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mrslilyrogers · 5 years ago

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Betrayal Part 3

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s Notes: Hi guys! I am so overwhelmed by the response I’ve gotten from this!! Thank you all so much for bearing with me. I’ve had this idea for a while after countless times of listening to Sam Smith’s I’m not the only one LOL I’m so glad you guys are loving it! Here is the next part, we get to see a bit more about their background and their friends. I hope you all like it! Enjoy!

WARNINGS: ANGST, CHEATING

Part 1 Part 2

It was a warm, sunny day as Y/N, dressed in her favorite blue sundress, walked the streets of New York. She lifted her face up to the sky and smiled. It had been so long since she felt good about herself. The weather helped in getting her out of her slump but it was mostly because of her friends, Nat and Wanda, who insisted on having an impromptu girls night the night before. She decided not to tell them about her problems with Bucky as she didn’t want them to change the way they looked at him. They were a closely-knit group of college friends after all, a family. Besides, she still had no idea what to do. It was one thing to accept it in her head but her heart couldn’t seem to agree and add that to the fact that Nat would’ve probably told Clint, which wouldn’t have ended well.

So, for a night, she decided to put all her insecurities about her marriage on pause while she caught up with her friends, particularly Nat. She was the one who had insisted they go out because she had big news to tell and it turned out it was huge, she was finally pregnant! She and her husband, Bruce, had been trying for years so this was a huge deal for her. She was scared though, having gone through miscarriages in the past. The girls were quick to assure her that everything would turn out well, sure that they would be having a tiny, little redhead kicking butts in their family soon. Nat had laughed and told them it might as well be a baby who could spew equations before it could even walk. She then turned serious and made them promise not to tell anyone since she hasn’t even told Bruce yet, pointedly looking at Y/N, when she specifically mentioned the boys, Bucky, Steve and Clint. Y/N wanted to tell her that wouldn’t be a problem since she barely talked to Bucky but kept her mouth shut instead. No thinking of Bucky tonight, no thinking of Bucky tonight, she had reminded herself over and over until they fell back into reminiscing about their lives at college. It was still so mind boggling how far they’ve come from their days of drinking cheap beer from the bar across their university.

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Bucky had his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulder while his other held a bottle of beer poised at his lips, he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as they watched their friend, Clint, make his way up to the girl at the bar.

“He is shooting himself in the foot. He’s drunk, he wouldn’t be able to get on with her,” Wanda skeptically told the group, looking horrified.

“Oh come on, Wanda, have a little faith,” Nat tsked as she laughed, knowing the odds were against her best friend but found the situation hilarious and so she had egged him on.

“Nat, you are evil!” Y/N pitched in.

“This is really bad,” Steve said, shaking his head when Clint started making gestures of shooting an arrow in the air, then clutching his heart, probably giving out the cheesiest pick up line ever. Bucky just shook his head and laughed.

“Did he just pretend to be shot by an arrow through the heart? Why does he always end up giving the cheesiest pick up lines when he’s drunk?” Y/N laughingly asked in disbelief.

“Well, why not, it works when I do it to you?” Bucky teased her, a spark in his eye.

“No, it really doesn’t, Buck,” Y/N denied, smiling at him indulgently. Bucky made a move as if his phone was ringing, he picked it up and pretended to be in a call while his friends continued to watch Clint make an ass of himself.

“Babe,” He suddenly looked serious as he turned at her.

“Hm?” Y/N looked back at him, dragging her attention away from the spectacle in front of them.

“Cupid just called. He told me to tell you to give me my heart back.”

“Oh my god, Bucky, I swear, that’s so bad! That’s the worst you’ve ever said,” Y/N cringed and jokingly moved his face away from hers. Steve chuckled from his place while Nat and Wanda cringed in disbelief.

“Wow, you’re worse than Clint,” Wanda interjected, taking a sip from her beer, while Bucky ignored her.

“Ugh, I love that laugh! You know the only thing I wanna change about you?” Bucky asked again.

“What?” Y/N replied on a long sigh, knowing it would be best to just ride this out.

“Your last name,” Bucky replied, looking a little more serious as he stared into her eyes. He swore he only said it as a joke but as he thought on it, he knew it deep in his gut. This was the girl he was going to marry. He looked at her softly, letting out a breath, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Y/N tried to look indignant and scoffed it off to keep their banter light but the look in his eyes sent a flush running from her neck to her face. She shook her head softly, the corners of her mouth tilting up before she leaned in and kissed him, putting a hand behind his neck to drag him down, Bucky’s hands settling on her waist, pulling her closer. Someone in the table wolf-whistled and they broke off with a laugh.

“Well, I’m gonna go get Clint, I actually feel bad for that girl,” Nat had said before giving a wink to the couple and strutting out of the table.

“I’m gonna get a beer, you guys want some?” Wanda chimed in after finishing the last drops from her glass.

“I’ll go with you,” Y/N said, giving a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, before standing up herself.

Steve looked at Bucky, a knowing smile on his face, this was the happiest he’s seen his best friend.

“Your pick-up lines work huh?” He teased.

“I’m gonna marry that girl, Steve,” Bucky said as he watched her link her arms with Wanda at the bar, a smile cracking up her face when she looked back at him.

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“Well, someone’s in a good mood,” Someone from her right told her when she reached Lizzie’s school with five minutes to spare until the little rascal was released.

“Tony! How are you?” She said, giving him a hug, surprised to see him here.

“Good, good. You know, same old, the missus bossing me around to leave my lab every once in a while to run her errands,” he raised the grocery bag he was holding to show her. It was incredibly sweet how they choose to run their household themselves, when they could probably have servants at their disposal.

“Figured I could pick Morgan up since I’m already out,”

“Aww, that’s sweet. You know, Lizzie’s been bugging me about this camping trip with Morgan?”

“Oh right that! Didn’t I message you about it? I’m bringing the family out camping the next weekend. Lizzie should come! That’s all Morgan ever really talks about,”

Y/N was a bit starstruck at how she’s literally brushing elbows with the Starks and how big of a deal it was that she was hand picked by Tony to cater for his beloved daughter’s birthday. One look at that man and anyone would know he was clearly smitten by her.

“Well, that sounds like fun! And thanks for inviting Lizzie but I’ll have to think about it. She’s never really had a sleepover yet, and she’ll have to ask her dad too,” Y/N couldn’t imagine letting Lizzie out of her sight for a weekend, she didn’t think she’d be able to sleep out of worry, god, why did they have to grow up so fast?

“Shit!” came a little girl’s voice and they both turned around to see Morgan and Lizzie running up to them.

“Shit, she remembers,” Tony muttered under his breath as Y/N tried to hide her giggle. She bent down to give her daughter a kiss on the cheek while Lizzie automatically held her hand.

“What did I tell you about saying that word?” Tony immediately asked his daughter, picking her up with a kiss to the cheek.

“To say it came from Mommy,” Tony’s eyes bulged out as Morgan smiled at him proudly for remembering what he probably said as a joke.

“You’re too smart for your own good, squirt. But don’t say that word again, or Mommy will have our heads? Okay?” Morgan nodded cheerfully and waved at Y/N, “Hi Y/N!” She wiggled herself off her dad’s arms and linked her hands to Lizzie’s, who was still shyly staring at Tony, not knowing what to do.

“Lizzie, that’s my daddy!” Morgan enthusiastically said as she pointed at her dad.

“Hello, Lizzie I’m Tony, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Tony knelt down and offered his hand to her. She eagerly nodded her head and shook his hand.

“Daddy, that’s my best friend Lizzie!” Morgan chimed in.

“I know, sweetie, you never stop talking about her,” which made Lizzie lose her shyness and let out a giggle.

“You said I was gonna meet your daddy too but now you met mine first!” Morgan told Lizzie and Y/N felt her back stiffen at that. Had Lizzie been excitedly waiting to show off her dad to her friends, only to have him not show up?

“But you met Uncle Steve! He’s the coolest,”

Morgan eagerly agreed with a resounding “Yes!” And the two fell into conversation of just how awesome uncle Steve was with Lizzie taking the lead and Morgan brightly agreeing to every word she said. Y/N wondered how Steve could’ve even managed to charm Morgan, from their probably brief encounter when he picked Lizzie up. She chalked it up to just Steve being Steve, he probably charmed the pants off anybody, no matter the age.

“Now even I wanna meet Prince Charming,” Tony chimed in to Y/N and she just shook her head and laughed, still watching the girls’ animated conversation.

“Squirt, we gotta get going. What do you say, let’s get some ice cream and bring it to mom?” Tony picked up the bouncing Morgan after she gave her best friend a hug goodbye. She chatted about what flavors to get as they all waved at each other and parted ways.

“Bye, Tony!” Lizzie waved back at them when Y/N led her away.

“Bye Liz, it was nice to meet you, kid! Y/N text you about the camping trip! Think about it!” Tony waved back.

“Will do!” Y/N shouted over her shoulder with a smile.

“Mommy, could I please go? Please!” Lizzie turned to her with the cutest puppy dog eyes she’s ever seen. Her hands clasped under her chin, begging.

“Baby, you gotta ask your dad,”

“Oh! Can we get ice cream with daddy?” Lizzie bounced up and down as inspiration struck her.

Y/N tried not to look uncomfortable, she was scared to let her daughter down but odds are he wouldn’t pick up if he saw her name flashing on the screen.

“I don’t know, daddy’s working, Lizzie. But we could get ice cream if you want.”

“Please, Mommy! Can I call daddy?” Lizzie begged and there was nothing Y/N could do but to relent.

“Lizzie, he might be busy okay?” She tried to dissuade her as she eagerly grabbed the phone from her mom as soon as the ringing started, her smile not faltering when no one answered on the other line. She extended the phone back, asking her mom to call again which she reluctantly did. After the second call ended, Lizzie looked up to her mom with the sweet smile still on her face, completely oblivious, and simply just said, “Oh daddy’s busy, can we call Uncle Steve instead?”

“We might disturb him, baby, he’s at work,”

“Please, mommy, just one call,” Y/N still couldn’t say no to her face and she quickly switched the call to Steve.

“Y/N, what’s up?” She heard Steve answer after the third ring.

“Uncle Steve!” Lizzie beamed at the phone.

“Oh hey there, Lizzie!”

“Do you wanna have ice cream?” she immediately asked, looking to Y/N excitedly.

“Oh sweetie, I’m still at work. How about some other time? I could bring you your favorite,” Steve suggested apologetically.

“Awww, how about daddy? Is he there?” Lizzie asked hopefully.

“Uhm, I’m not sure, he’s probably at his office. Why don’t you ask Mommy to give him a call?”

“I already did, he didn’t answer. How about Sam? Can I talk to Sam?” Lizzie asked again, clearly intending to get out of her routine of just going home or to the bakery with her mom. She hasn’t been spending much time with Bucky lately too, and Y/N could see it take a toll on her like today.

“Baby, why don’t we just get ice cream at home, or go to the bakery? Peter’s there, you like Peter,” Y/N suggested cheerfully. Peter worked as a part-time server at the bakery, he’s a good kid, smart too, and always playful and nice to Lizzie.

“But I always see Peter, I wanna see daddy, mommy! or Uncle Steve or Sam, or maybe Aunt Nat and Aunt Wanda?”

“Are you with them too Uncle Steve?” Lizzie asked hopefully again, excitement in her eyes.

“No, sweetie I’m not, but Sam is here,” Steve answered, clearly preoccupied as he shuffled papers on his desk.

“But I’ll tell you what, I could take a little break. How about you and your mommy come and visit the office? I’ll have my secretary get you your favorite ice cream, which is it again? Pistachio isn’t it?” He asked teasingly.

“Ew! Uncle Steve, no! It’s strawberry, silly!” She giggled into the phone, falling into his trap.

“Oohh, right right, sorry Uncle Steve’s getting old, bad memory!” to which Lizzie laughed at again.

“You’re not old, that would make daddy old too! You just sound old, is all,” she reassured him, trying to make her uncle feel better.

“Oh now now, little lady, I do not,” Steve replied seriously.

“Hmm, maybe just like a hundred years old, not so old,” Lizzie replied, dead serious, clearly still trying to reassure him. Steve’s booming laughter could be heard from the phone and Y/N laughed, shaking her head. Kids and their concept with numbers! When Steve finally settled down, she could hear him ask to talk to her.

“Hey Steve, you know if you’re busy, we don’t have to go there,” she tried to say it as softly as possible so as not to alarm Lizzie, but she wanted to give Steve an out if he only felt obligated to have them.

“Huh, no, come here, it’s no problem! Lord knows, I could use a break too, uhm, so I should call Bucky, and tell him you guys are on your way, he’s probably just buried in work or out getting coffee,” Y/N felt herself immediately tense up. How weird was it that they were going to her husband’s office but only to meet up with his best friend, and they might not even see him or ever know where the hell he was? Did Steve not really know what was up with him or was he just telling her that to spare her feelings?

“Uh huh, yeah probably, so you sure we could pass by?” Y/N answered him dismissively.

“Of course, how could I say no to my favorite niece?”

“Alright, thanks, about to get into a cab, see ya!” Y/N said, opening the door, to the cab she just hailed.

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“Uncle Steve, what do you do?” Lizzie asked, seated across from Steve at his desk, as she drew on the paper he had provided her.

“Well, hmm, I usually go out and talk to clients, and meet all sorts of people, trying to get them to know about us,” He said in the simplest way he could probably describe what a managing director does in the biggest investment banking in the world but before Lizzie could reply, a knock sounded at the door.

“Chocolate chip, vanilla and strawberry ice cream coming right up,” A very friendly looking man excitedly said as he held a big grocery bag of ice cream with one hand and a bunch of teaspoons in another.

“Thanks, Scott, you could put them on the desk,” Steve said.

“Wow, that’s a gallon of everything, are you making the whole floor eat ice cream with you?” Y/N asked teasingly.

“Well I, ah, I just didn’t want you guys to run out of anything,” Scott said awkwardly as he smiled at Steve in awe, clearly wanting his approval.

“Uh, Thanks Scott,” Steve replied uncomfortably.

“Oh! I should get you guys some bowls,” Scott scrambled before turning around to face Y/N,

“And may I just say it’s nice to finally meet Cap’s lovely wife and daughter, beautiful family, ma’am, that’s what I call him here, Captain,” he rolled his eyes at his own joke while still shaking Y/N’s hand. Y/N and Steve tried to intervene but the guy would just not stop talking.

“He basically runs this place here, the best managing director I have ever worked with, and his advice on starting my own business is always so so great-”

“We’re not together.” Y/N cut him off sheepishly, catching her tongue before she mumbled an apology for not being Steve’s wife, he just seemed so excited. She hated having to let him down, even though her cheeks turned beet red from embarrassment.

“Oh,” he said, finally realizing to stop shaking her hand, “Sorry! I shook your hand for too long, didn’t I?”

“It’s alright,” Y/N replied laughingly while Steve cleared his throat trying to hide a chuckle and Lizzie giggled at her seat.

“Actually Scott, that’s Y/N, Bucky’s wife,” Scott’s eyes bulged out as he blushed, probably remembering how he had deemed Steve the best in the company. “And that is his adorable daughter, Lizzie,” Steve pointed at Lizzie and gave her a wink.

