As soon as his taxi arrives at the edge of camp, Harley throws a few bills into the passenger seat yelling "Keep the change mister!" and runs as fast as his unfortunately short ten-year-old legs will let him. He passes the Big House first, catching a glimpse of Mr. D and Chiron on the porch, each holding a hand of cards. Chiron watches the boy go with an amused smile, and by the time he looks back at his game of pinochle, Dionysus is scowling at him, waiting for him to take his turn.

It's high noon and Harley knows where most, if not all, of his siblings will be. Not far behind the Big House is the forge and when he sees it, Harley involuntarily smiles. He skids to a stop outside the entrance, to catch his breath for a moment. His heart is pounding, not from the physical exercise, but from excitement. It takes a second to wrangle his heartbeat into something more manageable, using the time to breathe in the scent of smoke and oil, and fill his ears with the familiar clanging that he looks forward to all year. It's almost New Year's and Harley is never here at this time of the year, but after hours and hours of begging his mom, she had relented and bought the plane ticket.

Finally, he steps forward, pushing open the heavy iron doors with more strength than he should have, and a wave of heat and sweat slams into him. Harley closes his eyes and relishes in it.

The forge is emptier than usual—only seven of his thirteen siblings are present—but that's to be expected during the holidays. Even so, he can see his siblings hard at work at their usual stations. Nyssa is at the table closest to him, hands gripping a deadly sharp piece of metal as she pounds it into shape. Her bandana is slipping onto her forehead and her face is pulled taut in concentration. Harley can see why Leo always says she looks straight out of an action movie. The rest of his siblings are the same: buried in their work, their eyes seeing nothing but the invention in front of them.

Harley needs to get their attention.

He briefly considers banging on the spare sheet of metal beside him with a hammer, but he knows that the sound will just blend into the background. He chews his lip thoughtfully, then darts over to his workstation and ducks underneath the table.

His space is exactly how he had left it in August. No one messes with Harley's station. All his siblings know to steer clear of his projects because they are loud. And destructive. Ever since Leo broke the curse of Cabin 9, Harley's inventions have steadily gotten more and more disastrous, in the best way possible. His siblings are, of course, proud, and more than a little terrified. Harley loves the reputation he's built.

Running his fingers over his precious assortment of creations, he hums slightly and makes his decision. He hoists the chosen gun onto his right shoulder, swiftly flips a few switches, aims, and fires. He watches with a smirk as a deep red projectile emerges and shoots into the ceiling above him.

The explosion that follows shakes the foundations of the forge, and more than a few of his siblings stumble in place, their concentration broken. The children of Hephaestus are used to loud noises and fires, but they can't ignore the plaster and dust falling into their eyes and hair, and they definitely can't ignore the large gaping hole in the roof.

All seven of his siblings snap their heads to the entrance where he stands, one hip cocked and his precious gun dangling at his side. When they look at him, it's with a combination of fondness and irritation.

"What the Hades, Harls?" Topaz snaps, more exasperated than angry, threading tiny bits of stone out of their hair.

He can tell they're excited to see him here, but the fact that he's just blown a hole in the ceiling probably takes priority.

"I have an idea," Harley announces, now that he finally has their attention.

There are several sharp intakes of breath around the room, which, rude. But maybe more than fair seeing as the last idea Harley came up with was the Three-Legged Death Race, and before that, Annihilation Trials, and the one before that, Duck Duck Slash.

Harley grins at all the nervous faces.

"Get dad to adopt Tony Stark."

Nyssa is so startled that she drops her hammer.

Behind them all, Leo enters the forge, his hands digging through his toolbelt. He looks up at moment he registers the complete silence and blinks.

"What'd I miss?"

One week earlier.

The snow and wind whip his hair into his face and Harley sniffles, his nose cold and close to numb. He pulls his feet up onto a higher step and leans forward to rest his chin on his knees. The concrete of the porch stings but he doesn't move from his place. He reaches into his pocket, grasping the small celestial bronze dagger he never parts with. It's comforting to simply know it's there if he needs it.

He huffs out a small visible breath and stares out at the expanse of green. His mom left for work only a little while ago. He had had a night planned out for the three of them—disgustingly creamy mac and cheese and a movie, Abby's pick—but someone at the diner called out sick and his mom didn't hesitate to pick up the shift. He understands they need the money, but he can't help but wish he was curled up on the couch with his family. Instead, Abby's asleep now, and Harley would have gone to bed too, but his body isn't used to sleeping this early.

He's tempted to take his hand out of his pocket and twirl his blade, but with his luck, his frozen fingers would stumble, and he'd end up slicing his finger off. He resists the urge and closes his eyes to enjoy the silence for a few minutes.

Distantly, he hears a quiet thud and his eyes snap open immediately. He stands up, eyes flicking over the fields, but nothing catches his attention. Maybe someone else would've dismissed the noise, but Harley's a demigod, with enhanced senses that he's learned never to ignore. Monsters rarely come to his house, it's the reason his mom decided to live a little farther from the main part of town, but he's never let his guard down and he's not about to start now.

He turns on his heel, quickly but quietly prying his front door open and stepping inside. He sprints up the stairs into his and Abby's room. Some of the tension leaves his body at the sight of his sister sleeping soundly in her bed, tucked into her blankets like a burrito.

He creeps forward and snatches one of his guns from under his bed before backing out, gently closing the door. He then heads down the stairs and towards the kitchen at the back of the house. He peeks through the shades on the window, but there's not a single sign of life out there, so he deems it safe to open the back door.

His gun is slung over his shoulder, and he has his knife in hand, holding it over his chest in defense. He spots the door to the farmhouse and his eyes narrow when he realizes that it's been cracked open. There are tracks in the grass, but he can't identify the shape, and footprints, which seem to be human.

Harley sniffs the air, but all he smells is grass and dirt. His body is on full alert, but he's missing the hair-raising spike of adrenaline that's usually triggered in the presence of a monster. He hesitates a moment, then slips his knife back into his pocket. He brings his gun up instead, one hand gripping the muzzle tightly and the other wrapped around the trigger.

Harley loves this gun. He built it to look non-threatening, using plastic in bright colors to hide the actual power it packs. There's a cylinder at the top, with a single potato on display, but the real ammunition hides underneath, little spheres of metal that detonate into controlled explosions on impact.

Harley creeps closer to the farm door, and his ears pick up on soft muttering like someone is talking to themselves and it cements his assumption that his intruder is not a monster. The trickle of fear he feels is small, but he squashes it, reminding himself that he is his father's son, a hero, with years of training and bravery for days. Whatever is in there, he's faced worse.

He slips his foot into the crack between the door and the wall, readies his gun, and nudges it open.

"Freeze! Don't move," he orders, and he's pleased when his voice comes out steady.

There's a man standing at his desk, amongst his tools, with his arm out and underneath the lamp. He's leaning over with pliers as if he's about to start digging through his forearm. He's of average height, and much older than Harley, wearing too few clothes for the current weather. When he looks up at Harley, there's a flash of surprise across his face before he quickly schools it into something blanker, almost boredom.

Harley picks up on all these details, but what he sees first is the glowing blue circle in the man's chest. He can't stop staring at the familiar technology.

"You got me. Nice potato gun," the man snipes, looking not at all fazed by Harley pointing a weapon at him, "Barrel's a little long. Between that and the wide gauge, it's gonna diminish your FPS."

Harley bristles. He knows that he's built the gun to look amateur, but the Hephaestus in him doesn't appreciate the criticism from a stranger.

Without looking away from the man, Harley aims the gun up to a shelf and pulls the trigger without hesitation. The potato finds its target, shattering the glass jar into pieces. Harley knows he'll have to clean that up later, but the gun won't use the real ammo unless the potato's been fired, and he wants to be ready if the man is hostile.

"And now you're out of ammo," the man observes, and it sounds a little mean, but there's no real malice in his voice, so Harley relaxes a bit.

He can deal with sarcasm and snark. He wouldn't survive at camp if he couldn't.

"What's that thing on your chest?" Harley asks, without lowering his gun.

The man straightens.

"It's an electromagnet. You should know, you've got a box of them right here," the man says, rustling a container on the desk, its contents clicking against each other.

Harley's thankful that he keeps his more dangerous tools and materials hidden away. At camp, everyone knows better than to mess with Cabin 9's stuff, unless they want to risk spontaneous combustion.

"What's it power?" Harley presses, tilting his head.

The man steps to the side, and Harley's finger tenses around the trigger, but instead of attacking, the man swivels the desk lamp to point to something behind him. When the light hits, Harley involuntarily lowers his gun in shock.

Sitting on his couch on full display is the famed Iron Man armor. It's a little worse for wear, but Harley thinks it's beautiful and he drinks in the sight of it. He's seen it in newspapers and on tv, but never this close and his eyes greedily roam over the suit, cataloging each aspect of the technology.

"Oh my god, oh my god," he mutters, not really hearing himself, "That's…that's…Is that Iron Man?"

His statement comes out as a question, but really, he knows the answer.

"Technically, I am," the man replies, and Harley realizes the intruder that he's been referring to in his head as 'the man' is actually the Tony Stark.

Harley steps forward, eyes fixated on the armor. Without looking away, he pulls out a rolled-up newspaper from his side bag, thrusting it into Tony Stark's chest.

"Technically, you're dead," Harley says, as he walks closer to the couch.

He had seen the paper earlier and while he didn't read the article, couldn't really, the font of the headline was big enough to eventually make out, even with his dyslexia.

"Valid point," Tony mutters behind him.

Harley drops the gun beside the couch and crawls into the seat next to Iron Man, reaching out to touch the face.

"What happened to him?" he asks softly.

Harley knows tech, and he knows when something isn't working. Maybe it's a little weird to show more care for machines than for people, but he can't help it, it's in his blood. Machines are just…easier. He places a hand on Iron Man's head and tilts it experimentally. He feels a little like the Apollo kids in the infirmary, gently checking over their patients to see what's wrong.

"Life," Tony huffs out, leaning against a desk to look at him, "I built him, I take care of him, I'll fix him."

"Like a mechanic," Harley pipes up, twisting the head fully to the side.

"Yeah."

Harley hums and runs his fingers over the grooves of the face.

"If I was building Iron Man and War Machine—" he starts.

"It's Iron Patriot now," Tony interrupts, watching him intently.

"That's way cooler!" Harley exclaims, looking up at Tony with a bright smile.

"No, it's not," Tony shoots back, but Harley's not fazed.

"Anyways, I would've added in, um… the retro…" Harley trails off, forgetting the words.

