kid who’d been in a plane crash whilst riding outside of the aircraft. “You good for the ride?”

“Yeah.”

A few minutes later, a couple of miles into their trip out to the Compound, Happy angled the rearview mirror so he could see Peter better than the road behind him. “I should take you straight to Medical when we get there.”

“What? No. Happy, they’re just scratches. They’ll be healed by tomorrow.”

“Really? Do you have any idea where those cat’s claws could have been, what kind of germs and bacteria could even now be coursing through your bloodstream?”

Peter’s eyebrows scrunched up and he picked at one of the pieces of cloth. “No, I guess? I’ve never had a pet.”

“Leave that alone.” Happy huffed. He was probably exaggerating, just a little. They were talking about an apparently beloved pet rather than a scavenging stray. “They need cleaning, at least.”

“I’ll clean them. Promise.”

Happy met Peter’s big, earnest eyes with a glare. “I’m sorry, did you think this was a negotiation? You know the rules about injuries.”

Peter scoffed, but he was wincing as he did so because yes, he knew. Tony and May had spent many hours talking, with each other and with Peter, when she’d first learned that Peter was Spider-Man. They’d negotiated conditions for their underage superhero to continue his activities. One was that all injuries, no matter how minor Peter thought they were, were to be reported immediately and all Spider-Manning was to cease until he had been deemed healthy.

“But this hardly even qualifies as an injury,” Peter argued.

“You look like an extra from that zombie show!”

“You can be so overdramatic.”

Happy valiantly ignored the hypocrisy of the teenager calling him overdramatic. “Just so we’re clear…you got mauled by a house cat.”

“She was as big as a raccoon!” Peter said defensively.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a raccoon? Because I’m not explaining to my boss or anyone involved with the Accords how we wound up with a rabid Spider-Man.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Millie said they adopted her from a neighbor with an unexpected litter. So she’s probably half alley cat? Anyway, they swore they had her spayed. They think these kittens were abandoned, and she’s adopted them. So now they’ve got an unexpected litter of their own.”

“And a ferocious guard cat.”

Peter shot him a wry look before shifting his eyes out the window. “She was just protecting the babies. She didn’t know I wouldn’t hurt them.”

“Well, I guess we’ve had a good biology lesson, at least. Never get between a parent and their kids, whatever the species. That drive to protect is hard-wired, deep.” Glancing in the rear-view mirror, and with no real idea why he did so, he added, “Blood relation or chosen.”

Peter’s gaze shot back to meet his, surprised. Happy quickly refocused on the road.

They drove in a somewhat awkward silence for a few miles. Then Happy heaved a put-upon sigh. “At the very least, you have to let me check you over with the first aid kit. I’ll clean the scratches.”

Peter considered the offer. “And we don’t have to tell Tony? Or May?”

“If I’m satisfied. But if I think any of them need stitches, or we see any signs of infection, we go to Medical. No arguments. That’s the terms, kid. Deal?”

Peter nodded slowly. “Deal.” He added, not quite under his breath, “But you’re being ridiculous.”

“That’s me, ridiculous chauffeur extraordinaire.”

He caught Peter’s frown in the rearview mirror. They lapsed back into silence that lasted the rest of the trip. Peter mostly stared out the window, fiddling a little absently with the edges of the cloth strips. Happy kept an eye on him, but left the kid to his thoughts.

Once they arrived, he led Peter to his own quarters. Peter had never been in Happy’s suite before. He looked around with curiosity and gave an appreciative, “Nice,” at the view from the expansive windows.

“Yeah, there’s some definite perks to working for a billionaire,” Happy commented. Peter cast him an inscrutable look, then asked about the restroom.

While Peter used the facilities, Happy googled treating cat scratches and bites. Cleaning with soap and water, which seemed to be the consensus of advice, felt a little lacking. Still, he dutifully retrieved a clean washcloth, soap, and a basin of water. Then he also got the massive first aid kit from under the sink.

Peter eyed his gathered supplies a bit dubiously as he sat down at the table. Happy just shrugged out of his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work.

To his credit, the kid only squirmed a little as Happy cleaned the wounds. In truth, some of them already looked better than they had in the car. Peter was probably right that they would be mostly gone by morning. Still, that didn’t stop Happy from reaching for antibiotic cream and bandages, too.

As he was scrutinizing one of the deeper scratches uncomfortably close to the left wrist, Peter said, “So.”

Happy said, “No; I don’t think it needs sewing,” just for the eye roll he knew it would earn.

He was not disappointed. Nevertheless, Peter ventured on. “Do you clean Tony up like this?”