“You’re funny, Mr. Scott,” Lizzie said from her seat, still giggling, but just then someone entered the room.

“Where’s my favorite girl?” Sam’s voice sounded from the doorway.

“Sam!” Lizzie squealed as she leaped up in his arms.

“Now, tell me you didn’t finish all that ice cream,”

“Oh, right the bowls! I’ll be right back,” Scott immediately left as Sam turned to greet Y/N, putting Lizzie down.

“Where’s Bucky?” He asked, looking around. Hell if I know, Y/N thought to herself.

“Is daddy here?” Lizzie asked, running back to take her seat at the desk, getting ready to have her ice cream.

“He wasn’t with you? Texted him too, he’s probably on his way,” Steve reassured everyone. Scott came back with the bowls and some serving spoons and told everyone to enjoy. They all fell into conversation as soon as they’ve gotten their shares.

“Oh, look Clint just texted me, Laura gave birth to a baby boy!” Steve said holding his phone out to show them.

“Oh, he’s beautiful,” Y/N said, happy for her friends.

“Nathaniel, Nat finally got him to name a kid after her huh,” Sam said, impressed.

“Can you believe Clint with four children! I would’ve thought that would be you, Steve! And Bucky’s even beaten you up to it,” Y/N playfully swatted Steve’s arm as he just rolled his eyes.

“Why, how was Clint back then?” Sam asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! He was the most reckless ladies man, had a different girl every other week,”

“His baby’s wrinkly,” Lizzie said as she peered at the phone which made them all laugh.

As soon as Bucky read Steve’s texts, he rushed back to his office and caught them all laughing at something on Steve’s phone. He immediately noticed how Lizzie clung to his arm while Y/N stood right beside them with Sam on his other side. He suddenly felt a pang of jealousy hit him as they should’ve all been at his office instead of here. He felt awkward, like he was the one intruding, when it was his family right there.

He strode in and tried to act as charming and casual as possible, “So what did I miss?”

“Daddy!” Lizzie immediately ran to him and clung to his neck as he picked her up.

“Hey, princess,” He said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Y/N moved back from Steve, her smile immediately leaving her face.

“Hey, sorry I missed your calls,” He told her as he bent down to give her a kiss.

“It’s fine, it was Lizzie,”

“It’s okay, daddy,” Lizzie just said, tightening her hold on his neck as he settled her on his hip.

“So, do you still have some ice cream left for daddy?” He asked her sweetly and Y/N immediately felt it straight through her heart. She watched as his eyes crinkled while he joked with their daughter, his smile still managing to make her heart skip a beat. There was no one else like Bucky Barnes for her. That man had her wrapped around his fingers, giving him the all the power to make her happy or break her heart.

“Uncle Clint has a new baby, it’s still kinda wrinkly,” Lizzie told him and he threw his head back and laughed.

“Hey, I remember your dad showing me a picture of you and you were exactly like that too!”

Sam teased.

“No, I wasn’t! Daddy, tell him!”

“No you weren’t, don’t listen to him, cute as a button, just like mommy,” Bucky reassured her as he booped her nose, and Y/N blushed, looking away. God, she hated that he could still make her blush after everything. Bucky saw this and he smirked, he loved those blushes, no matter what, she always still felt awkward at being complimented. He never understood why and always teased her about it. He figured someone like her should’ve been used to them but no, not his Y/N. He watched her for a moment as Sam and Lizzie kept on teasing each other while Steve chuckled on their antics. God, he loved her. He wished he could tell her and be like how they were before but something’s shifted between them. It was as if, if one stepped forward, the other stepped back. He made a huge mistake and if he were being honest, he still kept making that mistake but he never fell out of love for her. Now, there was an ocean of uncertainty that drowned them both and the worst part was he’d been denying it to himself. Denying that it all started that one fateful day, he came face to face with the man he promised to never lay his eyes on again. He adamantly refused to believe he had been affected that much by the encounter then the next thing he knew, he had spiraled and didn’t know how to swim back up. He had a feeling he was losing her which he’d never felt the whole time they were together and it scared him, scared him to his very bones.

“Daddy, what do you do?”

“Huh?” Bucky snapped out of his reverie at Lizzie’s question.

“You and Uncle Steve do the same thing here?” She asked and gestured around the office.

“Yeah, pretty much, and Sam too,”

“Oh!” She said, clapping her hands, as if having just solved a problem.

“Uncle Steve, you’re like daddy! You could go for career day and dress in that, and then tell us all the stuff you do,” she beamed proudly, not noticing how her dad’s arms tensed around her, Y/N looked down to her shoes while Sam pretended to scoop out the rest of his ice cream. Steve just opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what to say.

“Baby, someone has to stay here and work while daddy goes with you,” Y/N broke the awkwardness and talked to her encouragingly.

“Why didn’t you ask me, Lizzie?” Bucky looked to his daughter with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Because you’re always busy,” She said, playing with his tie.

He caught her eye as he told her, “No I won’t be, love, I’ll go with you,”

“Really?” Lizzie asked incredulously.

“Really. Now, what do you say, we’ll take the rest of the day off and go home?”

Lizzie immediately agreed and excitedly waved her goodbyes to Steve and Sam. Y/N felt herself drift into a daze while she followed them out the door. He was going home early? He wanted to spend time with them? What was going on? Was he finally ready to be a family again? As soon as that question hit her, she realized how long it’s been since they hung out like this. She looked to Bucky and he smiled at her as they exited the building, with their daughter still clinging to his neck.

“I have to go to the bakery,” She blurted out suddenly. Bucky looked at her, confused, ready to convince her to come with them instead. Even Lizzie whined from her perch on her dad’s arm.

“I’m sorry, I just, I gotta go, I’ll come home before dinner. I promise,” she kissed Lizzie’s cheek and left.

Bucky watched helplessly as she walked away, her dress flowing in her wake. She had fled. The one time he had the courage to do the right thing, she had fled with not even a look back, not even bothering to hail a cab and he knew her so well, he knew what that meant. Every time she paced or took long walks, she needed to think. He swallowed a lump in his throat as a breath caught in his chest, was he too late?

Part 4

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel angst #steve rogers #betrayal

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iloveyou3thousand · 5 years ago

Note

Tony gets possessive when Peter is getting seduced by someone. Request

Yes! Yess!!! I also got kind of into writing Peter/Harry so I might have made myself ship it now but no matter. Enjoy :p

CW: possessive!Tony, jealous!Tony, and a little Harry Osborn/Peter Parker

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Tony had never really insisted Peter get involved in anything too public. He seemed to prefer to keep things on the down low with Spider-Man in the public eye and Peter Parker outside of it. Peter didn’t mind because he’d seen and sometimes even kind of experienced the kind of things Tony had to go through on a daily basis and he wasn’t sure that he could keep up something like that. And besides, keeping his identities separated allowed him to just be Peter when he wanted to be. Tony was always, in the public eye in one way or another, also Iron Man.

But Peter and Tony had been working on a project together and while it had started out as just a bit of fun, it was growing into something that the market might genuinely be interested in and it was quickly gaining traction in the right spaces when Tony had initially proposed their ideas.

Fast forward several months later, their project was completed, and to promote their new product they were going to hold a fundraiser.

And people were starting to get curious who Tony had been working with all this time.

It was no secret that he didn’t work alone, but so far they’d kept Peter in the shadows. They’d discussed their options time and time again and eventually came to the conclusion that if they didn’t introduce Peter now, it might start to work against them.

Besides, surely it couldn’t hurt if Peter was in the spotlight as Tony’s right hand for just a little while? After that he’d go back into the shadows where he liked to think he belonged.

So Tony threw a fundraiser, and Peter got all donned up, feeling a little ridiculous but looking, according to Tony, at the top of your game.

And hey, maybe this would be fun, right?

They arrived at the party separately so that people would remain unassuming until the minute Tony called Peter forward to introduce him, and when he did the applause was thunderous. Thankfully Tony didn’t hand him the microphone to introduce himself because he would have fudged through whatever sentence his nervous mind managed to conjure up, and that’s not the image of him that he wanted to give people right off the bat.

After that the rest of the party was all champagne and chatting to people he didn’t know but had some important job or another. He felt a little out of place between all those rich people with their big words and their very specific taste in wine.

Tony tried to stick by him for the most part but he sometimes had to leave Peter’s side to go talk to someone he reassured Peter the boy didn’t even want to know.

That’s when a tall, slightly younger gentleman in comparison to the general crowd, came up to Peter with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand.

“Harry Osborn. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Parker.”

Peter took the hand and shook it, firing the guy a polite smile of his own. He’d heard his name before, of course. Osborn was a bit of a staple around New York City, but other than that he didn’t know much about the family that ran the company Oscorp. Harry seemed nice enough. Had a nice smile. Great jawline.

“Peter,” Peter blurted out when he realized he’d been shaking Harry’s hand just a touch too long and staring, “You don’t have to…call me Mr. Parker.”

“Right,” Harry said, and Peter absently noticed he had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, “You don’t have to call me Mr. Osborn either. Just Harry’s fine. Don’t tell him, but I like to think I’m a little bit independent from my father.”

Peter made a vague noise.

“You must know him. Right? Norman Osborn? Creator of Oscorp?”

“Mhm! Yeah, no, of course I know him. I just don’t know why you’d want that when your father’s so…”

“Famous?”

Peter shrugged.

“I guess it’s just a little teenage rebellion then.” Harry’s smile this time showed a flash of teeth.

Being the first person to talk to him that seemed a little closer to his age, Peter found himself enjoying talking to him quite a bit. They had similar interests, both loved science fiction, and Harry could give him some tips and tricks on how to deal with suddenly being in the general spotlight for something.

It also helped that Harry was so damn friendly. He kept touching Peter’s arm of his shoulder or back, offered to get him a refill on his drink when he was out, he was achingly funny when the initial awkwardness between them had subsided, and he really did smile a lot, and laughed at Peter’s stupid attempts at jokes.

The first time his senses told him someone was looking at him, Peter tried to subtly glance around himself to catch whoever was doing it, but he didn’t notice anyone in particular.

The second time he felt it, he caught Tony looking, but he assumed he was just checking in on him, and so Peter gave him a big smile and a discreet little wave and Tony flashed him a smile of his own and threw him a wink, which to Peter came across as something along the lines of ‘hope you’re enjoying yourself’, or ‘you’re doing great’.

The third time he noticed it, it was when Harry was leaning in close, a hand on the small of Peter’s back and his lips barely brushing his ear, talking lowly over the hum of the crowd around them. Peter’s eyes met Tony’s once again, but this time Tony didn’t smile. His expression was ever so slightly pinched, and even from that distance Peter could see that his jaw was clenched. He immediately felt like something was wrong. But people passed by in the path between them, and when they were gone again, so was Tony.

Peter almost thought he hadn’t seen it. Maybe he’d imagined it.

Whatever was the case, the night ended soon after that.

Not because the party ended, but because suddenly Tony was by his side, an arm around his waist, looking to Harry.

“Mr. Osborn,” Tony greeted, though his voice didn’t sound welcoming in the slightest.

Peter noticed that Harry didn’t correct Tony when he called him that. The atmosphere suddenly felt a little too tense for comfort, like the mood had abruptly shifted the second Tony arrived. It was also undeniable that Tony’s hand was curled around Peter’s hip very tightly, thumb pressing firmly into the small of his back, the flesh of his hip.

“Mr. Stark. Great party.” Harry’s smile wasn’t entirely gone, but it might as well have been.

“It’s time we go home, Peter. Let’s finish up.” Tony looked at him, but Peter couldn’t read his expression. He started to protest lightly, because he’d been having a good time with Harry and honestly he wouldn’t mind if they stuck around for a little bit longer, but Tony’s grip on his hip tightened, and Peter went quiet.

He turned back to Harry.

“It was nice to meet you, Harry. Yeah, um. Maybe we’ll see each other again some time? I think that’d be nice. I hope you have a good night.”

Harry’s expression softened a touch when he looked at Peter, “Goodnight, Peter. Lovely to meet you too.”

Tony had Peter steered away and was leading him toward the exit before Harry could even finish his sentence properly, and Peter almost felt like he had to jog to keep up with the pace.

“Mr. Stark—” Peter protested, and Tony slowed down just a touch, but only because it seemed like they were being watched by the people around them.

A car stood waiting outside, and Tony helped Peter into it. Peter was almost convinced that he’d close the door behind him and send him off homeward but much to his surprise Tony gestured for him to scoot, and he got in after him, before closing the door and reaching over to knock twice on the partition between the backseat and the driver. Peter assumed it was Happy on the other side. He wasn’t sure though – he couldn’t see.

Tony didn’t say a word, which was unnerving. Peter half expected to get a lecture or something. Tony seemed upset. That was the best word he could think of that could describe Tony right now, head turned away from Peter and staring firmly out the window, his hands on his knees but his fingertips white where he was pressing them down as if he was trying to control himself.

It was almost…scary.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked after the minute of silence stretched on for too long and made him feel uneasy.

“That was Harry Osborn, Peter. Harry Osborn.”

“Yeah…” Peter clearly didn’t see the issue, “So?”

Tony whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes at Peter. “So? So you were going to let the son of the boss of the biggest rivalling company to Stark Industries take you home?”

“Home? I—”

“You were going to let him take you to bed?”

“To… bed, I wasn’t—”

“Fuck you?”

“Oh my god Mr. Stark—”

Peter had enough. He clicked out of the seatbelt he’d put on earlier so that he could scoot closer to Tony with the intention of talking to him, perhaps a bit firmly if necessary, but when he was halfway across the backseat Tony reached for him and pulled him into his lap with surprising ease, large hands settling on Peter’s hips, heat soaking through his suit.

Whatever Peter had been about to say died in his throat the second Tony leaned forward and buried his face into Peter’s neck.

Peter’s breath hitched and his hands automatically went up to Tony’s hair and the back of his neck, head dipping to nose the top of his head. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Tony act like that before. Definitely never toward him. It was almost…possessive.

“Mr. Stark…” Peter sighed, “Why are you so upset? Is it because he’s the son of your arch nemesis?”

At least that got a chuckle out of Tony, breath warm against Peter’s neck. “Arch nemesis is a big word, but. That’s not it.”

Peter kept quiet so as to pointedly give Tony the opportunity to elaborate.

“It could have been anyone and I would have disliked it just as much.”

Peter combed his fingers through Tony’s hair and felt a flutter in his chest at the realization that Tony was jealous. Anthony Edward Stark. Jealous, because someone flirted with Peter, who was really just his mentee and now business partner, by the way. And yeah they were close but they had never been this close and Tony had definitely never pulled Peter into his lap like that.

But now that Peter was there he didn’t think he would have wanted the night to end any differently. Sure Harry had been nice, and he was attractive, and they seemed to have gotten along. But that was nothing in comparison to what Peter felt and always had felt with and for Tony.

“How about…next time when you get upset like that maybe you could just—talk to me? About it?” Peter suggested lightly.

Tony finally lifted his head to look up at Peter, and he pulled him closer into his lap, which made Peter’s heart skitter.

“There won’t be a next time. I’ll make sure of it.”