He knows what he wants to say, but he's not used to using big science words and he doesn't want to look dumb in front of the Tony Stark, even if the man isn't really what he was expecting. He's not used to talking about his ideas either, with people that aren't from Cabin 9. His siblings just understand him like that, so he never really has to worry about communicating.

"Retroreflective panels?" Tony offers, and Harley feels a little relieved that the other man knows what he was trying to say.

"To make him stealth mode," Harley explains.

Tony looks a little intrigued.

"You want a stealth mode?"

"Cool, right?" Harley nods eagerly.

"Huh," Tony contemplates, "That's actually a good idea. Maybe I'll build one."

Harley doesn't respond to that, but he feels a bit of pride bloom in his chest and continues fiddling with the suit. As he does, he accidentally snaps off one of the fingers. He doesn't mean to, but the joint gives way more easily than he was expecting.

"Oops," he mutters.

"Not a good idea! What are you doing?" Tony hisses, "You're gonna break his finger? He's in pain, he's been injured. Leave him alone."

"S…sorry," Harley looks down, feeling bad now. He couldn't really tell if Tony was angry with him or not.

"Are you?" Tony quips, and when Harley looks up and sees his expression, he realizes that the man was just messing with him, "Don't worry about it, I'll fix it. So, uh, who's home?"

Harley hesitates, unsure how much to tell him. He doesn't want to lie, but he barely knows Tony, superhero or not, and he's got a healthy amount of distrust for anyone outside his family.

"Well, my mom already left for the diner and dad went to 7-Eleven to get scratchers," Harley pauses, "I…I guess he won, 'cause that was six years ago."

That's true enough, he figures. His stepdad did disappear on them one winter evening, leaving his mom to raise them on her own. Maybe the joke was a little morbid but sue him. He's had a rough life and he's allowed to make jokes like that if he wants. Plus, it doesn't really bother him anymore, now that he's got a camp full of family and a dad that cares, even if he doesn't see him that often.

Fortunately, Tony seems to take his sense of humor in stride.

"Mm. Which happens, dads leave. No need to be a pussy about it," Tony replies and Harley has to stop himself from snorting. He likes that Tony doesn't really censor himself, even around who he thinks is a normal ten-year-old. And maybe he senses something akin to empathy hidden behind Tony's sharp words.

"Here's what I need: a laptop, a digital watch, a cell phone, the pneumatic actuator from your bazooka over there, a map of town, a big spring, and a tuna fish sandwich," Tony rattles off.

Harley glances down at his gun. If he were to dismantle it for parts, he could very easily make it again at camp, but he doesn't really want to be left defenseless. He doesn't have much celestial bronze with him, and he has to stay alive until the start of summer. But on the other hand, this is his chance to help out Tony Stark.

"What's in it for me?" he asks.

"Salvation," Tony quips instantly, "What's his name?"

Harley blinks.

"Who?"

"The kid that bullies you at school, what's his name?"

Harley frowns childishly. Does Tony think he looks helpless? The man's not wrong, there are a couple of classmates that pick on him, for the classic troubled kid, troubled family things. And maybe it had bothered him a few years ago, but not so much anymore. They don't ever get physical, and Harley's gotten pretty good at ignoring them or snarking back.

"No one bullies me," he huffs, "I'd kick their asses if they did."

"Right," Tony drawls, walking over to his suit, and it's clear he doesn't believe him, "I got just the thing."

He uncrosses his arms and presses a part of the chest panel, and when a compartment pops out, he reaches inside and procures a small metal object. He holds it out to Harley.

"This is a pinata for a cricket."

Harley stares.

"I'm kidding, it's a very powerful weapon. Point it away from your face, and press the button on top. It discourages bullying. Non-lethal, just to cover one's ass," Tony explains, waving it in the air.

Harley reaches out to grab it, but Tony yanks it out of reach. He half-heartedly follows it in the air, but Tony still refuses to let him have it.

"Deal? What'd you say?" he presses.

Harley can't resist new technology. It wouldn't be entirely unhelpful either, in case the kids at school did get rowdy. The weapons Harley makes are usually meant for monsters and thus, are usually, in fact, very lethal so he would never use them against bullies. Harley mentally shrugs. What could go wrong?

"Deal," he agrees easily.

"Deal," Tony confirms and finally hands over the object, "What's your name?"

"Harley," he reveals, twisting his new toy between his fingers, "And you're…"

Harley wants to hear him say it.

"The mechanic. Tony," he says in that short, caustic way of speaking that Harley finds kind of funny.

They stare at each other for a beat. Harley takes the time to actually study the man before him. His face is slightly dirty and flushed with cold. There's a scrape over his nose, the blood already dried, and the bags under his eyes scream exhausted, but his body language refuses to show it.

"You know what keeps going through my head?" Tony finally breaks the silence.

Harley wonders what he'll say next, something about the suit? Something about why everyone in the world thinks he's dead? Something about what could possibly have a genius billionaire superhero hiding out in Harley's shed?

"Where's my sandwich?"

"Harley…" Nyssa groans.

"Just hear me out," he urges, "Please."

He and his siblings are all gathered around one of the worktables, individual projects all forgotten. Leo is standing next to him, and he appreciates the comfort that the presence of his most unhinged brother provides. Nyssa folds her arms and stares at him expectantly from her place directly across him.

"He's a mechanic, like us," Harley states like it's an obvious reason that the rest of them have overlooked.

To his right, Topaz pinches their nose, leaving behind a streak of black grease.

"He's a little more than just a mechanic," they comment, exhaling.

On the other side of the table, Ayano scratches the back of her neck with a small screwdriver.

"You can't just adopt a whole adult," she argues, her eyes flitting up to the ceiling.

"Not me," Harley corrects, rolling his eyes, "Hephaestus."

"That's even worse," Shane mumbles behind the hand he previously slapped over his face.

"I'm serious," Harley insists, now frowning, "I want him to be our brother."

He hardly fights with his siblings, they're not really an argumentative bunch, but he's starting to feel frustrated. He doesn't understand why they're not listening. Leo places a firm hand on his shoulder, and the feeling subsides at the contact.

"Why?" Leo asks, uncharacteristically serious, "What's going through your head, Harls?"

Harley looks up at the older boy, and then out to the rest of the table.

"I met him," he confesses and sees multiple sets of eyes widen, "Over Christmas. Helped him out with some stuff. He was annoying, and mean, but also…kinda nice," Harley huffs out a laugh. He doesn't really have the right words for what he thinks about Tony so he hopes his siblings can tell by his tone. "I want him to have some family."

Harley can feel Leo's body sag next to him. As he looks around the table, he knows he's got them. No one there is really related to each other, or to the other demigods in the various cabins, but, nonetheless, they are family. And every demigod knows the importance of family.

Nyssa lets out a long, heavy sigh.

"Okay," she says.

"Wait, really?" Harley perks up and is surprised when the rest of his siblings start to nod along with him.

"Yep," she confirms, "Let's do it."

"Gods help us all," Topaz mutters, but they can't help but smile at the delighted look on Harley's face.

One week earlier:

Tony walks a little too briskly for Harley to keep up without breaking into a jog, and he thinks the older man realizes because he pauses at the corner so Harley can catch up.

"The sandwich was fair, the spring was a little rusty, and the rest of the materials, I'll make do," Tony chatters, as they continue through town.

Harley thinks he's taking pity on him. Harley had made himself a sandwich too, and honestly speaking, it was a poor excuse of one, and he wonders if Tony is sparing his feelings or genuinely didn't hate it.

He shoves his newly gloved hands back into his pockets, needing the extra bit of warmth it provides. The snow crunches softly under his feet as he follows Tony on the sidewalk to wherever he was taking them.

"By the way," Tony says, pausing at another corner, "when you said your sister had a watch, I was kinda hoping for something a little more than that."

Tony yanks his sleeve up so Harley can see—not like Harley didn't give him the watch in the first place and already knows what it looks like. The bright pink Dora accessory contrasts so sharply with Tony's image that Harley can't help the bubble of laughter that erupts from him. The time is displayed in a rectangle so small, that he can barely even read it.

"She's six! Anyways, it's limited edition," Harley explains.

Abby takes her Dora watch very seriously, and Harley feels somewhat guilty for handing it over, but his sister will forgive him once he tells her tales of his adventure with the Tony Stark.

Tony turns left and starts walking down in the new direction.

"When can we talk about New York?" Harley chirps.

Harley wondered why everything important always happened in New York City. First the Second Titan War and now an alien invasion? A small part of him is glad he lives out in the middle of nowhere, but the bigger part is bummed that he missed out on the excitement. If he were in the city when the Chitauri were wreaking havoc, he would have totally kicked some alien ass, and he laments the missed opportunity of testing out some of his more explosive creations.

"Maybe never, relax about it," Tony replies instantly.

Harley thinks he sounds tired.

"What about the Avengers, can you talk about them?"

He can't help it, he's curious. He wonders who would win in a fight, Thor or Thalia? Harley has seen the terrifying daughter of Zeus around camp when the hunters visit and he decides he would bet all his drachmas on Thalia.

Tony reaches out with his hand and pushes him to the side.

"I don't know, later. Hey kid, gimme some space," he mutters, finally stopping.

They're standing in front of the explosion site, and Harley steps into the memorial area, pretending that the candles, crosses, and ribbons don't bring up difficult memories for him. They have something similar at camp for all the heroes who died during the wars, and Harley always visits, every summer, on the last day of camp.

"What's the official story? What happened?" Tony asks, as Harley carefully steps through the jagged rock on the ground.

He lowers himself down on an uneven section of the floor and swallows a small lump in his throat.

"I guess this guy named Chad Davis, used to live roundabouts, won a bunch of medals in the army. One day, folks said he went crazy and made, you know, a bomb. Then he blew himself up right here," Harley explains, relaying what he had heard from the locals.

His casual tone falters during the last sentence, but thankfully, Tony doesn't say anything, just continues walking around the memorial. He reaches out to touch the discoloring on the walls.

"Six people died, right?" Tony turns around to ask him, "Including Chad Davis."

Harley nods at him, and says, "Yeah."

Tony swivels to look at the other walls, and then walks backward and sits down next to Harley.

"Yeah, that doesn't make sense. Think about it. Six dead, only five shadows."

The first time he had visited the memorial, Harley had noticed it. He knew explosions, and something about this one didn't fit quite right, but his mom didn't really like him coming here too often, so he had just tried to push it out of his mind.

"People said these shadows are like the mark of souls gone to heaven," Harley says softly, staring into one of the candle flames, "Except the bomb guy, he went to hell on account of he didn't get a shadow. That's why there's only five."

Tony stares at him, and if the story spooks him, he hides it well.

"Do you buy that?"

Harley rubs his nose and wonders if Chad Davis is in the fields of punishment. The shadows around the walls are in eerie positions, as if, even after death, they're trying to escape, but can't.