Happy shrugged. “Before Iron Man, it was my job to protect Tony from stuff like this. That said…yeah. I’ve done my fair share of first aid through the years. Then and now; the man has a tendency to get into scrapes, whether he’s protected by a body guard or a metal suit or not.”

He tipped Peter’s chin up to get a better look at a thankfully shallow scratch on his neck. Peter focused on the ceiling as he said, “He trusts you a lot. He lets you take care of him.”

Happy said casually, “Occasionally. And, well, he does pay me pretty good to do it.”

Peter gave him an exasperated look that he wasn’t entirely certain how to interpret. “But, it’s not like you just work for him. You’re his friend.”

Happy hesitated at the certainty in Peter’s tone, wondering at the emotion behind it.

It was an interesting balance, being friends with the boss. Especially when said boss was Tony Stark. Even once you got past the money and the prestige and the superhero, you still had to contend with a man who had spent his life keeping people at arm’s length. There’d been plenty of times through the years when he’d questioned his place in Tony’s life. But at this point, he knew that no matter what new tasks were put before him or what might be said on any given day, at heart Tony would always be his friend.

“Yeah, kid. I count myself in the lucky few to truly call him a friend,” he said sincerely.

He went back to bandaging, and thought that was that. Peter was quiet for a few minutes before he suddenly blurted, “You know I don’t think of you as just the chauffeur, right?”

Happy paused, taken aback. “No?”

“No,” Peter said firmly.

He didn’t elaborate further. He just looked at Happy with those wide, earnest eyes. Happy resisted the urge to try to wheedle more, or to follow up with sarcasm. The moment felt kind of fragile, but important. He let it stand.

He cleared his throat and focused on applying several more bandages to wounds with questionable need. When he finally closed up the first aid kit and stepped back, Peter held his arms out stiffly and arched an eyebrow at him. “Now I look like an extra from a mummy movie.”

Happy glared. “Mummies are better than zombies.”

“Aren’t they kind of the same thing? I mean, both are dead people getting up and wandering around, wreaking havoc…”

“Well, luckily the cat didn’t kill you, so we can’t really compare. That would have been pretty sad, at any rate. Death by Sissy.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to glare. But when he stood and finally moved his arms, it quickly turned into a whine. “Seriously, I can hardly move.”

And okay, maybe Happy had gone a little overboard. He wasn’t going to admit that, though. “At least you’re less likely to get infected.”

“How am I supposed to shower?”

“You’re not. We just completely bathed your arms and face, what more do you need? You’re a teenaged boy. Throw on some cheap cologne and call it a day.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like cologne. Can’t stand the scent; it’s all too strong.”

Enhanced senses, of course. Happy wondered how exactly this was his life. There was another book he should write here, on the intricacies of caretaking for superheroes. “Sorry kid; you’ll just have to live with yourself until morning. We’ll take them off then and check on that healing factor you’re always bragging about.”

“I don’t brag.”

“Fair enough. That’s actually Tony who’s usually doing the bragging on your behalf.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed. He didn’t duck his head quite quickly enough to hide his pleased grin. Happy shook his head, unable to stop feeling some of that affection himself. It must be contagious. “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

He took the kid to the kitchen and stuck a frozen pizza in the oven. Then, surprisingly, they both enjoyed dinner. He might have thought they’d have little to talk about, but conversing with Peter was surprisingly easy tonight. After they ate he walked the boy to his room and bid him goodnight with a caution not to mess with the bandages. Peter rolled his eyes, but agreed.

Heading back to his own room, Happy mused on their deal. He was hesitant to keep anything relating to Peter from Tony; it seemed like a breach of trust when he knew how important the kid had become to his friend. But it was really a minor incident.
Technically, Peter had reported it to Happy. And Happy was technically in charge of his well-being until Tony returned. Medical attention had been given. So really, the rules had been followed…as long as one considered Happy an appropriate authority in Peter Parker’s life.

That, perhaps, was where he was uncertain.

He certainly didn’t qualify like May, the kid’s only remaining family. And he didn’t think he ranked anywhere near Tony either, with the superhero mentorship and the academic bonding and the paternal sort of bond he and Peter had going. But he cared about the kid; there was little use in denying that.

He could debate this with himself later, when Tony’s arrival was more imminent. By then, he’d know if the healing process was going to go as smooth as Peter expected. He sighed. “FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Mr. Hogan?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Certainly.” Then, without any further prompting from him, she added, “I am already programmed to monitor Peter Parker’s vital signs anytime he has been ill or injured.”

Happy stared vaguely at the ceiling. “Of course you are.”

“Protocol currently calls for me to notify you of any change in Mr. Parker’s condition in the boss’s absence. Did you wish to modify it?”

That gave him pause for a moment. Then, a slow grin spread across his face. “No, FRIDAY. I think that’ll be just fine.”