Peter was about to protest because that didn’t sound exactly convenient or particularly right. How did he suppose he was going to do that? Never let Peter talk to anyone again? But then Tony’s one hand pushed up the back of his jacket while the other smoothed down his thigh and his lips connected to Peter’s jaw, beard slightly scratchy but his lips so lovely and warm it had Peter promptly going lax in the other man’s lap.

“Next time I’ll make sure everybody knows you’re mine.”

Peter could only hope there would be a next time soon.

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #peter parker #tony stark #ironspider #fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #harry osborn #peter parker/harry osborn #possessive tony #this was so so much fun to write i loved it #Anonymous #replies

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hale-13 · 4 years ago

Text

Strangulated

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 26 Prompt - Asphyxiation

“That’s pretty new,” Peter muttered aloud, perched on the side of a building in Midtown and staring intently at the man in a full on metal rhino costume destroying the front of a Well’s Fargo. The police that had responded to the call had drawn their weapons and were perched behind their cars, clearly just as baffled and making no attempts to stop or prevent the crime.

Words: 1754, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Rhino

TW: Strangulation

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“It is new Peter,” Karen’s voice chirped happily from his mask. “You have not faced this criminal before. Would you like me to activate instant kill?” She sounded far too hopeful for Peter’s liking and he sighed, dodging the small chunk of concrete that flew his way.

“Karen, darling, love of my life. We’ve talked about this,” he told her gently, swinging closer and dropping down behind the line of cop cars. “Instant kill is not the answer to all lives problems.”

“If you say so,” and she sounded so disappointed. Peter would have to have a conversation with Mr. Stark – he had no idea how he made his AI’s so lifelike but he really wanted to know.

“Ugh,” one of the cops said, rolling his eyes as he noticed Peter. “Scram Spider-Guy, this ain’t any of your business.”

Peter fought an eye roll of his own. “Real nice pal,” he said sarcastically, stepping forward anyway. The guys partner nudged him pointedly in the side.

“Just send in the freak. Might save us the effort.” Peter fought the urge to cringe at the sneer directed at him. He had a pretty thick skin but he wasn’t the biggest fan of being called a ‘freak’. Especially by the people he was trying to help.

“Happy to be of service,” Peter grunted with a two finger salute. “Just stay back and let the professional work.” He fired a web and took off in the direction of the rhino guy before either of the police had the chance to respond. He purposely used their car as a jumping off point just to really rub it in and smirked a little at their grunts of irritation. “Hey big guy!” He called as he landed in the pock-marked and cracked street. Rhino-guy turned around and charged with a roar. “Whoa there!” Peter called as he jumped over his head. “You haven’t even introduced yourself yet!”

“I will squash you like bug!” The man said in a thick Russian accent, scraping one of his feet against the ground like a bull and charging Peter head first again. Peter nimbly dodged again and dangled with one hand from a nearby streetlight.

“You know spiders are arachnids right? Not bugs?” Peter bantered, swinging around the pole and releasing at just the right moment to launch himself across the street the nail Rhino in the face, sending him stumbling back before he corrected himself with a roar. Peter somersaulted out of the way of another charge.

“Stay still so I can kill you,” he roared.

“Tempting,” Peter mused, webbing Rhino’s arms to his sides. “But I’ll pass.”

Rhino roared again in obvious frustration and ripped through Peter’s webs with great effort. “That’s not ideal,” Peter said as he fired more webs in an attempt to slow down Rhino to no avail. Freed once more, Rhino changed forward. This time, however, Peter took a step back into one of the holes in the asphalt and tripped; he was able to right himself quickly but not fast enough to dodge out of the way of Rhino’s hands.

“Oof,” Peter gasped, hands flying up to his throat where Rhino had wrapped his mechanized hands around Peter’s throat, holding him a couple feet above the ground and leaving Peter to flail his legs in an attempt to escape. “Not cool bro,” Peter breathed out with his limited air supply as the Rhino squeezed tighter and backed him up to slam Peter into a nearby brick wall.

“You talk too much,” Rhino grumbled, redoubling his hold on Peter and making him grunt with effort and scrambled to pull the hands from around his throat.

“Peter your pulse ox is dropping rapidly,” Karen said, displaying the number on his HUD and Peter squeezed his eyes shut as it ticked from ninety-three percent to ninety-two. “Calling Mr. Stark.”

“No don’t,” Peter wheezed out a little desperately, his throat feeling raw and swollen and his lungs beginning to burn.

“On my way kid,” Tony’s voice said through his comm as Karen connected his mentor to Peter’s HUD. “Any chance you can break out before you pass out.” Peter just let out a frustrated puff of air and, with intense effort, lifted his legs to press his feet against Rhino’s chest to begin pushing. His vision was tunneling and pulsing around the edges and Peter knew it was only his stubborn pig-headedness and sheer force of will that was keeping him conscious at this point. The pulse ox reading in the corner ticked down to eighty-seven and, with Herculean strength, Peter finally knocked the Rhino away from him and collapsed to the ground.

“‘M good,” Peter croaked tightly, letting his head rest back against the road as he recovered his breath. He didn’t have long through as his Spidey sense tingled violently and he threw himself to the side of the road to dodge out of Rhino’s path. His vision was still a little spotty and he stumbled like he was drunk but Peter was able to pull himself back to his feet and stand without assistance. “Not cool dude,” he said, his throat burning and his words coming out like he had been gargling gravel.

He needed to end this quick. He couldn’t afford to get caught again. With effort, Peter jumped back into the air, firing webs at rapid speed as he did so – attaching Rhino to the ground in a veritable cocoon. Rhino screamed in anger and struggled but Peter’s webs held this time much to his relief. “He’s all yours boys,” he said in the direction of the police, his voice thready and painful and he swallowed down a cough.

It took all the energy he had left to swing away, alighting on a nearby apartment roof and dropping first to his knees and then back to sit cross-legged. His neck hurt and he could feel the swelling starting to constrict his trachea and vocal chords. Tony landed in front of him a few seconds later, stepping out of his suit and squatting down in front of Peter with several cracks and pops of his knees.

“Try not to talk buddy,” Tony told him, lifting his mask up to his nose and pulling the neck down carefully, wincing at whatever he saw and making Peter hunch his shoulders and pull away, fixing his mask back to its usual position. “Helen’s waiting for us back in the MedBay. I’m going to carry you and your not going to bitch about it capiche?” Peter rolled his eyes knowing it would translate to the large white lenses on his mask but didn’t protest when Tony stepped back into the Iron Man armor and picked him up.

The flight back to the Tower was quick since Peter had ventured into Manhattan to patrol today and they were soon landing on the small balcony outside the MedBay doors. Peter still felt a little light-headed and dizzy and swayed a little in place when Tony lowered him back to the ground to stand on his own while the suited disassembled around him and flew off to the armory. “Steady there,” the man said gently, slinging Peter’s arm across his shoulders and helping him walk into the building.

“Hey Peter,” Helen Cho said as she approached them from the nurses station down the hall and ushered them into an open exam room. “Karen sent me your stats so let’s just see the damage yeah?” She said as Peter settled on the exam bed.

Peter smacked his hand into the spider emblem on his chest, letting the suit fall down to rest around his hips, pulling his mask off and tossing it next to him on the bed. Dr. Cho wrinkled her nose and softly palpated Peter’s neck making him grunt and grimace, manfully resisting the urge to pull away from her. “Well you’ve already got some pretty severe swelling,” she said, clipping a pulse oximeter onto his finger and frowning at the result. “And you’re still not oxygenating as well as I’d like.”

“So what’s the plan then,” Tony said, slapping a hand over Peter’s mouth when he opened it to speak and ignoring the glare Peter sent him and the spiteful lick Peter gave his hand in the hopes that Tony would remove his hand.

“Well I’m going to start supplemental oxygen first,” Dr. Cho said, unwinding an oxygen mask from the wall and pushing Peter back until he was reclined on the bed and slipped the mask over his mouth and nose. “I’ll have a nurse come in with something for you to change into and then I want to start IV steroids and pain relief to get the swelling down. With you’re healing,” she said addressing Peter, “you should only be here overnight. I just want to make sure that your airway doesn’t swell closed. You’ll also need to rest your voice since you probably have some damage to your vocal chords.”

Disappointed, Peter nodded. This was not in his plan for the day and he was really looking forward to playing Beast Slayers with Ned tonight but, if he was confined to a MedBay bed and doped up on his pain meds he doubted he would be worth much of anything. Well at least he’d probably catch up on some of his sleep.

A few hours later, floating due to his super strength meds and curled up under a pre-warmed blanket, Peter squeaked out a hoarse ‘thanks’ making Tony, sat beside him and tapping away at a tablet with his feet propped up on the end of Peter’s bed, fix him with a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting your voice?” Peter just gave him a dopey smile and burrowed deeper into the blanket, adjusting the melting ice pack that was wrapped around his still tender throat.

He’d have to do some research of mechanized rhinos in the morning. He had already come up with some fun tweaks for his web fluid that might be beneficial going forward. With chemical equations dancing around in his brain, Peter fell into an deep, easy sleep.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump26 #Prompt: Asphyxiation #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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anthonyed · 5 years ago

Note

stevetony + no. 99 (“I fell in love with you, not them.”)? only if you want to, of course. no pressure! :)

ive said this before: i LOVED writing this. hopefully you like cats ♡

-//-

Tony says it started like this:

One afternoon, Tony barged into Pepper’s office because he conveniently forgot how to knock and caught her rolling a miniature lint roller up her suit sleeve.

She startled with her high pitched, “Oh my god, Tony!” But, Tony was too fascinated by the lint roller that he kept advancing with a singular focus.

“What is that?”

Pepper bristled, “It’s a lint roller. Why are you here? I told you I don’t want to see you for at least four hours.”

Oh. Right. She was still upset about something Tony did during the board meeting. Menial stuff, unimportant, anyway -

“I know what it is, what I meant is, why are you using that in here?”

At this point, he’s close enough to catch the very fine blonde hair stuck on the roller. “Are you trying to bury the evidence of your boyfriend, Miss Potts? Because while that is very thoughtful, I have a feeling he’d be -,”

“It’s not a boyfriend,” Pepper rolled her eyes. “With you as my boss I don’t have such time -,”

Tony on the other hand, while Pepper was talking, snagged the roller from her hand, “This is - This is not - Ah CHO!”

Pepper winced.

Tony’s jaw dropped.

“Miss Potts,” he asked, deadly calm. “I thought you read and signed all the clauses when you agreed to be my personal assistant.”

“I did, Mr Stark.” Pepper's lips thinned.

Tony dropped the roller on her table; the miniature thing completing two circles before stopping in front of her.

“Then why are there cat hair all over you?”

Despite what Tony likes to think, according to Pepper it started like this:

"Who is that?" Tony asked, low whisper, eyes like hawk fixed on the blonde man with a pink cap -

"Oh!" Pepper exclaimed, leaning sideways and waving to catch the guy's attention. "That would be my lunch."

From the cat cafe, Pepper didn't say. Instead, she hurried out of the room to meet the delivery staff before he could enter; didn't want to risk putting the man responsible for her paycheck in close contact with the one thing he's allergic to: cats' fur.

Now, Pepper doesn't know exactly what Tony thought that day, but when she reentered the room after shoving a 20 dollars bill into the guy's hand, she found Tony to be in some kind of… stupor.

She stopped where she stepped in. The door closed behind her and she asked, "Tony?"

Tony startled. "Is that your boyfriend?"

"What? No!"

"Is he single?"

"Tony -,"

"Who is he?"

Pepper paused. Then she promptly decided to play hard - because secretly she is a menace and Tony is right. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Fast forward the next day; she saw Happy exiting her beloved cat cafe and entering the limo he drives to drop Tony off at work.

She didn't even hesitate; she pulled open the passenger door and slid into the empty seat.

"Fancy seeing you here," she cocked her head, smiling syrupy sweet.

Tony Stark stared wide eyed, like he'd been caught red-handed with a cookie jar.

"Ah HAH!" Pepper pointed at him.

No matter how much Tony denied: "It is not what you think it is!", don't believe him.

It was exactly what it was. In fact, that was how it started.

But Steve never talked to Pepper as much as he talked to Tony. So he obviously thought what Tony claims is right.

That the reason the wildly famous Tony Stark started frequenting Bucky's cat cafe is because he loves cats, and the moment he learned his PA had been hiding this cafe’s existence from him, he bribed her with fancy shoes to get the address.

Happy would say, bullshit.

But as it is, Happy works for Tony and Tony bribes him with a free sandwich of the day every time they visit the cafe to keep his trap shut.

(What can Happy do in the face of excellent sandwiches and delicious Caramel Macchiato? They do say it’s hard to get the caramel swirls on top of the whipped cream right, and whoever makes his drink does it perfectly each time. So at least for the love of that talent, Happy keeps his mouth shut.)

So, when Bucky taps the caramel bottle on the counter and grumbles, “Are you gonna ever ask him out?” - Steve blushes the deepest shade of pink and pries his eyes away from Tony.

“Why would I ever do that?” He busies himself with… nothing.

“Uh, I don’t know Stevie, maybe the fact that he keeps coming back here asking for this vile shit," he pauses to press the cap delicately over the large Caramel Macchiato. "Or that he’s giving you pathetic googly eyes all the time?”

Bucky glares at Steve then he directs that glare at the drink he loathes making the most with all the venom in the world.

“Wherever he’s putting this cursed thing into," he shoves it at Steve. “Here. Go call for your knight in… whatever the fuck he’s wearing.”

Steve turns to look at where Tony’s sitting; in the far left corner in the back of the cafe; in his pinstripe suit and daisy dotted tie paired with white, also daisy dotted, sneakers and a pair of orange-tinted glasses.

Alpine - Bucky's white Turkish Angora - sits pristinely on the table in front of Tony looking like she’s giving him a lecture on something - like father, like daughter - while Tony stares right back at her challengingly.

Liho, who’s Natasha’s favourite kitten (no matter how fervently Natasha denies having a favourite at all) is lounging next to Tony, tail draped lazily over his lap. Mrs Berry in all her tortoiseshell glory, is licking her butt on Tony’s left. Grey Mr Goose is sniffing Tony’s shoes and rubbing up his shin.

Behind the cash-counter, Steve sighs like the hopeless man he is. Bucky’s bemused gaze bores into him steadily.

Steve bristles, “I don’t see what’s wrong with what he’s wearing.” Because as much as Bucky’s wrong about Tony being interested in Steve in any way, he is right in assuming that Steve is.

As a matter of fact, he’s balancing precariously between sanity and lovesick insanity and with every visit from Tony, he’s tipping dangerously towards the latter. Fantastic.

“Idiot,” Bucky snorts, turning to the kitchen. "At least ask him to change the fucking order. For fucks’ sake.”

Which leaves Steve alone with Tony, since it’s 8.30pm on a Tuesday and the cafe would never see a slower business hour than that.

Heaving out a heavy sigh, Steve puts the drink on a tray and checks his reflection on the microwave’s shiny surface - courtesy of Phil, their clean-freak coworker - before he moves.