"The shadows? No. The heaven and hell thing? Sorta," he finally says, and when Tony looks like he wants to ask him to expand on that, his brain screams at him to change the subject, "You know this crater reminds me of?"

"No idea. I'm not…I don't care," Tony shoots back, and Harley almost stops but doesn't.

"The giant wormhole in, um, in New York," he grins looking up at the sky and then back at Tony, "Does it remind you?"

Tony reaches up to rub his temples.

"That's manipulative, I don't want to talk about it," he says, sighing.

"Are…they coming back? The aliens?" Harley asks, wondering if camp should put some contingencies into place in case they do.

"Maybe," Tony replies, and then louder, "Can you stop?"

Harley opens his mouth a little but says nothing, and guilt floods his bones. He's touched on something painful, he can tell, but he's not sure how to apologize.

"Remember when I told you, that I have an anxiety issue?" Tony finally says, back at a normal volume.

Harley winces.

"Does this subject make you…make you edgy?" he asks, cautiously.

"Yeah, a little bit," Tony's words come in between short gasps, "Can I just catch my breath for a second?"

Harley hates this feeling. He's not an Apollo kid, he doesn't know how to talk people down from panic attacks, and he tries, in vain, to remember what techniques Kayla used to help him last summer.

"Are there bad guys in Rose Hill?" is what comes out first, and he quickly realizes that was probably the wrong thing to say, "Do you…do you need a plastic bag to breathe into? Do you have medication?"

"Nope," Tony says, letting out a breath he'd been holding for a beat too long.

"Do you need to be on it?"

"Probably," Tony answers.

"Do you have PTSD?"

"I don't think so," Tony reacts, instantly defensive.

Harley's hit the nail on the head. He's seen enough PTSD at camp, and he knows. He knows that Tony's not fully with him. He can tell by the way his heartbeat won't come down, the way his unfocused eyes flit back and forth, and the way his breathing keeps getting faster despite him trying to wrestle it into control.

"I can stop," Harley says, leaning slightly back to give the man space, "Do you want me to stop?"

Harley's words don't seem to help, and Tony only looks more agitated.

"Remember when I told you to stop doing that? I swear to god, you're gonna freak me out," Tony half-babbles, rising, "Ah man, you did it, didn't you? You happy now?"

He takes off, back the way they came, leaving Harley stunned and still on the ground.

"What did I say?" Harley calls out, getting up to run after the man.

Tony rips off his jacket, and collapses at the corner of the street, using a street sign pole to aid his fall. He leans down, takes off the hat Harley gave him, and gathers some snow onto his hands. He presses it firmly against his face, his skin stinging and reddening at the contact. The shock finally manages to snap him out of his state.

"What the Hades was that?" Harley demands.

Tony slides his hands down and shapes the snow in his palms. Harley sees the attack coming and shifts to the side so when Tony throws the snowball at him, it hits him in the left ear. When he shakes the cold off and looks back at Tony, the man looks calmer.

"Your fault, you spazzed me out," he snaps, but Harley can tell he's not angry anymore, "Also, Hades? What, is that, like, some backward way to censor yourself?"

Harley's ears turn pink and he's glad that his hat is covering them.

"Yeah…" Harley trails off, trying to think of something to say, "Mom doesn't like me swearing."

He knows that Tony knows he's lying.

"Okay, back to business," Tony pivots, and Harley's grateful that he doesn't care enough to push it, "Where were we? The guy who died…relatives? Mom? Mrs. Davis, where is she?"

Harley rubs his nose again.

"Where she always is."

"See, now you're being helpful," Tony points out, raising a hand to gesture at him to continue.

Harley cautiously raps his knuckles against the intimidating grey door of Cabin 6. The owl statue's eyes bore into his and he looks back at all his siblings waiting in a crowd a few feet behind him for support.

"Like that's gonna get anyone's attention," Shane drawls.

"Should I use the same strategy I used to get yours?" Harley asks, voice dripping in fake sweetness, because, how supportive.

And Shane balks because he knows Harley is just crazy enough to try.

Thankfully for everyone involved, Harley reels in his destructive streak, turns back around and knocks louder.

After a few seconds, Malcolm Pace opens the door, his eyes blinking as they adjust to the sun.

"Hey Harley," he greets, and then casts his gaze over his shoulder, "Hey…everyone?"

"Hi, Mal!" Harley chirps at him, then peeks into the cabin, "Can we come inside? We wanted some advice on something. Is Vivek here?"

"Yup, he's here," Malcolm confirms, then pauses, looking apprehensive, "All of you?"

The Athena cabin is already swamped, with campers, but mostly with books, and desks, and blueprints, and 3D models, the list goes on. Honestly, it's almost as bad as the forge, but at least the Hephaestus kids separate their living and working spaces. The Athena kids seem to have missed out on the work-life balance memo. In any case, Harley knows it'll be cramped, but he wants all of his siblings here for this.

"Yeah, it's pretty important," he says, eyes pleading.

Malcolm sighs, and then opens the door wider, beckoning them all in.

"He's over there."

Malcolm points to a section in the back, where several stacks of books obstruct the view of a desk, but Harley can see the mop of black hair over them, and bounds over, carefully not to knock into anything.

If the other Athena kids take notice of the small hoard of Hephaestus kids filing into their cabin one by one, they don't say anything about it.

Harley steps to the side of the desk, safely away from the teetering books, and waves a hand in front of the boy's face. Vivek looks up in irritation at first, but it melts away at Harley's bright smile.

"Harls! What can I do for you?" he asks, then catalogs the rest of them, "—all."

Vivek is only a couple of years older than Harley, and whip-smart, like the rest of the brain children. He, also like the rest of the brain children, has a deep and thorough library of knowledge on his passion of choice, and thankfully for them, Vivek's happens to be all things mythology. Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Mayan, past, present, future, if Harley could name it, Vivek knew it.

"We were wondering…" Harley trails off, "Can gods adopt children?"

Vivek furrows his brow.

"Not, like, emotionally—" Ayano clarifies.

"Or legally," Topaz adds.

"—We mean like… godily? Magically?" Ayano finishes, scrunching her nose while trying to find the right word.

"In a godly manner," Nyssa concludes, snapping her fingers, "Can gods adopt kids in a godly manner."

"But not like the hunters," Leo interjects, "Because if you asked Artemis how many kids she had, she wouldn't say twenty-three or however many there are now, she would say none. And then maybe turn you into a jackal for even asking."

"Right," Nyssa nods thoughtfully.

"Like, let's say, hypothetically, Hephaestus had eight demigod kids, and then he adopted one more, and, hypothetically, you asked him how many kids he had, would—or could—he say nine?" Casper babbles, and the rest of them voice their agreement at his explanation.

Vivek blinks, finally able to stop swiveling his head around to follow the broken-up explanation.

"Right," he drawls, nodding slowly as he looks over the bunch of them, counting exactly eight heads, "Hypothetically."

The sarcasm flies over all eight of their heads.

"Yeah. Can Heph— uh, gods do that?" Harley presses.

Vivek's grey eyes bore into him, the color a pretty, but intimidating contrast against his dark skin, and Harley shifts in place. Vivek decides to spare them.

"It has been done before," he reveals, and all the Hephaestus kids lean forward in interest, "At one point in time, Hephaestus fell madly in love with Athena."

"Um, what?" Shane mutters, but his siblings shush him to hear the story.

"However, Athena wasn't interested in him, and when Hephaestus tried to make his move on her, she fought him off. But, as she did, a drop of—a drop fell into the ground at her feet, and a baby was born. A son of Hephaestus and Gaia. Athena adopted the baby, and named him Erichthonius—"

"Please tell me he went by Eric," Topaz snickers, and Vivek shoots them a glare for interrupting.

"Anyways, Athena had just won patronage of Athens, and she had to leave to build her temple, so she put Erichthonius in a basket and handed him off to King Cercrops's three daughters. She warned them not to look inside, but Princesses Aglaurus and Herse were overwhelmed with curiosity and failed to follow Athena's order."

Everyone sucks in a breath, enraptured by the story, and Vivek pauses to build suspense.

"No one knows for sure what they saw, but whatever it was…They went mad and threw themselves off the Acropolis," Vivek says, gravely.

Even the stoniest of the bunch, Jake, shudders.

"When Athena found out that they disobeyed her orders, she was furious. She dropped the rock she had been carrying for her temple and it became Mount Lykabettos, and the crow that saw everything and delivered the news to her, she turned permanently black. Anyways," Vivek says, shrugging, "Eventually, someone usurped King Cercrops and, years later, Erichthonius usurped them, and became the King of Athens. He was praised for being inventive like his birth father, but also smart and strategic like Athena."

Harley and his siblings are silent as they digest the onslaught of information.

"Uh, drop?" Harley asks, because Vivek had hesitated there, and maybe it's important information to have about godly adoption, "Drop of what?"

Sheer panic crosses Vivek's face and he looks to Jake, the oldest of them, for support. Jake very insistently shakes his head 'no'.

"Not important, Harls," Vivek lets out a nervous laugh, "Let's keep it PG, yeah?"

Nyssa's face folds in disgust as she understands, and Harley's still confused, but he trusts Vivek. He probably doesn't need to know.

"You know, you could have just said yes," Shane snarks, and it takes Vivek a second to register that he's not talking about the…drop, but about his impromptu storytelling session. "I mean it was super interesting and all, but…"

"You should've known better than to come to Cabin 6 then," a breezy voice sounds and a girl slides into the space behind Vivek without warning.

Harley nearly has a heart attack. Athena boys are intimidating, that's for sure, but Athena girls? Downright terrifying.

Shane cowers in Imala's presence as she stares him down, her pin-straight hair slicing down the sides of her face at a scary angle.

"Who're you adopting, anyways?" she stops her staring contest to ask, eyes landing on Ayano.

"Who said anything about us adopting?" Ayano retorts, and Harley mentally cheers his sister on.

Imala shifts her gaze to Harley and his cheers die immediately. He only lasts a second or two before—

"Tony Stark," he mutters in defeat.

Vivek chokes on air, and Imala doesn't hesitate to slam a hand into his back to help him.

"Iron Man?" the boy screeches in a whisper because his siblings will complain he if disturbs their work, "You want to adopt Iron Man?"

"Not us, Hephaestus," Casper echoes Harley's statement earlier, like that helps the situation now.

Vivek's mouth opens and closes soundlessly, but Imala looks thoughtful.

Suddenly, Harley narrows his eyes at her, his fear of her overshadowed by another, more important one.

"You—Athena can't have him, got it? It was my idea first, I called dibs!" he threatened, pointing at her.