It’s both scary and amazing how each time he makes his way to Tony, his heart would pitter patter and trip in its running behind his ribcage. So is the way he’d inhale sharply, lashes fluttering when they lock eyes and Tony smiles and -

Steve could just die right then and there.

The first time Steve talked to Tony; he vividly remembers it being a horrible day.

Everything had gone wrong from when the alarm went off that morning - A series of misfortunate events, and he’d just bribed Clint with a promise of dinner from his wallet in exchange for his extra shirt because an idiot on the freeway had driven through a puddle of rainwater soaking Steve dirty and wet.

Then, he’d stepped behind the cash counter for his turn at taking orders when a rich-looking asshole in a gaudy get up started yanking on Steve’s already frayed nerves. The man, with his stupid beard and flashy glasses rattled off what he’d probably thought an impossible order.

But Bucky was the barista for that hour and Steve had never come across an order Buck couldn’t whip up till this day. Right then though, he was calmly speckling cocoa dust on a mocha, letting Steve face their new customer who had evidently walked in to test their capability.

Unfortunately for all parties involved, it was just not Steve’s day.

“Do you want anything else?” He’d asked, after dotting pointedly on the cup.

Tony had leered at him, saying: “Maybe a little smile for the service,” and Steve fucking snapped.

“I’m sorry. But we don’t serve that for assholes.”

He could see Bucky freeze next to him. Tony, on the other hand, looked fully offended. “Excuse me?” he started, peering above his purple glasses, gearing up for a fight and Steve wasn’t going to back down either - putting the empty cup aside as he inhaled and squared up his shoulders.

But Bucky broke it off before it could even begin.

“Rogers, go make sure Barton is not ruining my sourdough,” he spoke up, flat toned, and he squeezed Steve’s arm warningly before offering his best smile to Tony. “I’m sorry, sir. We just ran out of cardamom so if you don’t mind excluding that from your order, I could whip it up for you just fine.”

The sudden professionalism was so jarring for both men that they each stuttered out an affirmative response and that was that.

Steve went into the kitchen, finished his shift, put an end to his awful day and he forgot all about the asshole customer. Until a week after when he returned.

“One caramel macchiato with perfected caramel swirl for Happy Hogan,” Steve places the tray in front of Tony.

Alpine hops down and leaves, bringing her gang with. Tony’s eyes trail after the number of swishing tails, as well as Steve’s.

“They really do like you,” Steve tells him, turning back to Tony with a teasing glint in his eyes; cheeks straining hard to keep a happy smile inside. "Nobody gets that much attention all at once."

Tony snorts, leaning forward in his seat, and he looks up from the rim of his glasses. "Pretty sure it's an intimidation tactic," he squints his eyes at Steve.

"Whatever for," Steve chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck and he looks down at his feet before looking up at Tony. “Are you gonna stay here longer? I was wondering if I should make yours to go or to have here.”

“Oh,” Tony glances at the tray, “So that’s why my drink is not here then,” he grins at Steve.

“You didn’t even notice.”

“Too busy noticing you.”

Steve blinks, “What’s that?”

“To have here,” Tony declares loudly, his eyes flicker as if they’re hiding something, and his next words come out softer, “If you don’t mind having me here for long, that is.”

Steve’s pretty sure he’s blushing; at least his ears must be the shade of tomatoes in the Spring. At least. “No. I - Of course not.” Could have said, stay forever please but luckily for Steve even his self-deprecating tendency has mercy on him. “Shall we?” He signals.

Tony’s eyes go wide as a saucer. “You’re letting me watch you make it?” And there’s excitement in there, Steve could taste it, even if Tony is trying so hard to keep it contained.

“I mean, we’re not busy now,” he shrugs and the doorbell dings, seeing the only couple who was there out. “And we’re closing in fifteen minutes so…” Steve turns back to Tony, mouth stretching slowly into a smile, eyes twinkling and he could see Tony’s face wearing his reflection as he stands up.

“Lead the way, fine Sir.”

Changing opinions is not an easy thing to do; especially those cemented so strongly from first impressions.

Seeing Tony the second time immediately made Steve’s spine tense up. But he’s been on this job for a very long time and he knows how to keep feelings away from his profession. He looks Tony straight in the eyes and beamed at him like sunshine.

“Hello! Welcome to Purricano, what would you like to have today?”

Steve distinctly remembers Tony’s eyes going saucer shape wide that day; two rapid blinks and a slack jaw which required Steve’s arched eyebrows to work. (If you ask Tony, of course he’s going to deny that.)

“You’re smiling today,” he squinted. “Why are you smiling? Do I have something on my face?” His eyes flashed towards the nearest reflective surface and Steve swallowed a bubbling laugh.

“Except for your fashionable pink sunglasses, I assure you, there is nothing on your face, Mister,” (and your stupid goatee), Steve kept smiling creepily.

Tony’s eyes grew narrower, and he glanced over his shoulder once - making sure no one else was waiting in line - before leaning close to the counter. He beckoned at Steve with one elegant finger, and he hushed, “Do you really think it’s fashionable?”

And the first bubble of laughter escaped out of Steve’s chest that day.

Never stopped ever since.

Tony makes him happy. There’s no denying in that.

It’s probably why Bucky keeps pestering Steve to ask him out; because it’s been years since Steve last laughed. Genuinely, and this loud.

“Oh god,” he clutches his stomach, wiping tears from his eyes.

The horrible latte art Tony attempted stares back with ugly googly eyes when he looks down and he bursts into another fit of laughter.

He could feel one of the felines’ tail curling around his ankle curiously, and a pair of large green eyes peer up at him longingly with an accompanying pitiful meow.

“Not,” Steve tells her.

None of the cats are allowed on the counter; even Alpine doesn’t get the pass. But she likes to try the most out of them all. The rest are already settled for bedtime, and Steve briefly thanks his quick wit to flip the sign close on the front door before he starts showing Tony around.

He turns to him with aching cheeks, tingling skin but the remnant of his grin dies when he sees Tony’s face. Something else takes residence in his belly instead; wings flapping neurotically, lifting to fly away.

“What?” he asks, lashes fluttering, breath sticking like glue on the lining of his throat. Because Tony looks dazed, like he’d just witnessed something divine but got no vocabulary enough to describe what was that.

He shakes his head, inhale sounding sharp, and he tries to bury his words under a chuckle but Steve hears him this time. “You’re beautiful.”

Loud like a Church’s bell, echoing even after and Steve’s heart stutters in his chest. Hope, blossoms like Queen of the Night; rapid and shy. Would die with a single ‘no’ from Tony, would probably never bloom again after this, but the hope is heavy as well as pretty; pushes Steve to ask Tony, “Did you mean that?”

Tony’s eyes snap up and Steve could see the same hope growing in them. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, voice high with a nervous tremor and it comes out like a breathy bark. His shoulders come loose, all limbs as well, and he reaches out for Steve before he stops himself.

Can I? His eyes ask, and Steve takes a step forward. Of course; his gesture screams. Of course, you can.

Tony's hand touches his cheek and Steve thinks maybe this Queen of the night would live to see daylights.

He shudders, full body. Closes his eyes tight and wills those butterflies in his belly to calm down. He smells Tony before he hears him; spice and a spilled can of cinnamon from just now. "Shh," Tony tells him. "Shh," and Steve sighs into his palm.

His thumb drags a stripe under his eye, and Tony says, "God, Steve… Can't you see how bad I want you?"

The truth is no. Steve didn't see it. He shakes his head.

"Why'd you think I keep coming back," Tony asks, so close now that Steve swears he could hear the rumble in his chest even if their bodies are not touching. Yet.

Feeling somewhat more grounded, he guesses, "For the cats?"

And Tony laughs.

Not just a little but a full hearty laugh that makes him wheeze.

"Oh no," he splutters, trying to gather himself apiece while Steve's surprise slowly shifts into a scowl.

"No, no, no," he chants, reaching for Steve again, catching his face with two hands, cupping and Tony's so bright with joy when he presses their foreheads together.

"Steve, Steve, Steven," he breathes. "Honey, I can’t go near a cat without popping twenty antihistamines."

"I'm allergic to them."

"What?" Steve pulls back. More shocked than surprise now. "But -,"

"It's you," Tony cuts him off, pulling him back by his hips, and he butts his head into Steve’s breastbone. Buries his next words in there; "I fell in love with you, Rogers. Not them.”

And he sounds almost whiny but Steve can see now, why; can’t believe Tony’s been inhaling allergy medications to see Steve -

“Jesus Christ.” A little frustration seeps into Steve’s own voice as he buries his fingers into Tony’s hair. “I can’t believe you’re allergic to cats.”

A betrayed meow sounded from below and both of them look down to find Liho, gazing expectantly at Tony. “Meow,” she says again.

“Think you got some explaining to do,” Steve smirks, looking at Tony. As if on cue, Tony sneezes so hard that Liho jumps a foot in the air before scrambling away in fear.

“Oh uh,” he cups his mouth and nose, blinking at Steve, lost.

And Steve knows it’s bad to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. At least he saves himself with a smooth invite when he’d calmed down. “Wanna wait outside? Let me close the shop and we’ll…”

“Dinner?”

“Definitely.”

“Great!” Tony grins at him so prettily and Steve, with his heart fluttering in its cage, leans in and kisses him sweet.

#stony #stevetony #mine #prompts

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS I A VENOMOUS INTERLUDE

Did y'all know symbrock is canon? Well, now you do. Reader's favourite deadbeat surrogate uncle is in town and he brought a... Friend. No warnings, just a boatload of crack and fluff, as usual. Reader being mouthy. Takes place a little bit into the future - around after chapter 32: spoiler alert is useless because we already know a tonybrucestrange/reader quartet is the endgame. 💖💝✨

"What," I had to pause for a second for my brain to catch up with my eyes. "The fuck?!"

It was truly a miracle I could say anything out loud, at all. Words weren't valid enough to describe my shock and confusion. The scene unfolding in front of me resembled and unholy cross between a B-rated horror movies about demonic possession and some deep-sea Eldritch monstrosity.

The eight-feet tall black, oozing dude in front of me? Yes, you, with the teeth. Ctulhu called, he wants his tentacles back.

The creature honest to god rippled, like some nightmare-fuel goth Jell-O, rapidly shrinking in size within seconds. As more of the black tar-like substance receded, a much more human form started to appear under it. Worn jeans, leather jacket, ungroomed beard and the look of a biker gang member coming off a serious bender.

"Uh, Princess?"

"Eddie. Fucking. Brock. Uncle Idiot." I punctuated each word with an increasing widening of my eyes. The world was fucking nuts. Two and two did not compute - Eddie might have looked threatening to some people - like white suburban Karens - even without the... Gooey squid-on-steroids thing he had going on. The man was built like a fucking brick shithouse, but I knew him way too well. Eddie couldn't be that badass to save a life.

"You two know each other?" Tony shrieked indignantly, a coarseness in his voice that indicated only one thing: my boo was well into his third drink. Hell, I didn't blame him - that gaping toothy maw was fucking gnarly.

Hands on my hips, I caught myself slipping into a mute rage, storming over to the 200lbs worth of pure dumbass and knocking him right in the face. "You! Didn't tell! ME!" A black tendril wrapped around my wrist, carefully but firmly securing it and preventing me from causing my non-related uncle any more physical damage. Although I must admit, my knuckles probably were more affected than his jaw. "You! Are! A MUTANT!!! HOW COULD YOU?! How could you NOT tell ME?"

I trusted the man with my soul and most embarrassing drinking stories. Hell, I called Eddie in a stoned haze the very same night I lost my v-card. I just thought we were bros, you know? I saw his whole fucking life implode more than once and personally flew to California to ice his injuries and his hurt ego countless times. I was done dirty in the worst way.

"I'm not-" Eddie's sigh was long-suffering. "I, uh, I have a parasite..." He sounded meek, in the same way he used to describe his drunkenly misconduct when I made our family driver bail out his ass outta jail in the morning.

"TAKE THAT BACK!" A deep gravelly voice thundered, seemingly coming out of his chest?

"Okay, okay," Eddie smiled. It was strangely soft and un-eddie-like. The only person he smiled like that was... used to be Anne. "This is Venom. They're an alien and we're, uh, a thing. It's a recent development." The tentacle unwrapped itself from me as I took an involuntary step back.

Even barring the fact that Eddie was dating an alien, this was way too fucking weird for 3 o'clock on a Sunday. I always knew the reporter was, for the lack of a better word, a little weird but he really took it to new heights. With Thor and Loki looking... Like that, I could see a human dating some sort of a hot alien. But with Ctulhu looking the way he did just minutes ago? Did Eddie seriously let all of those teeth in close proximity of his dick?

I had a "ERROR 404, common sense not found" hanging over me for the longest time. The others were quiet behind me, too, even Tony - one of my boyfriends, the most likely to cause utter chaos, was hanging back and expecting me to do something.

"Venom," I clarified, just to fill the silence with some noise while my brain processors re-synced.

"WE ARE VENOM." The tentacle that was sleek and black now had two completely white eyes and a smaller-scale version of the toothy grin that had drooled all over the common room carpet. Their voice had an interesting effect: it was so deep, the air around them vibrated slightly when they spoke.

I tilted my head examining the appendage. It was considerably less terrifying when it wasn't five times my size. "What are you?" And most importantly, are you a threat to my favourite non-related family member? I left that statement unspoken although it was obvious I was ready to fight it? Them? If need be.

"A SYMBIOTE," They replied, swaying the head-tentacle slowly. "WE LOVE EDDIE AND KEEP HIM ALIVE AND HEALTHY." So, they understood the actual question.

"Which is fucked up because Klyntar usually behave in the opposite way." Hearing Thor swear was, perhaps, even more unsettling than finding out about the symbiote-alien-boyfriend thing my uncle had going on. The thunderer himself was nursing a jug of golden liquid. The good Asgardian stuff, he must've been really fucking bamboozled.

"Okay. So anybody wanna fill me on the details before I beat up my favourite idiot?" I sighed, pointedly looking at Tony.

"I thought I was your favourite idiot!" He immediately retorted, hurt, but nonetheless opened his arms to give me a grounding embrace. We may have sucked face for a few seconds, because why the hell not, Tony was an amazing kisser and his tongue down my throat was very calming.

"Hold up, what the fuck?" Now it was Eddie's turn to act all offended. "Aren't you a little too young for him?"

"You and your most likely carnivorous goth space pudding can fuck right off if you're not going to be supportive of my very inappropriate, very polyamorous relationship with three incredibly hot boomers," I shot back, slipping into some resemblance of normalcy. Me and Eddie go way, way back and shitting on each other's bad life decisions was the founding stone of our bromance. Hell, he was the guy who showed me the wonders of sarcasm at an early age! Wonderbaum!

"There's three of them?" Eddie's voice pitched and he gaped, palming his face.

"SHE HAS A POINT, EDDIE. WE EAT PEOPLE. BEING UNSUPPORTIVE WOULD MAKE US LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE." Eddie's buddy stated, sounding almost fed up. So, they were sentient enough to recognize how much of a pain in the ass Eddie could be. I could work with that, disregarding the cannibalism comment, of course. What the fuck was up with that?

"Yes, Eddie, I also periodically bump uglies and trade disgustingly sweet text messages with the Hulk and a badass wizard," I rolled my eyes at the reporter's following gasp and angry muttering. "Venom, I like you."