Leo steps forward, alarmed, and ready to defend him.

"Shortstack's right, he's already emotionally a Hephaestus kid, so… back off," Leo waggles his finger at Imala.

"Emotionally, maybe, but not 'in a godly manner', right?" Imala responds, amused, and it cements Nyssa's suspicion that she's been listening the whole time.

Harley gets ready for a physical fight he's not sure he'll win, but Imala cuts the tension by laughing lightly. She buries her hand in Vivek's dark curls, maybe to ground the poor boy who's still processing, and tilts her head.

"Relax, you can have Stark," she smiles mischievously, "But that means we get Banner."

"Done deal!" Leo exclaims, bringing his hand up to shake Imala's vigorously, "Alright troops, let's head out. We've got a strategy to plan."

"And a powerpoint to make!" Topaz adds, brightly, and fist-bumps Casper.

Harley's a little relieved that he doesn't have to fight for Tony. He sends both Imala and Vivek a bright grin and thanks, before following the rest of his siblings out.

"I—Are we really gonna adopt the Hulk?" Vivek asks his sister, looking up at her with a dumbfounded expression.

Imala hums, untangling her fingers.

"We'll see," she concedes, squeezing her brother on the shoulder before dropping her hand, "It wouldn't hurt to draft a list of conversation points, though."

The knowing look she sends him before gliding away and back to her own studies has Vivek's mouth dropping open once more. He glances down at the notebook on his desk and holds his head in his hands.

"There's not enough paper in that world for that."

One week earlier:

Tony had told him to buzz off and, in hindsight, maybe he should've listened, but it seemed like an okay idea at the time.

Tony's inside the bar, where Harley told him he could find Mrs. Davis, and Harley waits for him outside, sitting on a too-cold bench. There's some ice below him and he passes the time by scuffing it with his feet to get it to crack. He stares at the Christmas lights above him, resting his head on the wood uncomfortably.

The sudden sound of a gunshot and resulting screams have him snapping back into focus immediately. The patrons of the bar spill out from the front and back entrances, trying to leave as quickly as they can, and Harley hops behind his bench, trying to find Tony amongst them.

Finally, he sees Tony stumble out, his wrists cuffed against his back and struggling to keep balance. Tony glances back at the bar and then turns to the side to get ready to run, but something stops him in his tracks.

Harley cranes his neck to see what it is, and his pace quickens. A man emerges from a car, holding a cup of coffee. There's a malicious smile on his face, and undercurrents of something red-hot run up and down his neck, face, and hairless scalp. He raises his cup in a toast towards Tony and then tosses his coffee out onto the street.

It takes only a fraction of a second for Harley to realize that this isn't a monster, the man is human. Or some version of human, at least.

Fuck, Harley curses viciously in his head.

He's left his 'potato' gun back at home, and he has no other long-range weapon on him. The man reaches to the side—Holy Hephaestus that's a real mortal gun—and Harley reacts instinctively, reaching down to gather some snow. He chucks it directly at Baldy, the projectile slamming into the man's face as soon as he pulls the trigger, stopping the bullet from finding its intended mark.

Harley ducks behind a pole, heart hammering, as soon as the man turns to see where the disturbance had come from.

"I want my gun," Harley mutters to himself, whining.

When he peeks back into the street, he sees Tony slam himself into a storefront and Harley winces at all the flying glass. A woman, just as, if not more, creepy and fiery as Baldy cocks a shotgun and shoots it into the broken window. Harley hears the sound of more things breaking, and he gets ready to run after the woman. He doesn't have hope that his knife will be able to hurt whatever these people are, but he's willing to risk it for Tony.

At the very least, he's pretty resistant to fire. Not immune like Leo, but it'll take a lot of heat to truly damage his skin.

The woman fires another shot, walking closer to where Tony is hiding, and Harley lunges out from behind his hiding spot—

Only to feel a hand clamp around his upper arm.

Harley instinctively kicks out with his leg, hitting the man right in the kneecap and he looks up to see Baldy snarling at him. His eyes glow demon red and Harley feels the skin around his arm heat up. His other hand leisurely holds a gun to Harley's head.

He gulps.

The heat on his arm isn't painful yet, but Harley tenses anyways. He can't outrun a bullet, after all.

"You're comin' with me," Baldy grins.

"Fuck you," Harley spits on his shoe because even if he can't fight back physically, there's no chance he'll go quietly.

Baldy's eyes flash red again, but he just tightens his grip and starts to drag Harley away. When they reach a large water tower, he throws him to the ground and keeps the gun trained on him. Harley watches in horror as he uses his fire to heat the metal that makes up the base of the tower.

The foundation creaks dangerously, the structure tilting, and it falls, slowly at first, and then all too fast.

"No, Tony!" Harley cries, but Baldy pushes him back again.

He holds his breath for way too long waiting for the water to clear and he prays to the gods that Tony is okay. After what feels like forever, he finally spots him. He's soaking wet and his leg is trapped under a broken metal bar, but he's alive.

Before he can feel too relieved, Baldy reaches down and swings him up and over his shoulder.

"Let me go," Harley snarls, beating his fists down on the man's back, but the angle is all wrong and the punches come out too weak to hurt whatever brand of superhuman Baldy is.

"Help me, help me!" Baldy mocks him back in a high-pitched voice.

He twists Harley around and sits down, arms wrapped painfully tight around his body. Harley tries to wiggle out of his grip, but Baldy's body is heating up, and each time he struggles, the embrace gets a little more painful.

"Anyways," Baldy said, leaning his head out to the side to look at him, "Hey kid, what would you like for Christmas?"

"An icicle," he snaps, instantly disgusted, "So I can shove it up your—"

Everything gets hotter, his vision flashing, and Harley's breath stutters when it touches the border of truly painful. He hears Baldy chuckle humorlessly and Tony lets out a half-choking sound.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Harley gasps out.

"Oh. No, no, I think he was trying to say, 'I want my goddamn file'" Baldy interrupts, and finally the heat dies down to a more manageable level.

Tony looks like he's about to panic, his hands pulling on the metal bar more frantically, but it still refuses to budge. Baldy's eyes are still glowing, and Harley knows that to Tony, it probably looks like Harley's in bad shape.

"It's not your fault kid," Tony gets out, eyes never leaving his. Harley sees him shift his hand, metal flashing inside his palm. "Remember what I told you about bullies?"

And oh. Oh.

Harley gets the plan.

He subtly reaches into his pocket and closes his hand around his shiny new toy. He then wrenches his arm up and out of Baldy's grip, and at the right second, he presses the button.

An excruciatingly bright flare bursts out, startling Baldy and when the man's grip around him loosens, Harley jams his outstretched elbow into his face at full strength, earning a howl of pain. Then, Harley throws himself to the ground, scurrying to get out of the way. He turns around just in time to see Tony fire his hand repulsor into Baldy's forehead, sending him backward and slamming into building material when he lands. His body twitches for a moment and then stills.

Harley grins, despite the gruesome scene, and silently pumps his fist into the air.

He walks back towards Tony, and crouches down, shifting his feet out for support. He wraps his both hands around the offending bar and pulls. He only has to displace it slightly before Tony gets enough leeway to yank his foot out from under. Harley doesn't think Tony, still in his adrenaline-fueled state, registers anything unusual about the display of strength.

Tony hobbles out of the rubble and over to Baldy, reaching a hand inside his jacket to pull out a set of car keys.

"You're welcome," Harley comments, sarcastically.

"For what? Did I miss something?" Tony asks innocently, walking back to the main part of town with Harley in tow.

"Me, saving your life," Harley snipes back, slugging the other man in the arm, and being careful enough to pull back.

"Yeah. A, I saved you first. B, thanks. Sort of. And C, if you do someone a solid, don't be a yutz," Tony tells him, "All right? Just play it cool. Otherwise, you come off grandiose."

Harley wants to ask him what the Hades a yutz is, but instead, he retorts, "Unlike you?"

Tony ignores that and pulls out the key he grabbed. He presses the button to unlock the car, and, after two short beeps, he grabs the door handle.

"You're stealing Baldy's car? Nice," Harley snickers.

Tony turns to look at him, eyebrows raised.

"Baldy?" he asks.

"It's pretty self-explanatory," Harley deadpans.

Tony reaches inside the car and places the file he picked up from the bar in the passenger seat. He moves to enter, but Harley grabs the car door.

"Admit it," he continues, smirking, "You need me. We're connected."

Tony pauses, skepticism written all over his face.

"What I need, is for you to go home, be with your mom, keep your trap shut, guard the suit and stay connected to the telephone because if I call, you better pick up," Tony instructs, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder, then straightens his back, "Okay, can you feel that? We're done here. Move it out the way or I'm going to run you over. Bye kid."

Tony finally enters the driver's seat, feet first, and snaps the door closed behind him. The engine shutters to life and Harley thinks for a second he's just going to drive away, but he surprises him by rolling down the window.

"I'm sorry, kid, you did good," Tony says, in a rare moment of sincerity.

Harley didn't need him to say it, but he appreciates it anyway. Talking to Tony feels like interacting with his siblings. Most of them spend all their time working on their inventions, but they always manage to understand each other even without words. Harley can tell what Tony means even if what he says is the opposite.

"So now you're just gonna leave me here, like my dad?"

Harley's fighting back a grin and doing a very good job at it because when Tony says, "Yeah," there's a sliver of hesitation.

Then he blinks, eyes narrowing.

"Wait, you're guilt-tripping me, aren't you?" he accuses.

Harley contorts his face into something childish and pitiful, wrapping his arms around his body.

"I'm cold," he whines.

"I can tell," Tony pouts mockingly, but there's amusement behind his eyes, "You know how I can tell?"

Harley huddles closer into himself to sell the bit.

"Cuz we're connected."

Tony speeds off just barely after those words, a real grin on his face.

Harley unravels, snickering to himself as he watches Baldy's Tony's car screech dangerously around the corner.

"It was worth a shot."

He shrugs, turning back to head home, but stops and groans when he glances down to see all the singe marks and rips in his jacket. His mom was going to flip.

At dinner, after his siblings are all settled in their respective unofficial assigned seats, Harley grips his magical goblet and tells it, "Salted caramel frappuccino."

The cup instantly fills to the brim with what Harley considers to be the nectar of mortals, and a bent metal straw appears on top. The siblings closest to him stare at his genius with wide eyes.

"You…" Ayano trails off.

"Some of my ideas don't actually end in explosions and death," Harley grins up at her, proud because he had the idea a couple of weeks ago when thinking about how jealous he was of other kids who had access to multiple Starbucks in their vicinity while Harley had none, "Some."

Leo grips his own goblet and says, "Whitechocolatemochafrappucino," the words rushing out of his as fast as he can.

Before the magic cup can even fulfill his request, however, Nyssa reaches over the table and snatches it, saying, "Orange juice," before handing it back to him.

Leo looks at her in betrayal but none of the others rise to his defense, so he looks pleadingly toward Harley.

"I actually wanna be able to sleep in my own cabin tonight," Harley says, knowing that Leo would not come off that resulting sugar rush until the crack of dawn.

Leo lets out a long-suffering sigh and sips his juice.

"O-kay," Casper says, glancing at Leo from the side like he's going to go behind their backs and change his drink again, "Tell us about Tony, Harls."

"Oh, yeah," Topaz nods eagerly, "I want to know more about our new brother."

No one bothers to correct them to say he's not their brother, yet.

Harley takes a long sip out of his goblet, partly to build suspense and partly to think of what he should say.

"He's kind of an ass," Harley finally reveals, "But he's, like, crazy smart and really good at building things. And he only comes off as mean 'cause he doesn't know how to talk to people all that well. Once you get past that, he's actually really nice."

By the end of his little spiel, his siblings all have little fond smiles on their faces.

"So, he's just like us, then?" Jake rumbles with soft laughter.

Some of his siblings snort, but no one disagrees. Harley leans forward on the table, his elbows digging into the wood.

"I think he puts a lot of pressure on himself, too much," Harley confesses, a frown gracing his face, "When I met him, he looked really tired, but even then, he was still making jokes and trying to fix stuff."

Leo shifts in his seat next to Harley, the description hitting a little too close to home. From the other side, Shane bumps shoulders with him in a comforting manner.

"Yeah, okay, we're so adopting him," Leo announces, clearing his throat.

Ayano snickers.

"So, we've gone from fixing machines to fixing people now, huh," she comments, and the rest of the tables huffs in amusement.

"Okay, as of right now, our top arguments are…" Nyssa brings her hand up to count on her fingers, "One, he's a mechanic, like the rest of us. Two, he needs support from people who understand him. Three…we need something logical, to convince dad. Any ideas?"

"Duh," Casper pipes up, "He's smart, we're smart, and together we're gonna make so many explosions."

"Inventions," Jake corrects, but no one acknowledges him.

"Ya think he'll let us incorporate some of our ideas into the suit?" Shane asks.

"I suggested retro, uh, retroreflective panels for stealth mode and he said it was a good idea," Harley puffs up with pride, "So I think, yeah."

Shane grins, and it comes off a little manic, and Harley wonders if he should've said no.

"Okay, three, cooler inventions. Dad's always interested in what we build so I think this could work," Nyssa catalogs.

"Good work kiddos," Leo praises, despite not being the oldest, and then Chiron's outstretched arm catches his attention, "Oh, it's time for the sacrifice."

The Hephaestus kids stand up and file into a line. One by one, they bow their heads towards the flame, scraping off a portion of their plate into the fire, and mutter their prayers.

After dinner, with their bellies stuffed and hunger satisfied, they make their way to the campfire. Vivek jogs away from his siblings to catch up with them.

"Hey, I've been wondering," he starts, once they turn to acknowledge him, "Have you thought about the consequences?"

His question is met with eight blank faces.

"Of adopting a mortal," he clarifies, "And an Avenger at that."

He watches as the Hephaestus kids all shoot each other confused looks.

"Iron Man works very closely with Hawkeye and the Black Widow, both of whom are SHIELD agents. Have you considered the possibility of SHIELD finding out about us?" Vivek asks, bringing up what he knows is an extremely valid concern.

"The Hades is SHIELD?" Shane asks, and, as he looks around, his siblings all have the same question on the tips of their tongues.

Vivek closes his eyes briefly in exasperation.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division," he explains, "They're a sort of spy agency that works in the background alongside the government, and honestly, they're known for doing some really shady things. If they find out about demigods, who knows what they'll do to us."

"What kind of shady things?" Nyssa asks, brows furrowing.

"Imala helped me hack into their system and we looked over their latest mission files and there's a ton of reports about experimentation, alien artifacts, enhanced individuals, etcetera. It's really suspicious because the public doesn't know about any of this stuff," Vivek warns, wringing his fingers, "And there's…something else. I don't know what it is yet, Im says it's buried really deep so she's gonna look into it later, but whatever it is, it's spooking her, bad."

Harley chews the inside of his mouth, worried.

"If that's the case…" Leo hesitates, "Then we really have to get Tony away from them."

That's… not the answer Vivek was expecting, but he can't say he disagrees. Nyssa places a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll be careful," she concedes, "Just keep us updated on what Imala finds."

Vivek nods and then jogs away back to his siblings. Harley watches as he and Imala have a rapid-fire exchange, where she frowns. The girl turns towards them, solemn, but nods once, and Harley is glad she's on their side.

The next morning, before breakfast, The Hephaestus kids gather in the forge. Casper is still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and many of them have somehow already acquired grease stains on their clothing. Leo has already set himself on fire once and it hasn't even hit 7:30 AM.

Topaz rubs their hands together and then claps.

"Alright, how are we doing this?"

After the campfire last night, they perfected and prepared their argument and now, they're ready to present.

"We could ask for an audience during our breakfast sacrifice?" Ayano suggests, detangling her hair.

The others hum at the good idea.

"Or we could build something really cool and explosive and dedicate it to Dad? He'd probably meet with us then," Shane theorizes, and they pause to consider it, because that, too, sounds like a good idea.

"What if he's really busy and misses the prayer?" Leo cuts in, and Jake frowns.

"That is a possibility," he hesitates.

Harley stays silent, taking in their ideas.

"Oh, before I forget," Topaz mutters, turning around to grab a hose, "It's gonna take a while to soften so lemme just start this now."

They turn on the water to a soft spray setting and position it to point at a large slab of dried clay. Their siblings look on in interest.

"New project?" Nyssa questions, and Topaz shrugs.

"Just testing out a theory about the material."

"We could just pray at every meal until he hears it?" Shane proposes.

"That could take forever," Ayano complains, getting the last of her knots.

Harley frowns deeper, he wanted to do this as soon as possible. The faster they talked to Hephaestus, the faster he could help Tony. Some of the water from the hose lightly falls on his face and he turns, squinting as he encounters a few rays of the early morning sun.

"If we did the invention route, what would we make?" Leo shifts the conversation.

"But building something good enough could take just as much time as the sacrifice," Jake points out.

"Should we just do both?" Nyssa posits.

Casper rubs his eyes furiously and looks to Harley to see if his younger brother has any ideas, and blinks. And blinks again.

"Uh, guys," he pipes in, hesitant, and they all turn to see what he has to say, "I think Harley's got it."

"Huh?" Ayano asks.

Their gazes all shift over to their youngest brother just in time to see the boy flip a drachma into the rainbow conveniently created by the hose and the sun.

"Um," Leo steps forward, nervous, "Harls, maybe that's—"

But it's too late. The drachma disappears in the light and Harley's already started to speak.

"Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering."

Realization dawns on the rest of his siblings and they shuffle nervously, but Harley keeps going.

"Show me Lord Hephaestus."

One week earlier:

Harleys leans back in his chair, wheels squeaking, and twirls his knife around in his hand absentmindedly. With his free hand, he reaches forward and grabs some more candy, popping it in his mouth. He contemplates asking some of the Ares kids to teach him wrestling, for when he doesn't have a weapon on him. His tussle with Baldy earlier sparked a need to defend himself better. He's not bad at fighting, but he could maybe spare a few hours away from his projects to spar with the other demigods some more.

The phone rings suddenly, and Harley stops messing with the knife, reaching over to pick it up. It's a fossil of a phone, really, so he doesn't worry too much about attracting monsters. He holds the receiver up to his ear, digging in the bowl for more candy.

"Harley, tell me what's happening," Tony's voice sounds, "Give me a full report."

"Yeah, I'm still eating that candy," he grins, "Do you want me to keep eating it?"

"How much you had?" Tony asks.

Harley racks his brain for a moment, chewing, then answers, "Two or three bowls."

"Can you still see straight?"

Harley squints.

"Sort of."

My hands won't stop shaking though, is what he doesn't say.

"That means you're fine," Tony informs him, and it's such a demigod thing to say that Harley has to smile again, "Give me Jarvis."

Harley places the receiver over Iron Man's scratched-up helmet.

"Jarvis, how are we?"

Tony's voice is a little muffled, but still audible.

"It's totally fine, sir. I seem to do quite well for a stretch, and then at the end of the sentence I say the wrong cranberry," the AI responds crisply.

Harley squints his eyes at the screen again. His expertise isn't code—that's his sister, Ayano, who's blessed with only mild dyslexia—but he might know enough to try to help. If only the letters were a little bigger and slash or in ancient Greek.

"And sir, you were right," Jarvis continues, in that awesome British accent of his, Harley notes, "Once I factored in available AIM downlink facilities, I was able to pinpoint the Mandarin's broadcast signal."

"What are we talking?" Tony asks, then rattles off names, "Far East, Europe, North Africa, Iran, Pakistan, Syria? Where is it?"

"Actually sir, it's in Miami."

Harley tilts his head at the hint of genuine surprise in the AI's voice.

"Okay, kid," Tony addresses him, and Harley snaps back into attention, "I'm gonna have to walk you through rebooting Jarvis's speech drive, but not right now. Harley, where is he really? Just look on the screen and tell me where it is."

"Um," Harley pauses and places his head closer to the screen.

It doesn't really help matters. The letters are still jumbled and now there's also a slight pressure in his head.

"Kid, just read it to me," Tony urges.

"I have dyslexia," Harley snaps back, then calms down and mutters, "Just gimme a second, old man."

"Oh," Tony pauses, then, in a downright offended tone "Old man?"

The pinpoint is inside Florida, he realizes, by zooming out on the map and identifying the shape of the state. Finally, the letters he's able to make out, coupled with the Florida constraint, are enough to safely assume that the location is, in fact, Miami.

Harley picks the receiver back up.

"Um, it does say Miami, Florida," he confirms and is relieved when Tony trusts him enough not to question it.

"Okay, first thing's first. I need the armor. Where are we at with it?"

"It's not charging—" Harley begins.

Over the phone, there's a terrifyingly loud screech as the car veers off to the road and comes to a stuttering stop.

"—Fast enough," Harley finishes, a little meekly.

He didn't mean to freak Tony out like that, and now he feels guilty as the sound of Tony's too-fast breathing fills his ears.

"He's right sir. The suit is charging, but the power source is questionable. It may not succeed in revitalizing the Mark 42," Jarvis reveals.