"WE RETURN THE SENTIMENT. YOUR CHOICE IN MATES IS VERY WISE, CONSIDERING YOU ARE A WEAK MORSEL. THEY CAN PROTECT YOU."

"Shut up, Squid. I'll still kick your motherfucking ass if you hurt Eddie."

The emo space goo laughed, a terse scratching noise, showing way, way too many teeth for me to feel comfortable but I allowed myself to be placed on the couch between Tony and Eddie nonetheless. The initial shock of seeing a talking octopod with fangs passed quickly - I've seen Stephen's "trophies" he brought from his otherworldly journeys and Lovecraftian horrors were, honestly, pretty low on the gross/creepy scale.

"Both of you, explain. For the love of fuck," Tony sighed, emotionally exhausted and drained of his usual bravado.

"Eddie was my dad's friend until he moved to Cali, I've know him for fifteen years, give or take. He taught me how to ride a bike and bake the best pot brownies," I shrugged. There wasn't much to say. "I visited him whenever I could but you know, with school and then you guys, there wasn't that much time to iron out the details." I have Eddie a death glare, pointing to Venom's floaty head with my eyes.

Eddie nodded. "What she said..." And then launched an elaborate tale about some company called Life Foundation, some evil dude named Drake and his own alien pudding named Carnage, who was one ugly motherfucker judging by Eddie's and Venom's combined "ew" face, their aching need for human brains to survive and other, more trivial things, like mental breakdowns in a lobster tank and getting dumped by a fiancé and eating their way through a HYDRA base after being captured and tortured. What a wild fucking ride.

"Sounds like you had a rough year," Everybody's dumbfounded silence was ended by Tony who took a slow swig of his whiskey before speaking.

"Yeah, no shit," Eddie muttered, twisting his black coated fingers in elaborate but frankly pretty shapes. His alien wrapped around his neck like a tube scarf and additional tentacles appeared between Eddie's hands, gently prying them open and enveloping them in a sort of a hug? It was hard to compute, the black mass appeared to be totally amorphous.

"How's your anxiety?" I asked, damn well knowing Eddie's mind tended to run like Tony's: zero to sixty in point five with no clear destination. Having an alien inside of him must've really thrown Eddie for a loop.

"It's, uh, better. Venom helps," The reporter admitted, still staring at his hands but the crease between his brows had disappeared and the expression he wore was kind of fond.

"Good. You know, Venom," I thoughtfully addressed the definitely sentient creature. "Eddie is a bigger dumbass than me, which is saying something. You ought to keep a really close eye on him. If not for me, he'd probably be dead from alcohol poisoning, like, years ago."

"WE ARE AWARE. WE CAN ACCESS EDDIE'S MEMORIES." A head manifested itself on a thicker tentacle, floating over to look me in the face but maintaining a respectful distance and staying out of my personal space bubble. "AND WE ARE THANKFUL. EDDIE IS THE PERFECT HOST. WE LOVE EDDIE."

I felt the corner of my mouth tilt upwards at the alien's proclamation. It was child-like in its blunt honesty but carried a certain weight with it. It told me whoever tries to separate those two in any way would get eaten faster than they could say "SIKE!". And honestly? I would help Venom hide the evidence.

"I literally had you for thirty minutes but I would kill everybody and then myself if you two got hurt. This is too soft, I can't." I snorted, extending a curious hand towards Venom. They looked so shiny. I had to touch them.

And they let me. Venom butted their head into my palm and let me gently run my fingers over their slightly cool, slippery flesh. It felt like putting my hands on a surprisingly sturdy yet bouncy piece of flubber. I purposely avoided the small maw and the endless rows of sharp teeth but managed to accidentally brush against something rough and scratchy - as it turned out, the Symbiote had a very long, very dexterous tongue. And didn't that give me a bunch of interesting mental images.

"Oh my God, NO!" Wanda moaned from somewhere, the voice mortified and disgusted.

"Why are you touching the people-eating alien?" Bruce yelped, entering the room with several people in tow. The scientist looked worried, a little bit green around the edges. The tablet in his hands beeped periodically, signifying the ongoing sciencing bender he was in process of.

"WE WOULD NOT EAT THIS HUMAN. WE ARE FOND OF THE MORSEL." Venom defended, well, venomously. Eddie wisely choose to stay silent, trading a knowing look with Tony.

Stephen Strange sighed, briefly closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with a jagged movement. "One day, Princess, one day you will stop collecting people that are obviously bad for your health and your future. That, or space in the tower will simply run out." With a deeper, calmer sigh, the sorcerer landed in front of me on the floor, sitting cross-legged and subtly begging for a head scratch. Which meant just placing his always neatly trimmed curls under my free hand. His jealousy was about as subtle as a foot in the face.

"I'll just ask Tony to build more floors, duh," I rolled my eyes with force at the obvious solution, giving into Steph's demands, beginning to card through his hair. It was calming both of us, really.

Bruce came over to give me a kiss and my other boyfriends didn't even grumble about the scientist placing himself in my lap, crawling over both Tony and Stephen to get comfortable.

Our dynamic was unconventional and more than a little weird, but it worked for us and the rest of the team most certainly didn't complain about the vast decrease in conflict that came with the territory. Come to think of it, all of us were more tactile than just a group of friends sharing a house and I was very much on board with that. None of us except select few (looking at you, mister doctor) were hugged enough as children and we were making up for it in spades right fucking now.

"Girl has a type," Wanda remarked, like the messy little shit she was. I stuck out my tongue in retaliation.

The Avengers' brain trust began talking about Venom's slightly inconvenient diet that directly resulted in multiple felonies for one Edward Brock, and as much as I tried to follow the flow and make my own, however feeble, contributions to the scientific side of the conversation, the new life form was much more interesting. I asked Venom several questions and they deemed them acceptable enough to answer - which evolved on both of us absolutely geeking out over the differences in our physiology. The space pudding didn't hold back one bit, insulting the inferior human biology with gleeful gusto.

"They need a chemical called phenethylamine," Bruce sighed, having deduced it through discussion since Venom and Eddie both protested aggressively against any kind of invasive testing. "I can synthesize it. No more head-chomping, no more murder."

It made perfect sense. Except it didn't. "Brucie-bear, you're a brilliant fucking scientist but a shit psychologist." I interrupted whatever came next. "Venom is a person, like me and you and, yes, even Hulk. Tell me this: if you found a way to get rid of Hulk, would you stop sciencing in the gamma radiation field?" I looked my boyfriend straight in the eyes, hoping for a spark of common sense. "Do you see my point? You science, Tony engineers, Steve draws and Clint bakes. Venom hunts. It's who they are, you can't give them a pill to make it go away."

The weight of my word landed in the room like lead, heavy. The only source of sound was the TV, playing the news quietly in the background for the longest time. Those few minutes felt like hours until Thor expectantly turned towards Eddie/Venom.

"IT IS SO. WE ARE AFRAID WE CANNOT INFLUENCE OUR INSTINCT TO HUNT PREY. KLYNTAR ARE APEX PREDATORS." The little black goop sounded almost apologetic. It was hard to hear undertones with their voice being so deep and grating. "BUT WE CAN TRY." Okay, I could totally hear the hope. Finding out the Eldritch horror could make puppy eyes was... Terrifying, to be honest, because they fucking worked.

"Got any better ideas?" Tony asked me sarcastically.

"I do, actually." I leveled a look with Natasha. She understood. "HYDRA goons. The aliens that, for some reason, keep invading New York every month or so. Stephen's adventures in Hell. Do I need to continue?"

"Wait, hold on," Steve raised his palms. "We don't kill HYDRA, we deposit them in SHIELD custody."

I snorted at the naïve Captain. "And what do you think happens to them there? Did you honestly think they just let torturing, murdering, world-domination planning psychos back on the streets?"

Steve frowned in confusion. "They go to prison?"

Natasha choose that moment to step up. "It's not uncommon for them to possess certain enhancements to be deemed too dangerous to be released back into society. Some of them are low-tier mutants and inhumans. Trust me, Steve, the lethal injection is a much more humane treatment than solitary life imprisonment in a ultra-high security prison." Romanoff stated with a trace of compassion. "And some mutants, we can't contain for prolonged periods of time." She added quietly, looking away.

Rogers was staring blankly into the wall, mulling over the information in his head. His intensive thought process was plainly visible on his face. I heard about some kind of fiasco with HYDRA agents suicide-bombing a city in Europe few years ago and Steve was there, along with Wanda and Sam.

"Venom is a whole person, and even if they look like they could be the main character in Call of Ctulhu video game, we can't just disregard them like they are some kind of badly behaving pet. They're my honorary uncle's boyf-sorry-significant other, for fuck's sake," I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. "Y'all should know I don't fuck with people who give shit to one of my own. Don't disappoint me like that." I finished, feeling more tired than I had in months. I didn't regret giving into the found family dynamic, however I didn't exactly sign up for hard choices like them vs my long lost uncle, y'know?

Great, now I had a headache and three very concerned boyfriends glaring at me for unknown reasons. The urge to pace always manifested strongly within me as the emotional atmosphere rose in the room. With Bruce dangling off my lap, I couldn't do even that and I felt the restlessness blossom into irritation more and more with each passing second of my existence.

Eddie remained silent, looking down. Venom had mostly receded into the reporter's body, save for a few tentacles tightly wrapped around Eddie's palm.

"Alright," Steve suddenly said. "We can work with that."

"Princess, you look like you're either going to cry or yell any second," Bruce said softly, squeezing my shoulder and pulling me closer.

I immediately hid my face in his chest, taking several deep, shaky breaths. "Eddie is family. Y'all are family. It's terrifying to have to choose between the two." I said, after a brief moment of hesitation.

The reporter made some sort of a choked gasp, quickly masking it with a cough - I knew him way too well to miss the way he was fighting back tears of his own. Bruce understood, he really did understand me - hopped off my lap and let me hug Eddie properly, my happy-sad tears soaking through the collar of his tee.

"You're, uh, welcome to stay. I'll have a guest room prepared." Tony cleared his throat, passing his half-finished glass to Stephen who swallowed the liquid in one gulp. My boyfriends were so fucking emotionally illiterate. Disaster humans.

Huh, I really did have a type.

Later that night, I made the mistake of barging into Eddie's room with a bottle of really fancy whiskey I liberated from Tony's overstocked liquor cabinet. Visiting my uncle and boozing and smoking on the balcony, for old times sake, was my plan and...

I failed the mission successfully.

I didn't bother knocking. As soon as I saw a pair of bare feet, my eyes traveled further up on the couch on their own volition. There were so many tentacles, a writhing, oozing silky black mass and Eddie was making sounds, unmistakable noises-

"UNSEE. UNSEE. OH MY GOD, UNSEE, UNSEE." I stumbled back into the common room shivering.

"What happened, is everything okay?" Bucky stood up as soon as he saw me enter the doorway with my face scrunched in a grimace of regret. I felt like I've gone through the five stages of grief in the shortest time possible for a human being.

Somwhere, I heard Wanda's sudden moan full of pain and misery. "Please, stop THINKING about it!"

"Brain bleach, oh my God," I cringed. "Where's the Clorox?! I have decided I don't need my eyeballs-"

"Oooh," Tony's proverbial lightbulb lit up. The engineer sounded like he was about five seconds away from building a space ship and permanently moving to another planet. "They're together-together..." Tony intercepted me nonetheless, doing the most effective thing to make me stop speaking and thinking bullshit. He kissed me. With lots of tongue.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #eddie brock #venom #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #stephen strange x you #venom is babey fight me

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babybatscreationsv2 · 4 years ago

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A King on a Leash ch3

Marvel | Starker

Tony Stark is a powerful man with a beautiful husband and a loyal crime family, but it looks like he didn't keep his husband on a short enough leash. After turning Peter lose on a Cuban gang leader, Peter's life is in danger. The real trouble is that Tony now realizes that Peter is the only thing in this world that he cares about and he never meant for that to happen.

Rating: Explicit

Full Fic

A Doll on a String

Warnings under the cut*

Warnings this chapter: mentions of violence and murder

Tony at sat at the dining table and stared at the far wall caught between a daydream and a serious self-flogging. He was the fucking Boss of a motherfucking crime family and here he was pouting and daydreaming about his husband. Peter had only been gone a few hours. He'd given him a kiss and then ran off to the theater for practice. Maybe he should start going to Peter's meetings. No... no Peter deserved the time and the privacy with his friends.

Tony took a deep breath and he caught scent of Peter's skin still clinging to him. He had scratches on his back from his manicured nails. Tony could hear the echoes of his cries as he'd clung to him, near sobbing in pain and pleasure. Tony licked his lips. Fuck, the way his angel had slaughtered that whole boat for his sake. God, he was hard.

He could call him and Peter would come running home. He could grab him, strip him down, lick every inch of his skin.

He couldn't do that though. They had the trust that they did because neither of them pulled stupid shit like that. He couldn't interrupt something important because he was needy and Peter's dancing was important to him.

Tony groaned. He slapped his own face. "Get it together, Stark. There's work to do."

He pulled himself up from his chair and went to take a shower. He indulged himself a little more, thinking about Peter waiting for him in a lounge chair, splattered with their enemy's blood. He got himself off then he washed away Peter's scent from his skin. No more distractions.

Dressed in his suit, all black to balance Peter's taste for pure while, he finally went to take care of business.

He drove himself, followed loosely by a guard. They made their way into the city and down to the warehouse. Tony stepped out of the car and smoothed the lapels of his suit. He let the guard enter first to check the room before he stepped inside. The day's product was being packaged. There were the gold bars that Peter had recovered, whatever drugs Bucky was peddling, not a lot going out of the warehouse today, but that wasn't really where the money was at anyway. The money was in the casinos, Sam Wilson's jewelry shop, Steve's cafe. Legitimate businesses, until you went into the back. The casinos were rigged, Sam sold illegal and precious jewels, and Steve had his girls. That was the funny thing about Steve. He was so straight laced and caring, but he made his money in prostitutes. He treated them well though. Well enough that even Natasha never bothered him about it.

Tony strode his way into the back, ignoring the greetings of the associates on the floor. He preferred them to fear him. If they thought he was friendly, then they would be inclined to betray him. They would expect mercy where they would find none.

Rhodey was waiting for him outside the office.

"You gotta put that boy on a leash, Tony," he said, not for the first time.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Who did he kill now?" He pushed open the door and Rhodey followed him inside.

"I'm talking about Suarez."

Tony turned and raised an eyebrow at him. "That second rate gang banger?"

Rhodey closed the door and stepped further into the room. "His men are going wild trying to track Peter down. They're not stupid. They know Peter was on that boat, they know he was an outsider, and they know that their boss never came home."

"So they haven't found his body yet?" Tony sat at his desk and picked up his book. Yinsen must have been too busy to stick around this morning. Sometimes he just dropped it off.

"They will. They have divers going down there this afternoon. From the story that's circulating the boys, it's gonna be pretty damn obvious what happened."

Tony asked, pointedly ignoring him. "Did Fisk get his diamonds back?"

Rhodey stared.