Tony made as well as he could do with Harley's shed supplies, but Harley's family doesn't have money like that. They can't afford a state-of-the-art lab or shop, and he's fine with that. A little bummed, but he always makes up for the lost building time at camp. But now, that means that Tony's makeshift charging station isn't the most efficient, and Harley doesn't know what else he could do to help power it.

"What's questionable about electricity? All right?" Tony barks and Harley can hear panic under the snark, "It's my suit, and I can't…I'm not gonna…I don't wanna…oh god, not again…"

Tony gasps for breath between the phrases and Harley has to stop himself from telling the man to maybe rethink his previous stance on PTSD.

"Tony?" he asks hesitantly, instead, "Are you having another attack? I didn't even mention New York."

Harley's going to stab himself in his eye, he should not have said that.

"Right, and then you just said it by name while denying having said it," Tony bites out.

His voice sounds farther away now, so Harley figures he got out of the car for some air.

"Okay, um, uh…" Harley trails off, trying desperately to figure out what to say.

"Oh, god, what I am gonna do?" Tony gasps out.

"Just breathe," Harley advises, biting his lip, then gaining confidence, "Really, just breathe."

Harley thinks back to the time when Cabin 9 was still cursed, when everything he built seemed to break instantly. Every single one of his creations malfunctioned, and maybe he could've stopped building. But he didn't. He loved it too much to stop.

"You're a mechanic, right?"

There's silence over the phone and then—

"Yeah."

Tony's voice is still shaking, but he doesn't sound short of breath anymore, which Harley takes as progress.

"You said so," Harley tells him because he needs to make sure Tony gets it.

"Yes, I did," Tony agrees, starting to sound more confident now.

"Why don't you just build something?" Harley says, simply.

And maybe this oversimplified advice wouldn't work on other people, but Harley knows mechanics. Mechanics like him, like Leo, and Nyssa and Ayano and Topaz, and like Tony. He knows how they think, how they operate, how they feel. He knows this will work.

Tony's breathing is back to normal now, and Harley can tell by the way he can't hear it over the phone anymore.

"Okay," Tony announces suddenly, and Harley's relieved when he hears Tony's default unbothered cadence, "Thanks, kid."

The praise comes much more easily than before. Harley hears the car door shut and grins. The Mechanic is back in business.

Six days earlier:

Abby happily kicks her feet back and forth in the air, as she spears a bite of syrup drowned pancake on her fork and sticks the whole piece in her mouth. Harley watches her fondly and makes progress on his own stack. His mom hums as she pours yet another round of batter onto the pan. Harley's a growing boy, and if his mom is willing to make him ten pancakes, then he's more than willing to eat them all.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, honey," his mom apologizes, stepping over to ruffle his hair, "Wanna try again tonight? I picked up hot chocolate on the way back."

Harley nods as Abby cheers, accidentally flinging some syrup his way. He rubs his cheek, but frowns when it turns sticky and his sister giggles at him.

"What'd you get up to last night, anyway?" his mom questions, sticking her spatula under the pancakes to see how much they've cooked through.

Harley ducks his chin to his chest.

"Oh, nothing much," he mumbles vaguely.

When he looks back up, Abby is staring.

"My watch is missing," she informs him, pointing her knife in his direction.

Abby's not a demigod, but it seems like she's picked up a few habits from him, and Harley can't tell if that's a good or bad thing. He mouths an I'll tell you later right before his mom comes over to scold her into putting the utensil back down.

They enjoy the quiet of the morning for a while, before something, naturally, breaks the calm. Harley hears the rumble first, but just barely, before it gets loud enough for his mom and sister to also pick up on it. He's able to pinpoint the location quickly, and he gets up to stare out the kitchen window.

The door to the shed is shaking like something's struggling to get out, and the small metal lock is the only thing keeping it in. From close behind him, his mom sucks in a sharp breath seeing the source of the sound.

"Monster?" she asks shakily.

"What? What's happening?" Abby pleads, trying to reach the window as well, "I wanna see!"

"Shit," Harley curses, finally realizing what's going on and he bolts out the back door, ignoring his mom's shouts behind him.

Once he's outside, he approaches the shed slowly. With as much distance between him and the door as he can manage, he reaches out and grasps the lock. He channels his strength and pulls sharply, the metal snapping beneath his fingers, and, all of a sudden, he's blown backward.

He hits the grass on his back only slightly painfully and he looks up just in time to see pieces of the Iron Man armor flying out and up into the sky. It's beautiful, how fast they're moving, and he grins in awe, forgetting where he is for a second.

"Harley…" he hears a voice call out in just barely restrained rage.

He turns around to see his mom standing in the doorway and his heart drops. Her arms are crossed over her chest, lips pursed, and although she might have been worried earlier, the look on her face now is pure anger.

"Was that the Iron Man?" Abby squeals, running up to him to look through the shed doorway.

Harley tries for a smile, but it ends up a grimace.

"Haha, so, funny story…" he trails off, unable to continue in the face of his impending lifetime grounding.

At least Tony's probably okay, he concedes miserably.

Harley and his siblings watch with bated breath as the rainbow in front of them shimmers for a beat too long. Suddenly, however, an image takes shape and Ayano's mouth drops open.

Their father's back is turned on them, and he lifts a large hammer impressively high before bringing it slamming down, and the sound of the metal nearly bursts all their eardrums.

"Who dares—," Hephaestus rumbles, turning to face the message, "Oh. Harley?"

He sounds absolutely baffled, an apt reaction to someone having the gall to Iris message a god.

"Hey, dad!" Harley beams like he's simply greeting a friend.

"My children," Hephaestus says, almost bemusedly, "What is the reason for this call?"

Harley can count on one hand the number of times he's met his father but seeing him always makes him smile. Something about the enormous stature of the man, and his permanent scowl softening at the sight of his children is immensely comforting.

"Can you…Can we ask for an audience? With you?" Harley asks.

Hephaestus tilts his head, considering.

"We wanted to talk to you about something important," Leo explains, stepping forward and putting an arm around Harley.

"Please?" Harley widens his eyes innocently.

Hephaestus glances around the room and finds that all of his children are nodding and staring at him with similar looks.

"I suppose I can spare some time away from the forge," the god muses, rubbing some fire out of his beard and glancing towards his work, "Alright, close your eyes."

Hephaestus swipes his hand through the message and all his children follow the instruction.

"Harley, you godsdamn genius," Topaz mutters as they wait.

Only a few seconds later, the kids of Cabin 9 feel the brightness hit their eyelids, their vision tinting orange as the light filters through the thin layer of skin. When the flash finally dies down, they carefully peel their eyes back open.

Lord Hephaestus stands towering above them, still well over six feet tall even at his mortal height. The god glances up to the ceiling, taking note of the four feet wide hole in the roof, and Harley blushes.

"So…" Harley starts.

"So," their dad echoes, eyebrows raised.

"Um," Harleys continues.

"Spit it out, child," Hephaestus urges, not unkindly, and pulls out a stool from one of the tables to take a seat.

Seeing the god sit down, Harley feels a little more comfortable. He wishes Leo or Nyssa or Jake would take over, but he knows this is his responsibility. It was his idea, after all.

"So, Vivek from Cabin 6 told us the story about your kid with Gaia, Eric, and how Lady Athena adopted him and made him her own…" Harley begins, and maybe that wasn't the best way to start, with the way everyone in the room, including Hephaestus, grimaces, "Anyways, now that we know that it's possible, because Lady Athena was able to do it, which means you should be able to do it too, so we were wondering if…"

Leo squeezes his shoulder once more to cease his rambling and nods encouragingly.

Harley takes a deep breath.

"Could you adopt Tony Stark?"

There's complete silence.

"Could I—what?"

Leo doesn't think he's ever heard a god sound so lost, but if anyone would have that effect, it's Harley.

"Could you make Tony Stark our brother?" Harley clarifies, "Like in a godly manner."

Hephaestus seems to finally understand what his children are asking of him, even if he doesn't understand why they are asking in the first place. And Leo hopes the request is just crazy enough to blindside him into saying yes.

"And why," the god questions, pausing, "Should I do such a thing?"

Harley uses his hand to gesture 'come forward' behind his back and Nyssa takes the signal to grab their dad's attention.

"Father, we've prepared an argument for you," she begins professionally, clicking a remote in her hand and pointing it to the left.

Hephaestus's head follows the movement to a small machine projecting an image on the wall. The title reads 'Why Tony Stark would make a good brother' in fiery red font splayed against a pale orange background. Hephaestus raises his eyebrows at the use of visual aid and Topaz preens.

"Number one," Nyssa reports, clicking to the next slide, which is littered with images of Tony's creations, "He is a Mechanic, like all of us here. He is practically a child of the forge already, so why not make it official?"

"Why not, indeed," Hephaestus repeats, only a little sarcastically, and Nyssa takes that as a sign to continue.

She clicks to the next slide.

Topaz had struggled to find pictures to represent this next part of the argument, so they had resolved to include a family photo of all the siblings in the forge, with Tony photoshopped, somewhat badly, into the group.

"Number two," Nyssa continues, stepping closer to the projection to gesture to the image, "Tony needs to be surrounded by people who understand him. Us Cabin 9 kids are those people."

Hephaestus wonders how he got here, and if the fates are messing with him.

"Lastly, Number three," Nyssa concludes, clicking to the final slide, "If given the chance to work with Tony Stark, our combined genius will inspire inventions like you've never seen before, advances in science and technology that will truly blow your mind."

Nyssa clicks a button, and the screen virtually explodes, with sound effects and everything. Topaz grins. They're particularly proud of that animation.

"So, whatdya say dad?" Harley asks in the silence following the grand finale, dissolving the professionalism, which, they're not Athena kids, okay?

Hephaestus plans to say no, he honestly does, because, really, what business does he have adopting a mortal? No matter how brilliant and Hephaestus-like he knows Stark already is, Zeus would strike him where he stands. Not to mention, the plethora of dangers involved with not only exposing but also integrating a mortal into the mythological world.

But he looks around the room into the eyes of his children, into Harley's eyes. And his youngest son is clenching his fists and looking so, so hopeful that Hephaestus can't help but cave in.

To Hades with it, if Artemis could welcome mortal maidens into her hunt…

"Alright," he groans.

The room erupts into thunderous cheers. His daughter Ayano and son Shane grab onto each other's arms and jump up and down. Even Jake is smiling ear to ear.

And Harley lunges forward, wrapping the god into a hug as best as he can, muttering his thanks, and Hephaestus pats him awkwardly on the back, not used to the physical affection. When Harley pulls away, he pointedly doesn't comment on his shining eyes. The boy then turns to give Leo just as big a hug.

Something suddenly occurs to Hephaestus, and he clears his throat to get the attention of his children. They, unsurprisingly, don't hear him over their still ongoing cheers and he tries again, somewhat louder. Casper notices first and quiets his siblings to hear what the god has to say.

"Have any of you even discussed this with Stark?" Hephaestus asks.

All of his kids freeze.

Tony pauses in his story, picking his head up from the sofa to look over at his companion.

"Are you with me?" he asks.

Bruce Banner rubs his eyes quickly.

"Sorry…I was, yeah. We were at, uh…" the man trails off.

"Are you actively napping?" Tony inquires, incredulous.

His friend stammers.

"I was…I…I drifted," he confesses, looking slightly guilty.

"Where did I lose you?" Tony presses, because maybe he can salvage this, maybe he only has to rehash the last minute.

"Elevator in Switzerland."

Nevermind.

"So. You heard none of it?"

And where Tony had felt lighter only seconds ago, he now feels even more tired than usual.

Bruce winces.

"I'm sorry. I'm not that kind of doctor. I'm not a therapist. It's not my training," Bruce tries to explain, but Tony raises his eyebrows. He was under the impression that he was simply telling his friend a story.

"So?" he asks, incredulous.

"I don't have the…" Bruce trails off again, leaving Tony to try to guess what he means.

"What? The time?"

"The temperament," Bruce finishes, grimacing.

When his friend yawns once more, Tony sags and waves off the incoming apologies.

"You know what? It's fine," he mutters.

It's not, but he's too tired to start anything so he gets up and has Jarvis call him an elevator to his penthouse floor.

Dragging his feet towards the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee, he wonders if he should go through the effort of trying to tell Rhodey or Pepper everything he just tried to tell Bruce, but he doesn't know if they'd understand him. He places a mug under his much too advanced coffee machine and mindlessly presses a few buttons to customize his brew. The coffee is ready almost instantly but as soon as Tony picks up the mug, there's an enormous flash of light behind him.

Tony whirls around, the coffee sloshing, and almost drops his mug but doesn't.

"You have visitors, sir," Jarvis announces mildly, "One Harley Keener and, I apologize, sir, I am unable to identify the second individual."

"Real helpful, J," Tony mutters to his AI, hand over his heart.

"What the fuck, Harley, how did you get in here? And who the fuck are you?" Tony demands, eyes flitting between the boy and the other man.

Tony hasn't seen Harley since before Christmas and suddenly the kid is magically teleporting into his tower? He looks the same as before but is wearing a bright orange short sleeve shirt, littered with burn marks, and Tony wonders how he didn't notice that the kid is scarily buff.

And then there's the other man, if he can even be called that because he looks much more like a giant. He's probably the tallest guy Tony has ever encountered, with a stature that easily rivals Steve and Thor, combined. His face is gruff, with a large untamed beard, and adorned with a resting scowl.

There's something inexplicably powerful and intimidating about him, and Tony swears the air around them warms. It immediately puts him on edge, given the experience he's just had with exploding people.

"Hey, Tony!" Harley greets him brightly, like nothing is wrong, "Oh, yeah, and this is my dad!"

Tony's eyebrows raise all the way to the ceiling.

"You told me your dad left you six years ago," he accuses because it's the only thing he can think to say.

"That was Abby's dad, my step-dad," he clarifies, toeing the ground and looking somewhat guilty, "This is my real one.

Harley looks all the way up at the unknown man with a small smile, and although the man's face doesn't change, Tony can see the way his eyes soften.

"Step-dad walked out, and your bio one is somehow standing in my heavily secured, private personal home. Sure, okay. Wanna tell me what you're doing in here?" Tony pauses, "Or how you got here?"

"Dad brought us here," Harley explains, which actually explains nothing, and Tony can feel a headache building, "I wanted to ask you something."

"Ever heard of a cellphone?" Tony retorts, trying to figure out how to discreetly call the Iron Man armor.

"I don't have your number," Harley frowns like that bothers him.

"Son," his dad finally speaks, placing a hand on his shoulder, and Tony blinks at how deep it is, "Perhaps we should address why we have come here."

Tony doesn't want to think about the fact that he finds that gesture comforting, because he should really be more freaked out than he currently is. At least he's holding it together.

"Right. Well," Harley chews his lip, "I convinced dad to adopt you."

Tony's not sure he heard that right.

"What?" he manages to strangle out.

Harley's dad sighs, deep and long, at his son's lack of tact.

"Perhaps that was not the way to begin," the man rumbles, "Let me properly introduce myself."

Harley's dad removes his hand from his son's shoulder and steps forward. Tony's not sure where his self-preservation went because he should be stepping back or telling Jarvis to enact one of the security protocols, but instead he doesn't move, doesn't even flinch as this stranger approaches him.

"I am Hephaestus," the man announces, his voice echoing around the room even though that shouldn't be acoustically possible, and before Tony can crack a joke at the name, he continues, "Greek god of the forge, fire, technology, volcanoes, and blacksmiths."

Hephaestus's eyes burst into actual flames, and his casual clothing melts away into battle armor that only really covers the bottom half of his body. Leather straps wrap around sections of his upper body and arms, and the metal parts of the armor glow red hot. In his hand is an enormous hammer, bronze and terrifying and on fire.

Tony freezes.

What the fuck.

"This can't be real," he wheezes, putting his coffee mug down and gripping the edge of the countertop, "I'm totally seeing things now, Jarvis—"

Hephaestus chuckles, swinging the hammer up, and Tony gapes when it disappears into his shoulder pad.

"You just fought with a man you believed to be a Norse deity, did you not? And yet you think of me as a hallucination?"

Hephaestus's battle armor is gone as quickly as it came, but his eyes remain tiny balls of fire, and the longer Tony looks, the more he's sucked into them. He feels the heat of a roaring forge on his face, flames licking the edges of his vision. The distant sounds of clanging fill his ears and the smell of smoke enters his nostrils, and it all feels…familiar somehow.

Harley bounds up towards them, pulling out a high stool and taking a seat at the edge of the counter. He leans over and smacks Hephaestus's arm lightly.

"Put those away, dad, you're scaring him," Harley chides, and the spell breaks.

Tony remains speechless, as the man—god?—huffs and blinks away the flames, replacing them with deep orange irises.

"You're actually a god," Tony breathes, brain finally rebooting, "Should've known it wouldn't stop with Thor, the Greek gods are real and there's one in my house."

"Well, Thor's not a real god," Harley says, scrunching his nose and looking up at Hephaestus, like he's not dropping a bomb of information, "Right?"

"That is correct," Hephaestus praises, then turns to Tony to explain, "True gods are beings created and influenced by mortal conceptualizations. Their very existence is tied to these ideas."

The god brings his hand up, and a ball of fire appears, twisting and whirling in the air above his palm. Tony, watches, transfixed by the detailed designs he can make out in the flames.

"I am the god of invention," he continues, his voice heavy and laced with power, "I have existed since mankind crafted their first tools and I will continue to exist for as long as they will strive to create."

"Thor's just an alien," Harley adds.

Hephaestus closes his fist, the fire disappearing inside.

Tony swallows.

"…Checks out," he replies faintly, "Greek gods are real, Norse gods not so much."

Harley frowns and opens his mouth to tell him about the Romans, and the fact that the Norse gods were real, just that Thor and the Asgardians weren't actually them, and also maybe about the Egyptians, but his dad places a hand on his shoulder to stop him from shattering Tony's mind.

Suddenly, Tony makes a face, whirling on Harley.

"You, shortstack," he points accusingly, "You're a god?"

Harley giggles, and then full out laughs, almost falling out of his chair.

"Of course not, he is a demigod," Hephaestus explains, when it becomes clear that Harley is too busy cackling to do it, "His mother is a mortal."

"Oh," Tony says, relieved because the kid being a god isn't something that he can handle, then narrows his eyes, "Why are you even telling me all this?"

"I already said," Harley straightens in his chair, wiping a tear from his eye, "Dad's gonna adopt you."

"My son and the rest of his siblings put in a great deal of effort to convince me," Hephaestus adds, and Harley nods seriously.

"Topaz made a powerpoint 'n everything."

Tony wonders how his life is even real at this point. He's flown a nuke through a wormhole in space, fought aliens and exploding people, and now a god, an actual god, wants to adopt him.

"Uh, why?" he asks, suspicious.

"'Cause you'd make an awesome brother, duh," Harley rolls his eyes and leans forward on the counter towards Tony, "And you seem lonely, are you lonely?"

Tony splutters.

"I have friends!" he replies indignantly.

Harley rolls his eyes, again. Jesus—wait can he say that?—the kid's sass is going to be the death of him.

"Like two," he mutters, then louder before Tony can retort, "But I meant family."

And Tony freezes. He wants to snap back at Harley, and say that of course, he has family, he has Rhodey and Pepper, and maybe soon he'll have the Avengers, but the words die on his tongue after the few seconds he's silent. Because he loves Rhodey and Pepper to death and he knows they love him, but it's not quite the same. And the Avengers… Bruce is his friend. Thor is, well, Thor. Natasha and Barton are spies and while he trusts them enough to fight with them, he doesn't know how to, or if he even wants to, pass the teammate stage. And Steve. Steve is difficult, given Howard's idolization of him, and he's either going to be his greatest ally or his greatest adversary and, at the moment, Tony isn't sure where he stands with the man.

"That's what I thought," Harley confirms, watching Tony's face as he analyzes each of his relationships.

Tony feels the urge to snap at him again, but the kid doesn't say it with malice. He says it with understanding.

Hephaestus reaches forward to grip his shoulder, and by some miracle, Tony allows it to happen instead of flinching away.

"You resemble my demigod children a great deal, Tony Stark," the god hums, "The offer is not unwarranted, I assure you, and while I may not have considered it before my children asked, I would be glad to claim you as my own."

The weight of Hephaestus's is warm and grounding, and Harley stares at him, wide-eyed and pleading. Tony thinks of his biological father, and the disappointment the man practically shoved into Tony's chest every chance he got. It only takes him a few seconds to decide.

"Fuck Howard," he announces, and then lets out a slightly disbelieving laugh, "Yeah, okay. Adopt away, old man."

And maybe it was a mistake to call an Olympian god an old man, but thankfully, Hephaestus's lips twitch upward, the small movement almost fully hidden by the beard, but Tony catches it. Harley laughs loudly and pumps a fist in the air, the happiness so transparent on his face that Tony can't help but smile along.

"Now what?" he asks, "Sign some papers? Complete twelve labors to prove my worth? Spit shake on it?"

Harley scrunches his nose in disgust.

"Heracles was an ass," he comments offhandedly.

Tony nods slowly and decides to ignore that tidbit for now.

Hephaestus puts another hand on Tony's other shoulder.