Tony sighed. "What's the big deal? They don't even know Peter's last name and there's a million Peters in New York. They'll never find him. They won't come after us. And if they do, I'm sure it'll be no big deal to sweep them off the board."

"You don't get it, Tony. Your boy goes and fucks with powerful people and then we all get fucked. When they find out who did it and then come looking for trouble we're gonna lose good people. I know you don't give a damn about our soldiers, but what happens when it's one of your Capos? The people you do give a shit about? What the fuck kind of family doesn't take care of their own?"

"You're going too fucking far, Rhodes," Tony snapped. He ground his teeth. He didn't want to fight with Rhodey, not him. He was the only one that ever made sense. Only now he wasn't.

"You stay the fuck out of my husband's business. Capiche?"

Rhodey took a step back. "Right. Got it?"

"Now, did Fisk get his diamonds?"

"Yeah, he got the fucking diamonds. Sent a fucking convoy to deliver them late last night. Didn't figure he'd wanna wait until morning."

"That's a good call. He'll appreciate that."

Rhodey sighed. "Why are you trying to win his favor anyway? He's a piece of shit. Word is he's still trafficking. Kids even."

Tony hardened himself, refused to hear the truth in it, refused to let it bother him. "I need someone to back me up at the meeting this weekend."

"What's going on?"

"Toomes keeps prodding at the whole Octavius bullshit."

"What do you mean?"

"He thinks Peter should pay for killing him, despite what happened."

Rhodey gave him a very 'I told you so look'.

"What? I'm supposed to throw him to the wolves? If it hadn't been him, it would have been you and you I can't protect."

"I'm not convinced you would try."

Tony ignored that too. He had enough to deal with. "He keeps trying to cast doubts on. Make him seem disloyal. I'm inclined to cut out his tongue for how many times he's put Peter's name in his mouth."

"You can't keep killing Bosses, Tony."

"I know that. But Toomes needs to be put in his place. He's getting too bold. Having Fisk on my side helps. Everyone respects him, or fears him at least."

Rhodey didn't say what Tony knew he was thinking. 'They used to respect you.' Maybe he did need to reign Peter in a little. At least make sure he doesn't murder anymore gang leaders. Let him keep pruning the weeds among the associates. Profits had been up since Peter joined the family. Plus it made his angel happy. It gave him a way to feel like he was protecting Tony without being in harm's way. Which meant that it was exactly what he needed to be doing. And he couldn't say he didn't like watching his baby go to town on some snitch... He had to stop thinking about Peter if he was going to get the books done.

Rhodey left him alone, though he left with a grim expression on his face. Tony cleared his mind and returned to his work.

Yinsen kept detailed records of every penny that came and went. He kept up with what each Capo was doing every day and made sure that proper records were kept of money and of behavior. Any suspicious activity from any Capo or soldier was reported to Tony twice per week. Unless of course, it were more serious. That's what the book was for. Yinsen insisted on keep paper records only. Things that could be destroyed at a moment's notice and could not be simply hacked into for information. It was occasionally inconvenient, but Tony understood his reasoning. Besides, Yinsen was one of the only people Tony had genuine trust for. After all, he'd been tortured near to death for Tony's sake. That had been Obediah's doing.

The books looked fairly clean. Money was flowing exactly as it should, but Yinsen had caught wind of a solider belonging to Steve who was misbehaving. Steve had already put him in check once. That meant it was Tony's turn and if Tony couldn't get him to fall in line, then Tony would let Peter have him.

It was a good system. One that Rhodey had no business questioning. He could be so soft sometimes.

Tony tucked the book away in his safe and stepped out of the office. His guards followed behind. They drove on down the road to park in the back of Steve's cafe 'Patriot Brew'. The name drew a handful of white supremacists who Steve was quick to take out back and deal with. The thing that amused Tony was that he hadn't picked the name as a sort of trap for domestic terrorists, he was just the sort who genuinely believed in his country. If Tony admired anything about the states, it was how easy it was for organized crime to thrive, but he didn't give a fuck about patriotism.

He knocked on the backdoor and was let in after a moment. He allowed one of his guards to enter first. Steve was in the kitchen, pulling cookies out of the oven. Tony leaned against counter and plucked up a cookie that was already cooled.

"Nice mitts, soldier boy." Tony pulled a piece off of his cookie and chewed it.

Steve set down his tray and each of his star-spangled oven mitts. "Do we really have to do it like this? Mark's a good guy?"

"You couldn't get him in line so now I have to," Tony said with a mouthful of cookie.

His shoulders sagged. "Would it really be so bad if he opened his own business?"

"Do I really have to answer that?" Tony took another bite of his cookie. "We both know he's not looking to open a bakery. And with him trying to go behind your back like that? How did you punish him anyway? Make him mop the floors?"

Steve stared. It was a look that conveyed both 'I'm not going to answer that' and 'You wouldn't like the answer' yet with Steve these things were not necessarily mutually inclusive.

"If a soldier wants to open a business you make him lick your boots first and then cut you thirty percent. Keep being soft on your boys and you'll wake up with a knife in your back."

"I encourage my people to be successful and on their own terms."

"They ask permission and they pay their dues. We have a system for a reason. What happens when your boy opens up a shop across the street? Who's gonna come here when there's something hot and new nearby? We don't create competition within the family. He could have had a place where he could have gotten all ambitious, but he lied and he went behind your back. He's lucky to be getting another chance."

Steve folded his arms across his chest. "If Peter had it his way, he wouldn't get another chance."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Why is everyone so soft today? We're the fucking mob, get used to it. Now where's your boy? Mark, was it?"

Steven sighed. "Make it clear I'm not allowing him to have his own girls, I don't trust anyone else with that."

"Why couldn't you tell him yourself, Rogers? Anyone else would have had this handled."

"So, I'm soft on my guys, alright? Does that make you happy? They're all the family I have."

"Family," Tony grumbled. "We're all a family. And sometimes moms and dads have to discipline the children."

"And who disciplines us?"

"God?" Tony shrugged. He walked past the man. "Box up some cookies for Peter. He likes the blue sprinkles."

He heard Steve huff when he left the room. If he didn't know how much his men liked Peter, he would worry about the way they talked. Maybe they thought he was a little wild, but they would let themselves get caught holding the knife to protect him. If he thought otherwise, he would kill every last one of them.

#starker #marvel #mafia au #a king on a leash

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arrow-guy · 5 years ago

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Broken Flock (6/??)

Summary: It’s been two years since you uprooted your life and left to figure out who you really are, leaving behind Bucky and Clint with little more than a note as a warning. Now, New York is calling your name and it’s time to go home. How will Clint and Bucky react to your return, and how will the time have affected your relationship?

A/N: Please understand that the end of this chapter will be quite heavy and potentially triggering for some people,. Please read at your own discretion and forgive me for the ending. That is all.

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: WinterhawkxReader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Heights, falling, drugging, passing out

Part 5

“(Y/N),” Clint mumbles. He shakes my shoulder and I groan. “(Y/N), there’s someone at the door.”

“Hmm?”

“Someone’s knocking,” he mumbles.

Clint rolls over and goes back to sleep. I sit up and glare at him before rubbing my eyes and shoving myself up from the bed. It takes a moment for the knocking sounds to reach my ears and I scrub my hands over my face in frustration. I suddenly find myself wishing I hadn’t taken down my “No Solicitation” sign.

They knock harder and louder and I can’t stop myself from yelling, “Knock it off! You bang any harder, you’re gonna have to marry the fucking door, or some shit.”

The knocking doesn’t die down and I swing the door open only to immediately freeze. Steve stands out in the hallway with Natasha at his side.

“(Y/N),” he says.

“Aw, fuck.”

I slam the door closed and immediately run back to my bedroom. Clint still hasn’t moved and stirs slightly when my wings brush against him as I race past. I grab my bag from the chair in the corner and yank the window open. Clint sits up and blinks against the afternoon light, confused.

“Why’re you climbing out the window?”

“Steve and Nat were at the door.” I flatten my wings against my back, but can’t seem to fit through the window. “Gonna fuckin kill me if they catch me.”

“Why?”

“Slammed the door in their faces.”

Clint covers his face with his hands and flops back down onto the bed with a groan. “This is it. This is the day I die.”

“Not yet.”

I whip around to find Natasha and Steve stepping into the room. I sigh heavily and drop my bag to the floor. Steve folds his arms across his chest and Natasha follows suit.

"I'm surprised Bucky's not here," Natasha continues.

"He got stuck at the tower last night with work. Otherwise, he would be," Clint explains. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks directly at her. "What're you doing here, Nat?"

"You weren't home, figured we'd try the one other place you've been known to disappear to." She looks very pointedly at me and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why didn’t you tell us you were back?”

“Because I’m not,” I answer. “I’m in town. That’s it.”

“We know you were up near the Compound last week, (Y/N),” Steve says. “Why were you anywhere near there if you’re not back?”

“Bucky took me upstate to stretch my wings. It’s harder to do so unnoticed in the city.”

“Why were you near the compound?”

“What is this with this interrogation?” Steve simply raises his eyebrows, silently telling me to answer the question. I sigh and shake my head. “I got a little off course and didn’t realize where I was until it was too late. I redirected as soon as I saw the first building, but even then I was probably half a mile away, maybe more.”

‘I see.“

“How’d you know it was me anyway?”

“Asked Sam what got picked up on the scanner. He said it was just a big bird,” Steve explains. “But, you’re way too big a blip to just be a big bird.”

“No, she’s a big ass bird,” Clint corrects. “Massive difference.”

“Clint, you’re not helping,” I say. I perch on the bed beside him and he reaches out and places his hand on my knee. “Still doesn’t explain why you decided to make the trip out here to see us.”

“We just wanted to see you for ourselves, (Y/N),” Natasha says. “It’s been two years. You can hardly blame us for needing to double check.”

“Could’ve just asked.”

“You say that like you would’ve actually answered.”

“You wouldn’t have to ask me. Clint and Bucky are more than capable of giving you the information.” I press my lips together. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell anyone I was coming back.”

“Then why did you come back?” Natasha asks.

“Because I missed my idiots.”

“Aw,” Clint squeezes my knee. “You’re so nice, (Y/N).”

“Nah, I’m an asshole. Everyone knows it.”

“Mm, yeah, but we’ve always hoped for better from you,” he says, dumb smile on his face.

I snort. Everyone’s head turns when the door opens and shuts. Keys clatter against the kitchen counter and I sigh in relief.

“(Y/N)? You here?”

“In the bedroom!” I call back.

Bucky wanders into the room, yanking his sweatshirt over his head. Clint laughs when he nearly crashes into Steve. He just barely misses, but looks around in confusion when he can finally see again.

“The hell is this?” he asks, gesturing between Steve and Natasha.

“She couldn’t get through the window fast enough,” Clint explains.

“Clint, that’s even more confusing,” Bucky says.

Clint gestures with a flourish. “I live to serve.”

Bucky shakes his head and skirts around Steve and Natasha before crawling onto the bed and sprawling out between Clint and I. I squawk at him about having his shoes on my duvet and he kicks them off onto the floor. He shuffles up the bed and props his chin up on my calf. I comb my fingers through his hair and he sighs and melts into the mattress.

“We’re fine here, guys,” Clint says. “(Y/N) is working on her own deal, and Bucky and I are still obviously engaged with the team. Our priorities haven’t changed.”

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks.

“Nat, we spent two years looking for her and now we’re coming home to her at the end of the day. So, yeah,” he glances over at me and smiles. “I’m sure.”

“Fine.” She grabs Steve’s arm and steers him out of the room. “We’ll see you bright and early on Monday, then.”

Bucky and Clint wave to them as they leave and, only when the door closes for the final time, do we allow ourselves to fully relax. I coax Bucky onto his side and shimmy down the bed to lie beside him. He wraps his arms around me and keeps his metal arm held tight to my body while stroking one of my wings with the other to avoid pinching.

“So it seems like you guys’ve had an eventful day,” Bucky mumbles against my shoulder.

“(Y/N) slammed the door in their faces,” Clint says.

“Oh shit, really?”

“Yeah. Then she tried to climb out the window to get away, but her wings are too big and she can’t get through this one.”

“No, my wings are fine,” I correct. “The window’s too small.”

“Ah, ” Bucky hums. “Blaming windows, now, are we?”

I flick his ear and he laughs. “I am not blaming windows.”

“Then what are you blaming?”

“Myself for not finding a bigger window.”

“Oh, duh, obviously.”

I shake my head and press a little closer to his chest and reach out for Clint with one hand. Clint takes it and laces our fingers together. Clint curls himself around Bucky’s back and asks him about his day. Bucky complains about being stuck at the Tower the entire day yesterday, forced to sit in an hours long conference with General Ross, debating the viability and sustainability of the proposed Sokovia Accords. Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Rhodey had entered the call having read everything in the packets they’d been provided multiple times and had essentially been talked at and over the entire time they were in the conference. By the end of it, even Tony was starting to lose his cool, and he’d gone into the call most willing to comply with the Accords.

“So Ross acted like he wasn’t talking to a handful of the world's most dangerous people?” I ask.

“I could pop that guys head like a pimple, and he acted like I was a dumb little three year old,” Bucky says. “Steve was able to stay calm enough to get in contact with a few other people who helped draft the Accords and we were allowed to write up our own edits, but we have twenty four hours to do so.”

Clint sighs. “What time did you manage to get to sleep last night?”

“Five in the morning, I think. Can’t really remember. We worked in shifts with the rewrites, so I think Stark and Rhodes are working on it right now. Steve’s gonna have Nat go back through and see if there’s anything she’d add before we throw the damn thing at the General’s fuckin head.”

“I could help, if you want,” I offer. "I've got great aim."

Bucky laughs. "Thanks, but I'm pretty sure that'd get us into more trouble than we're already in."

“Ah, well, maybe next time then.”

Clint snorts. “You two hungry at all?”

“Eh,” Bucky responds. “I could eat. (Y/N)?”

I shrug. "I'll probably want something by the time we finish cooking."

Clint grins at me over Bucky's shoulder. "Great. What's on the menu, guys?"

Tuesday morning, the door flies open at exactly 10:35. I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen, breakfast in hand, and nearly drop the bowl at the sound of the front door slamming into the wall.

"Hope you're decent, cause I'm coming in anyway!" a familiar voice calls.

I groan and put my breakfast on the counter. “Go home, Tony!”

He appears from the entryway and grins. “That’s no way to treat a guest, (Y/N).”

“I didn’t invite you!”

“I’m happy to see you, too.”

I roll my eyes. “Why are you here?”

He walked through the apartment, looking around, his head tilted to the side. “Heard my favorite winged killing machine was back in town, and I had to see it for myself.” He frowns at my furniture before he looks back at me. “You still live in this dump?”

“It’s not a dump, it’s my home. Clint does a great job of maintaining this place.”

“It’s a run down tenement building.”

“It’s an old ass brick building in the middle of New York City. It’s holding together as best it can. That doesn’t mean it’s a dump.” I lean against the counter and silently beg him to leave. “If you just wanted to see if I was here, you’d buzz by in one of your suits, but that’s not the case. So, why are you actually here?”

“So suspicious.” He tuts and shakes his head. “What do you take me for?”