"Close your eyes, sons," he instructs, and Tony realizes with a start that he's addressing him and Harley.

Hephaestus chants something in a foreign language, likely Greek or ancient Greek, Tony's brain supplies, and his shoulders begin to warm. The temperature rises quickly, spreading up his neck and down to his legs, but, to Tony's surprise, it never gets painful, just hotter. The god's chants continue, and everything starts to tingle. Tony is suddenly acutely aware of every part of his body in a way he's never felt before. His eyelashes flutter individually, the hair at the base of his neck shifts, and the muscles in his leg twitch, ever so slightly. All the while, a light steadily builds behind his eyelids, glowing brighter and brighter. Tony's breathing picks up of its own accord, his body thrums, and his skin feels the hottest it's ever felt.

And then, all of a sudden, it stops.

"Open your eyes, child," Hephaestus's voice says, gently, and Tony feels like he hasn't heard it in years. How long has he been standing there?

He opens his eyes.

Things are sharper than they were before, brighter too, but not in a way that he could ever describe. The weird feeling of being able to observe his body is gone, but there's power itching in his fingers, something that should feel foreign, but instead feels just right.

He looks over at Harley, who's grinning at him in what looks like pride.

"Well? Watchya think?" the kid urges him.

"I feel…like me," Tony confesses, staring at his hands and then looking up at Hephaestus, "Did it work?"

"Of course," the god scoffs, "Though, you are not a demigod, in the truest sense of the term, in that the blood of the gods does not run through your veins. You do not possess the battle prowess that demigod children are inherently born with, nor their affinity to the ancient language."

Tony's face falls slightly.

"But," Hephaestus continues, "You have been claimed by me and as such, you possess the same connection to machines and technology that your siblings have. Try it. Reach out to your companion."

Tony takes a second to register his pride at Jarvis being acknowledged as his companion, something that people often fail to realize, disregarding him as just some lines of code. Then, although he doesn't quite know what the god is talking about, he follows his gut and imagines his mind expanding and brushing Jarvis's presence.

Tony inhales sharply.

He knows Jarvis is his own being, but now, he can actually feel him. It's the same way he can close his eyes and tell when someone is standing next to him, even without touching. The space between them feels different, charged with proximity, and the almost tangibility of his longtime friend makes his eyes moist.

"It's sick, right?" Harley grins, again, when he sees the moment Tony first makes contact with Jarvis.

"Holy shit," Tony breathes, his face matching the kid's.

Thunder rumbles in the sky, and Harley's expression becomes annoyed.

"Father requests my presence," Hephaestus sighs, regrettably, and Tony has to keep himself from startling, because if he remembers correctly, that's Zeus, "But before I leave you, I shall send you both to camp, so that Tony, you may meet your siblings."

Tony whirls on Harley.

"Wait," he demands, "How many?"

"How many what?" Harley parrots, innocently.

"You know what."

"Oh, not many, just twelve others," Harley replies, tugging casually on the bottom of his shirt, "But dad's Roman side, Vulcan, also has like a dozen. Plus, that's not counting the legacies so…"

Tony's jaw drops.

"I take it back," he says immediately, turning to Hephaestus, "Disown me. I can't deal with this."

The god merely chuckles.

"Goodbye children," he says, raising his hand, and the room starts to glow, "And good luck."

Harley grabs onto Tony, as it gets brighter and brighter.

"It's too late," he cackles gleefully, "I told you, didn't I?"

Tony has to shut his eyes then, and the sound of Harley's laughter echoes around his ears as his body is transported. He opens them to the sight of beautiful strawberry fields, to regal Greek architecture in various grand designs, and to kids running around with glinting metal in their hands, and, despite it being his first time setting foot in Camp Half-Blood, it feels so awfully familiar.

Harley tugs on his arm to get his attention, and when Tony looks down, there's a smirk on the kid's his brother's face, satisfied and proud.

"We're connected."

It's one of those lazy days, where the weather's too nice for people to bother with crime, and the Avengers are sprawled out in the common room, taking well-deserved breaks from their usual schedules. The team isn't quite in full attendance. Thor is off world somewhere, or maybe just not in the country, no one's really sure. Natasha and Steve are on the couch, the black widow annihilating the super soldier in a free-for-all round of Call of Duty. Clint is perched on the headrest, trying to distract Natasha so that Steve can finally get a leg up, but it's not working at all. Bruce is sitting on a single seat couch nearby, somehow reading what looks like a textbook through all the noise. Tony is also, unsurprisingly, absent.

They had all moved into the newly christened Avengers tower only a few days ago, and no one has seen Tony since then. The billionaire was always either traveling on official SI business or in his workshop, inventing away.

Suddenly, the elevator dings and the spies snap their heads towards the noise, knowing that everyone on the team is accounted for, so this must be a newcomer. Finally, Steve lands a shot on Natasha, and he turns to tell her about his victory, but the words die in his throat as they all, even Bruce who picks his head up from his book, watch Tony Stark emerge from the sliding metal doors.

Steve remembers meeting Tony during the Chitauri invasion. He remembers disliking the man right off the bat, hating the egotistical playboy that always needed to be the center of attention. He also remembers the moment he realized he had judged the man wrong.

But this Tony, the one flashing them a peace sign before heading straight the coffee machine, is not the one he remembers.

Tony Stark and Iron Man both walk with types of confidence appropriate for the respective masks, but this Tony possesses something entirely different. He can't quite tell what it is, but looking over at Natasha's eyes, sharp and unmoving from Tony's form, he knows that the woman has noticed, and with more clarity than he has.

It isn't any one thing, really. His face seems clearer, softer, and not as pulled tight as usual. His skin is a little darker like he's been getting more sun, a weird phenomenon for a man that spends all his free time tinkering in a lab. He's wearing his usual battered ACDC shirt, but the sleeves are missing, ripped off, it seems. It's a look that Steve is unfamiliar with on the man, and it allows him to notice that he looks healthier, more toned, than when he last saw him.

They watch, silently, as Tony punches in his coffee order on his ridiculous machine and places a mug underneath the spout before pressing start.

"Stark, nice to see you alive and kicking," Clint finally says, being the first one to properly greet their host.

Tony turns and smirks at them.

"Legolas!" he beams, leaning back against the counter his machine is on.

That's not a thing Tony's ever done before; he doesn't casually lean on things.

"You look," Natasha pauses, "Well."

"Thank you," Tony says, looking abnormally pleased, "Got into self-care recently. The gym, green smoothies, facemasks. You know how it goes."

Steve does not know. He's still catching up on this century, but he's quite sure that facemasks don't change a person as much as Tony has.

"Anyhow, how are you guys liking the tower?" Tony continues, skillfully twirling a spoon between his fingers, "Pepper told me you guys moved in last week. Sorry I wasn't here to give you the grand tour, I was out for a while, and then SI's Shanghai branch needed some support."

"It's really nice, Tony, thanks for letting us stay here," Steve gets his mouth to move, "Everything's great."

Tony hums, twisting his body to pick up his coffee.

"No biggie, Capsicle. Let me know if you need like a Beekeeping for Dummies, or help doing your taxes or something," the man offers, dumping a small spoonful of sugar into his drink and stirring it, "And Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I don't know what kind of ancient tech Fury has you using, but I'm upgrading your shit."

Clint grins at that.

"I want fart arrows."

"I can't believe that's the best you can think of," Tony snorts, rolling his eyes, "But I can make that happen."

Clint opens his mouth to request something else but is interrupted by Jarvis.

"Sir, I have a Super Sized McShizzle on the line, and I am forwarding it to your personal phone right now," the AI announces.

Tony scowls, as everyone raises their eyebrows at the name.

"I shouldn't have let him pick his own contact name," he mutters, annoyed, but slides open his phone and presses it to his ear regardless.

"What's up?" he greets the person on the other side, easily. He still sounds annoyed, but it's almost fond.

The chatter from the speaker is too soft for Steve's hearing to pick up on, but it goes on for a while, and Steve watches Tony's face go through a myriad of expressions. Apprehension, exasperation, disturbed, disbelief, astonishment. He's never seen Tony so open before.

Suddenly, the man lets out a bark of sharp but genuine laughter, that sends the Avengers reeling again. They haven't known the man that long, but it's still a foreign sound from him.

"Tell shortstack I'll be there this weekend," Tony says into the phone, still smiling, and after a few seconds, his tone melts into something more teasing, "If you can go twenty-four hours without setting something on fire, sure."

There's a pause.

"Yes, that includes yourself."

Another pause. Then, Tony lets out a very un-Tony like snort.

"I'm not letting you into my lab, Valdez, no chance."

The way he says it, though, implies differently, and Steve glances at Clint in bewilderment. Tony would never even think to let any of them in his private lab, except maybe Bruce, if only in the name of science, so who is this 'Valdez' that's earned the special privilege?

Natasha is still staring at Tony like he's a puzzle she can't seem to solve, and while Bruce is less fazed than the rest of them—or maybe just not as interested—he still seems to have a healthy curiosity about Tony's stark change. Steve scribbles that joke into his head, so he can use it later.

"Yes, I'm attending my sessions, yes, they're going good, don't micromanage me," Tony says flippantly into the phone, and Bruce's eyes sharpen at the word 'sessions'. It almost sounds like…

"Yeah, whatever," Tony says, speaking again, and seems to be wrapping up his call, "Tell the others I said hi."

With that, he hangs up, flashing another peace sign at them, before making his way back to the elevator with his coffee that's probably lukewarm by now.

After he's gone, Steve glances around to his teammates, trying to gauge if that was as weird for them as it was for him. Natasha looks thoughtful, then stands up, stretching languidly.

"I'll have to redo my initial report," she comments, mildly, before slinking back to her room.

They watch her go, and Clint sighs, taking her spot on the couch.

"That's as close to a 'I was wrong about him' as you'll get'," he translates for his partner, picking up the forgotten game controller, "But she's right, something's changed with Stark."

The joke is at the tip of Steve's tongue, but he knows it would be cheesy to use it now.

"I think," Bruce hesitates, when they both turn to him, "I think it's therapy."

"Huh," Clint says to himself, pressing his back against the couch once more.

Steve considers the ease in himself Tony seemed to display, the almost lack of tension in his shoulders, and makes a decision.

"Do you think he'd give me his therapist's number if I asked?"

Notes:

i'm not touching infinity war or endgame with a ten-foot pole, just assume that tony calls his family for help, thanos eats shit, and everyone lives, cool?

also, did i imply that the demigods find out about hydra but then never address it? yes. maybe it's to keep this storyline open and maybe it's because i was lazy and it didn't fit, stick around to find out!

and leave your comments! i'd love to know what you thought and if you liked it!