“Someone who doesn’t have a lot of normal friends.”

“Did you get meaner while you were gone?”

“Tony, you broke into my home. I’m allowed to be a little mean.”

He sighs and his shoulders slump slightly. “Fine, I need someone to talk to, and I know you won’t judge me.”

“Why didn’t you call ahead? I’m assuming Steve and Nat told everyone I’m back.”

“I figured you’d find some way to be out when I showed up.”

“Tony, I have a job and I work from home. This is the only place I’d be.”

“A job?”

“Yes, a job.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Will you at least hear me out?”

“I don’t know, Tony, I’ve got a lot to do today…” He hits me with his puppy-dog look and I cave immediately. “Fine, you can stay. But you have to let me work while you talk.”

“Won’t that distract you?”

“No, I need external stimulus when I work sometimes. Usually that’s music, but I guess you’ll do.”

Tony launches into a long explanation of the issues with the Accords while I set up my work stuff for the day. I interject where I can and he seems surprised when I manage to keep up. I simply finish my breakfast and do the dishes before starting on work for the day. When Tony starts pacing, I turn slightly on the couch so that I can face him. After a bad experience with Bruce a few years back, Tony needs to know that the person he’s talking to is paying attention.

Tony keeps at it for three hours before he stops to ask for a glass of water and starts up again when he’s hydrated. By the end, I’m starting to understand how Bruce could fall asleep while Tony talks.

“Does that make sense?” Tony asks.

“Honestly, I totally get where you’re coming from, but none of that shit in Sokovia was your fault.”

“I don’t know...”

“Tony, you did what you could when it was happening, and even more after the dust settled. There’s no going back to fix that now. But do you honestly think that the Accords are a good idea? I mean, Bucky was talking to Clint and I about them a few days ago and they sound awful. Like literal grade-A bullshit.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know about you, but if I were being attacked on the street, I’d want someone to help me right then and there, not ask their boss for permission first. What if people are in danger and your superiors decide that they’re not a priority?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. And on top of that, people like me, people with powers and shit, just minding our own business, could potentially have to sign. If we don’t we could face prison time.” I sigh. “I’m not saying you’re wrong on any account, because it’d be great if the Avengers could get help from government agencies again, but I don’t think this is the right way to do it. Especially when you’re so used to being your own boss.”

“Right, but-”

“Tony, you asked for my opinion. I’m not gonna tell you that I’m one hundred percent right, this is just how I feel. I know that Steve and Bucky are pretty on the fence with the Accords as well.”

“That’s true.”

“I know Ross sent your revisions back, but you have to keep pushing this until they give up on the document, or you get your way. Just… whatever happens, you have to stick to your guns.”

“Right. I need to trust my gut.”

“That’s not what I said.”

The front door opens and Tony and I both look to see who it is.

“(Y/N), we’re back!” Clint calls.

“Oh, so he can come and go as he pleases, but I show up and you’re mad?”

“He has a key, and he’s not breaking down my door. Yes he can come and go as he pleases.”

Clint and Bucky stop short as they enter the living room.

“Didn’t realize you’d have company today,” Bucky says.

“I didn’t realize I’d have company today,” I shoot back. “He invited himself in.”

“That’s not nice, Tony,” Clint admonishes. “You know how private she is.”

Tony scowls. “I needed her advice!”

“Call ahead next time.”

Tony shakes his head and pushes himself up from the chair he eventually settled in. “I’ll take this as my cue to leave.” He stops just before he reaches the entryway. “Will we be seeing you around at all?”

I shake my head. “Probably not, no.”

“Shame.” He waves over his shoulder as he heads for the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

The front door closes one last time and I close my laptop and lie down on the couch. Clint sits on the floor in front of me and places my laptop on the coffee table.

“How long was he here?” he asks.

“Hours. Literal hours. He wanted to talk about the Accords.”

“Seriously?”

“I think he’s kind of waffling on his stance with the whole thing. Blames himself for the stuff that they’re citing as the reasons behind the Accords. But that’s bullshit, because they’ve probably been trying to figure out a way to put a leash on people like us for years, Sokovia was just the catalyst.” I turn over onto my front and sigh. “I don’t wanna be someone’s therapist!”

“Definitely not a good idea. You’re not qualified.”

“Super not qualified!” I cry.

“Well,” Bucky says. “He’s gone now, so we might as well chill out and have dinner.”

“What’s for dinner?” I ask.

“Takeout from the Chinese place down the street.”

“Ooh,” I push myself up from the couch. “I love their sweet and sour pork.”

Bucky smirks. “I know you do.”

I bound over to the kitchen and hug him tightly. “You’re the best.”

He laughs and I squeal when he hooks his hands under my thighs and picks me up. “I know I am.”

“Alright, strongman, put me down. Dinner’s getting cold, and Clint’s probably hungry.”

Bucky lets go and kisses the side of my head as soon as my feet touch the floor. We grab plates and flatware and set up the food around the coffee table. We eat and talk and laugh, and Clint eventually misses his dog and goes back to his apartment to get Lucky. Bucky leaves on a mission in the morning and has to go back to the tower. I go to bed alone.

Over the next week I see a pretty steady stream of old friends waltzing through my door. Sam drops in on Thursday to apologize again and overstays his welcome by two hours. Bruce stops by on Friday to drop off a tin of tea and a book he’d been holding onto since I left. I refuse to turn him away and ask if he wants to stay and stare a pot of tea. We talk for a few hours and I hug him before he leaves. Saturday sees Wanda, Natasha, and Rhodey in quick succession and I take to hiding in Clint’s apartment because I don’t have either him or Bucky through the weekend to act as a buffer. Bucky and Clint leave for a long mission Sunday night and by Tuesday, I’m able to go back to work in my own apartment. I finish my final project by four in the evening and let myself relax for the rest of the night.

Wednesday morning, I wake up restless and decide to go flying. I pack myself snacks and water and leave a note for Clint and Bucky in case they’re back before I am. Before I leave I drop by Clint’s apartment to feed and love on Lucky for a little bit. When I’m thoroughly covered in his hair, I say goodbye and head up to the roof for takeoff.

Flying through the city is different from the country. I have to fly higher than I’d like in order to get out of the smog, and even then I have to worry about avoiding buildings. For all it’s wonders, New York City feels like a bunch of hazards all shoved together and populated past it’s bounds. But still, it’s home. Apparently.

I decide to see how far I can get before my body forces me to turn around, and I get distracted enough while flying north that, without realizing it, I reach the field that Bucky took me to a couple weeks back. It looks just about the same as I remember it, even as the early morning fog dissipates. I take a couple of laps around the field before I decide to move on.

As I near the treeline, something hurtles towards me, and I just barely manage to dodge it before it hits me. I glance over my shoulder, and assume it was a drone or something when I can’t see what it was. I shrug and fly out over the forest. Something comes at me again, this time hitting the primary feathers of my right wing and coating them in a thick, heavy substance. I lose altitude immediately and try to shake whatever it is off. The substance won’t budge, and my left wing is soon hit with another projectile. I try to turn around and get away, but whatever’s on my wings is too heavy and I can’t seem to keep moving. I cry out as I fall to the treetops below.

I crash through several trees on my way down and my pack gets caught on a branch, nearly strangling me until I manage to unclip the strap. Unclipping my bag sends me tumbling to the forest floor and I fall flat on my face, unable to catch myself in time.

Shadows loom over me and I try to get up, only for someone to place their boot between my shoulders and hold me to the earth. I yell and struggle, to no avail and an unseen figure lifts my chin and presses a rag over my nose and mouth. I tell myself not to breathe, but something in me overrides every rational thought. My limbs grow heavy and dark patches start to creep in at the edge of my vision.

I stop moving, and everything goes dark.

----------

Part 7

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three-drink-amy · 5 years ago

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All the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

One chapter left folks! Thanks for sticking around and reading!

masterlist-AO3

Chapter Seventeen - The Winner Takes It All

Ten days remained until it was time for the Tony Awards. I knew Jamie was starting to get nervous, no matter how many times he insisted it didn’t matter. Honestly, I was nervous myself and I’d been plenty of times. Just like with every other part of the show, it was different this time because of Jamie. I was still more focused on his potential win than the fact that I might win. The only real reason I wanted to win was to stick it to Frank. He’d been most unhappy after I stood him up for dinner, but I’d dealt with it. After he’d (most likely) deprived me of a nomination for years, I wanted to win out of spite, more than anything else. Perhaps that was immature, but I didn’t really care.

I walked into the kitchen and found Jamie looking deep in thought. Leaning over his shoulder, I placed a kiss on his cheek. “What’s on your mind?”

He watched me as I moved about the kitchen. “My parents informed me that they’re flying in for the Tony Awards. And since I canna go wi’ ye, I did think I’d take one of them. But I canna make up my mind on which one to take. Either way, I feel like I’m betraying the other.”

I laughed, taking a sip of my coffee. “I can understand that. I took Lamb to my first Tony Awards.” He smiled at me before shaking his head with a sigh. I leaned against the island as a thought came to me. “How about this?” Jamie glanced up at me, ready to hear my idea. “Why don’t you take your mother and I can take your father?”

“What?”

“Well everyone’s allowed a date. Not everyone takes one. Like you said, ideally, I’d go with you. Going with your dad would be the closest I can get,” I said with a laugh.

Jamie chuckled, but looked unsure. “Are ye sure? Would ye no’ rather take Lamb?”

I shook my head, taking another sip of coffee. “Nope. He’s been to the Tony Awards plenty of times. Then you don’t have to feel guilty about leaving one of your parents out. You take your mom. I’ll take your dad. Then, they can both be there for you on your big night. We all sit near each other, so it’ll work out.”

He stood up and wound around the island, moving closer toward me. “You’d really do that for me?”

I wrapped one arm around his waist. “Of course I would. Besides, your dad is a fun guy. I’m sure I’ll have a good time with my date.”

Laughing and shaking his head at me, Jamie bent down to kiss my forehead. “You are too good to me, ye ken that?”

I shot him a doubting look. “I’m just as good to you as you are to me,” I assured him.

“What if someone asks why ye brought my dad to the show wi’ ye?”

I leaned my head against his chest as I thought about it. “I guess I’ll tell them that my formerly no-name, first time on Broadway and first time nominee told me he couldn’t decide which of his parents to bring to the show, and me, being a kind director who got along well with my star, volunteered to bring his dad so he didn’t have to choose.” I shrugged. “Just take out the part where you told me in our kitchen and how I’d met your parents because we spent Christmas together since we’re dating, and it all works very easily.”

Jamie laughed and tucked me in closer. “If you’re sure. I’ll let them know what the plan is. I’m sure they’ll be verra touched.”

“I hope so. I’m glad to get to see them again. I wish Jenny and Ian could make it.”

“I thought about asking Ian and no’ having to choose between my parents but wi’ Jenny pregnant, I figured she’d murder me if I took her husband from her when she can’t fly that far,” Jamie told me.

“I wouldn’t blame her, honestly.”

The morning of the Tony Awards was stressful, to be sure. I was bustling around, trying to get everything taken care of before the people I’d hired to do my hair and make up arrived. Jamie was running around trying to get everything he needed gathered before he had to leave for the theater. They still had the matinee before the awards show. His parents were staying at a hotel, thankfully, and hadn’t gotten swept up in the craziness of the morning.

“Okay, so you’re heading straight from the theater?” I called to him, cleaning up the kitchen.

“Aye. Picking up Mam at the hotel on the way, I believe.” He zipped up his garment bag and walked out to me. Curling an arm around my waist, he bent down to kiss me. “And then I’ll see ye at the awards.”

I sighed, leaning my head against his chest. “It’ll be hard again,” I reminded him.

His other arm came around me, holding me close. I matched his position and wrapped my arms around him. “I ken it will be. But after this, we’re free, aye? That was what we agreed upon?”

Glancing up at him, I nodded. He leaned down to kiss me and I met him in the middle. We stood there for a moment, locked in a slow, deep kiss. Breaking apart, I rested my head against his forehead. “One more day.”

With a grin on his face, Jamie broke out singing “One Day More” from Les Miserables. I put my hand over his mouth, shaking my head at him, trying so hard not to laugh. “Please, no.”

He laughed too, leaning his head back against mine. I felt him squeeze his hands at my waist. “Alright. But only because I need to be going.” Giving me one last kiss, he whispered to me, “We can do it.”

I hugged him tightly. “I know.” Pulling back, I cupped his face in my hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I took a deep breath, raising my eyebrows. “Big day.”

Jamie nodded, agreeing with me. “Big day.” He kissed my forehead and stepped back from me. “I’ll see ye there, Sassenach.”

“Break a leg!” I said as he gathered up his things.

A half hour after he left, my prep team showed up, ready to make me look more glamorous than I ever allowed myself to look on a daily basis. I chatted with them as my hair was curled and pinned into a lovely updo. I pointedly didn’t talk much as they applied my makeup. At some point while my makeup was being done, Mr. Fraser showed up. He sat on the couch while they completed my look in the kitchen. Once they were gone, all that was left was putting on my dress.

I’d chosen a dress that really stood out to me. It wasn’t the biggest or fanciest dress, but it fit what I was looking for. It was a long, bright red dress covered in intricate beading. The straps looped behind my neck as the neckline dipped slightly. Putting it on, I studied myself in the mirror. With my hair and makeup professionally done and then with the dress on, I didn’t think I looked much like myself. I wondered if my actors thought this everyday before they went on stage.

Shrugging to myself, I decided I would do. I grabbed my clutch off the bed and walked out into the living room where Brian was waiting for me. A look of awe covered his face as he took me in. “Oh, Claire, ye look just gorgeous.”

I blushed, looking down at my feet. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Jamie’s going to have to be using all his best acting skills to pretend he’s unaffected by how beautiful ye look,” he added.

Laughing, I walked toward the door. “Well, I guess we’ll see if he deserves that Tony after all.”

The red carpet was already fairly packed when our car pulled up. My door was opened for me and Brian ran around, sticking his arm out for me. “Ready?” he asked. I grinned and looped my arm through his. I’d been texting Jamie on the way to see if he had beaten us there. Apparently Ellen had taken a long time to get ready and they were running a bit behind. He’d still make the red carpet though. I told him he had to.

I walked along — Brian right behind me — and stopped for pictures when asked. I was pulled aside for interviews and comments when people recognized who I was. The directors weren’t usually the ones that people clamored for interviews with, but there were at least a few that stopped me. I didn’t want to go inside without Jamie so I stalled as I made my way down the carpet.

Thankfully, I ran into plenty of people I knew. That was how it was at award shows. I’d managed to see all of my fellow directorial nominees. John flagged me down at a certain point and we took some time to complement each other’s appearances. We looked far nicer than we did when we were deep into scripts at the office.

“John, this is Jamie’s dad, Brian,” I introduced. “Brian, this is one of our producers, John.”

The two men shook hands with a shared smile. “Pleasure to meet ye,” Brian said.

“And you.” John then turned to me. “Your date is Jamie’s dad?”

I shrugged. “It’s not like I could bring his son as my date,” I commented. Brian shot me a concerned look. “John knows the truth. He’s about the only one.” I felt my clutch vibrate in my hand. Ripping it open, I grabbed my phone and was relieved to see a text from Jamie. “He just pulled up. He’ll be walking the red carpet now,” I told Brian. He nodded in reply.

We stayed mostly where we were, waiting for Jamie to get to us. I should have known it would take him far longer to get to us than it took for us to get down the carpet. He was the new name, the first time nominee for his first show. Every journalist covering the Tony Awards was going to want to talk to him. As we waited, I talked with a few more friends. Louise went by and we admired each other’s dresses, confided in which alcohol was currently getting us through the gauntlet that was the red carpet. Eventually, she also wandered on and, finally, I saw Jamie’s red hair before I saw the rest of him.

I let Brian flag them down and Jamie grinned brightly at the sight of us. He grabbed his mother’s hand and made a beeline to where we were standing. It was then that I realized that Jamie had seen my dress, but I hadn’t had a clue what Jamie was wearing. I took in the crisp, white shirt with the black bowtie, the black tux jacket, and his green plaid kilt. I stared at him, a bit in awe. I’d never seen him in a kilt before. It was quite the sight. He grinned as he walked over to me and his father. I felt myself blush a little, even after all these months, as his eyes roved over me.

He stepped right up to me, wrapping me in a seemingly platonic hug. “This was a stupid idea,” he whispered in my ear.

My brow furrowed as I looked at him when we pulled back. “Why?”

“It was a stupid idea to get ready separately. I feel I canna stop staring at ye. Looking at how beautiful ye are.”

I glanced down, trying to hide my smile. Not from him, but from other prying eyes. “You might be right. I haven’t ever seen you in a kilt before. You didn’t mention you’d be wearing that.”

Jamie shrugged, looking around at all the photographers. We were keeping a careful distance from each other. “Well, I figured Peter and I are both Scottish. Might as well lean into it.”

“It was a good idea,” I offered. “You look very dashing.”

It was Jamie’s turn to blush a bit. He smiled at me, clearly wanting to wrap an arm around me. I felt the same way. “Well, thank ye, Miss Beauchamp,” he said pointedly.

I cleared my throat, turning to Ellen. “You look so wonderful,” I told her.

“Not nearly as wonderful as ye look,” she replied. We were all showering each other in compliments.

After standing there for long enough, we slowly made our way inside. I was glad that since I brought Jamie’s dad, I had a reason to stay close to Jamie. He spoke lowly from just behind me. “No’ being able to be myself around ye is a great distraction, ye ken?”

I laughed softly, looking over my shoulder at him. “Oh?”

“I havena thought about the awards once, just that I want to be able to even just touch ye,” he whispered.

“I know how you feel,” I confessed.

As we got close to the door, Brian stuck out his arm for me to take. I grinned at him and looped my arm through his. We walked inside the theater and eventually toward our seats. They grouped us all close together, but the nominees were always on the ends. Jamie was on the end seat just behind me. He leaned forward as I settled myself in my seat.

I felt his breath on my ear before he spoke. “I’ve never felt jealous of my father before,” he said, laughing slightly. “This is a verra odd night.”

Turning around, I shot him a look. “Don’t worry, the show will start and it’ll all leave your mind,” I promised him. He gave me an unsure look, but sat back in his seat.

Sure enough, the show started and it did prove a good distraction. During commercials, we chatted with Jamie’s castmates and it seemed easier. Musical numbers being performed up on stage were entertaining. When the awards started getting handed out, it turned our attention back to our nerves. And oddly enough, I was thankful for that.

I saw presenters walk out, knowing the category that was coming next. Jamie leaned forward needlessly. “It’s yer category,” he reminded me. I only nodded in reply. Joe and Louise had both won. We’d picked up the Tony for Costume Design and Light Design as well. So far, we were doing pretty well. I’d noticed enough in my time watching the Tony Awards that usually, awards were given to mostly one show. But I didn’t want to count on it. Just like with nominations, I had been more focused on Jamie’s award than mine. After seeing Frank, I really wanted to win again. Two voices were at war in my head: the one saying it was an honor just to be nominated and the one saying I deserved this. A strong knot was forming in my stomach as they started reading out the name of the nominees.

I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care echoed through my head on command as they (slowly) opened the envelope.

“And the Tony goes to…”

Brian reached over and grabbed my hand in anticipation. Did all their pauses seem this long? I was losing the concept of time. The silence stretched on for eternity.

“Claire Beauchamp!”

I audibly gasped, sitting there for a moment, completely stunned. Brian’s hand was squeezing mine tightly. I felt hands grabbing my shoulders and realized they must be Jamie’s. I glanced back at him in shock and he looked elated. Leaning forward, he whispered in my ear, though I could barely hear him. “Ye did it, mo nighean donn.” I nodded slightly, still processing what he said.

Standing up, I felt a bit shaky as I walked down the aisle and up on the stage. The whole time, I tried to remind myself that I’d done this all before. But somehow, this seemed more unreal. I’d been so focused on Jamie getting nominated and then winning, I’d barely thought about myself.

It was all a blur. I walked up the stairs and onto the stage, I was handed an award, and I stood in front of the mic. Looking out into the audience, I saw a sea of my community, some I loved and some I respected, and also some I loathed. And yet, I was standing before them, expected to make a speech. I wasn’t quite sure what I was saying. I know I made sure to thank John. I thanked the cast. I mentioned the crew as well. I hoped I hit all the right notes because I was so shocked, I wasn’t processing much.

As I walked off the stage with a final wave to the crowd, I saw Jamie stand up, clapping for me. I smiled to him, unsure if he could see it. The gauntlet of interviewers and other people I had to talk to before I could get back to my seat was ridiculous. All I wanted to do was go back to my people and share a small moment.

By the time I returned to my seat, Tony Award in hand, it was almost Jamie’s category. I squeezed his shoulder as I walked back, giving him a small wink. He still looked so happy for me. His parents fawned over me some — as much as parents of one of my cast members really could. Our little group was celebrating another win for the show when it came back from commercial and it was up to Best Actor in a Play.

I glanced back at Jamie but he shook his head. Despite everything, he was still so sure he wouldn’t win. Even when I’d been unsure about my own win, I knew he would. The presenters walked to the microphone and began to read the names of the nominees. I could hear Ellen whispering to Jamie, but I couldn’t tell what she said. Brian turned around in his seat and reached his hand for Jamie. It took everything in me not to do the same thing.

Yet another eternity filled silence followed before they finally called out the winner.

“Jamie Fraser!”

Everyone from our show turned to Jamie, all of us over the moon for his win for his first show. He looked completely stunned. It apparently didn’t matter how many of us assured him he’d win, he really hadn’t believed us. I was clapping so hard for him, urging him to stand up and go get his award. Joe clapped him on the back as he finally stood.

I stood as he walked out of his row. Without even thinking, I grabbed him and kissed him quickly. It took both of us a moment to realize what I’d done. Both our eyes went a bit wide. I shrugged and sent him off to the stage. He looked like he was in as much of a daze as I’d been just a while ago.

Jamie stood up on the stage in front of the mic, holding the Tony Award in his hand, and tears started falling from my eyes. I couldn’t contain my pride.

He shook his head as he started to talk. “Wow, I truly canna believe this.” His hand dug into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I didna think this would happen. My girlfriend insisted that I write a speech so I wouldna look like a fool if I did end up here.” His scottish accent was coming out so strongly as he was nervous. Brian looked over at Jamie’s mention of me. I flashed him a grin.

“This is the highest honor,” he started reading from the speech he’d thrown together at my insistence. “I scraped and fought to get even just an audition for this show, to be in the same room as people I’d admired for a long time. And somehow, I was able to not only get the audition, but the part. All of production, I was so sure I’d be recast. So to be standing here, it truly boggles the mind.”

I could hear Ellen sniffle. Rifling through my clutch, I found a spare tissue and handed it back to her before I refocused on Jamie.

“I have so many people I’d like to thank. I’d like to thank Claire, our wonderful director, and John and Marilyn for all taking a chance on a no name to lead yer show. I’d like to thank my fellow cast members, particularly Joe and Louise for answering all my questions and really guiding me through my first show on Broadway.”

I was beaming the whole time he spoke, resting my hand over my heart when I heard my name.

“I also want to thank my family for supporting my crazy dreams and never telling me to try something more practical.” He paused for just a second, masking it by clearing his throat. But his eyes somehow found me in the audience and stayed there. “And there’s one more person I have to thank. The person who has been my rock through this wild change in my life.”

Another pause. A slight raise of the eyebrow as he looked at me. Keeping our relationship a secret had led to a strong ability for us to read each other’s expressions and know what the other was saying or asking. And in this moment, I knew what he was asking. Permission. I nodded immediately.

“The love of my life, Claire,” he said, with a nod at me. The tears continued to stream down my cheeks. I felt Brian’s hand grab my arm. “Thank you all for this honor. I canna say thank you enough.” Raising his award slightly higher, he nodded and walked off the stage.

Jamie was barely off the stage when the questions started. Joe and Louise were at my side immediately. “I’m sorry, what did he say?” Joe asked.

I shot a look at Brian before turning to my friends. “What’s your question?”

“Have you and Jamie been dating?” Louise demanded.

There was no point in lying about it anymore. I’d kissed him and he’d called me the love of his life. All our efforts to keep our relationship a secret were over. I took a deep breath, finally being able to talk about it. “Umm...yes.”

“What?” Louise screeched. “When? How? But also, when?”

“Yeah, you said that,” I reminded her.

“Well you haven’t answered her yet,” Joe defended.

I pointed to the stage where the next set of presenters were coming out. “You should go back to your seats. We don’t want our show to look bad.” They rolled their eyes at me. Joe went right back to his seat.

Louise took a bit longer. “We’re not done discussing this.”

“I’m sure not,” I replied, craning my head back to her.

More awards were announced as we waited for Jamie to return to his seat. Brian stood from his seat and wound around to sit where Jamie had been sitting. “Well, now that the two of ye have rather made things public, I figure ye can sit together, no?” I shrugged. I didn’t see why we couldn’t do so.

When Jamie returned, he paused for a second, seeing his dad in his chair. Both his parents pointed to the seat next to me. Same as me, he shrugged and walked to his seat. I was thankful for Brian’s short game of musical chairs. When Jamie sat down, I immediately grabbed his hand and laced my fingers with his. “Congratulations,” I whispered to him. He smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You bloody won.”

“So did ye,” he reminded me. I rolled my eyes at him. “Ye’re no’ mad at me, are ye?”

I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he could possibly mean. “Why would I be?”

“What I said?” he asked, looking a bit nervous.

Bursting out laughing, I shook my head. “God, no. I mean, I was the one who kissed you in front of the cameras for crying out loud. No, I promise I’m not mad. After all, we said after the Tony Awards, right? I suppose at the Tony Awards works just as well.”

He grinned, leaning forward to kiss me quickly. Both of us seemed to feel relieved to be able to show at least a little affection again. It would be odd getting used to doing so in public, but I would be happy to get used to it.

The last award that our show was up for was finally approaching. I wasn’t as nervous as I’d been for any other award. I supposed it had to do with so many other things going right that night. When our show was called as the winner, it just felt like the cherry on top. I saw the absolute joy in Jamie’s eyes and he jumped up, wrapping me in a big hug.

I started the walk to the stage, most of the cast and John behind me. When I reached down to gather my skirt in my hands, I felt a familiar hand hold my elbow. Glancing back, I saw Jamie smiling brightly as he talked to Joe on our way up the stairs. He didn’t even seem to know what he was doing. It was just instinctual for him to help me. I took the Tony from the presenter and stood at the mic, gesturing for John to join me. Of the producers, he’d been the only one to come to the awards show. No one else was my producing partner. Just John.

Together, John and I thanked all the people we needed to, including the cast behind us. I looked back at them and saw the glee on each one of their faces. As John spoke, I reflected on production �� the times I’d been too hard on them, the times I felt like I wasn’t doing my best, the times that things felt like they were really flowing. I thought back on all of it and how somehow it had gotten us all up on the Tony stage, accepting individual and collective awards. I felt a bit vindicated in that moment.

The music started to play and we were ushered off the stage, celebrating as a group for the first real moment. John held the Tony out for the group that had formed a circle around him. In a hushed voice, he said, “We did it!” We all cheered softly, noting not to be too loud.

Without even meaning to, Jamie and I had congregated next to each other. His arm was automatically around my waist. I was so used to it, I didn’t even realize, until I saw Louise notice it. There was a delay for us to go to the press room and so Louise had her moment to interrogate us.

She turned on us, waggling a finger between me and Jamie. “I speak on behalf of the entire cast,” she said. “How long has this been going on?”

Jamie and I looked at each other, trying our best to suppress our smiles. “Um, Opening Night,” I confessed.

Multiple jaws dropped open. “You’re kidding me!” Joe replied. “You have been together for nine months? Without telling any of us?”

“Well that’s not completely true,” I admitted. “Jamie told John.”

“That’s not completely true,” Jamie argued. “John called me and heard Claire in the background and I just didn’t lie when he asked me.”

Our friends laughed at us, shaking their heads. Joe threw his arm around Laoghaire’s shoulders, a wide smile on his face. “Well we’re all happy for you. Disappointed you didn’t feel like telling us, but happy for you guys. Aren’t we?” He looked over at Laoghaire. She plastered on a fake smile and nodded. Looking back at me, Joe winked. He knew what he was doing.

“We are happy for you,” Louise agreed. “But why all the secrecy? Did you think we wouldn’t be happy for you?”

“It wasn’t that,” I promised her. “No, we just didn’t want anyone to think anything indecent was going on.” Jamie nodded next to me. “Believe me, it would have been easier to just tell you. We were just trying to be cautious.”

“Perhaps more cautious than we needed to be, but still. Once we’d kept the secret for such a long time, it was hard to think of a way to stop keeping it,” Jamie told them.

“It was probably pretty sexy keeping it all a secret too, wasn’t it?” Louise asked, waggling her brows. I swear, I saw Laoghaire lose some color in her face.

“Good Lord, Louise,” I replied.

She winked at me, walking over and throwing her arm around my shoulder. Whispering just to me, she said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Thankfully, we were ushered into talk to the press and the conversation around me and Jamie was tabled for the time being.

After the show ended, we went to the after party. It was the first event Jamie and I had gone to as a couple and I was reveling in it. My hand was in his as we walked in, as we talked to others, as we danced. It was great to finally be able to claim him as my own to the public. My whole body felt relaxed. I could tell that he seemed to be pretty relaxed as well.

When Jamie and I sat down at a table in the corner, Louise, John, and Joe followed us. The five of us sat talking and sure enough, the conversation turned back to me and Jamie. We answered the questions we wanted to and ignored the ones we didn’t.

“So seriously, how did this happen,” Louise asked. “I’m just so surprised by it. Not that I don’t think you guys would work well together, just that you kept it a secret for so long. And that I didn’t see it coming.”

I leaned forward, the others following my lead. “Okay, John already knows this and I trust you and Joe.” Louise nodded excitedly. “And besides, the entire theater community just deemed Jamie a good actor, so I don’t have to worry about this as much.” I looked to Jamie, making sure he was alright with me telling the real story of how we got together. He shrugged and nodded to me. “Okay, so one night I went out to a bar and met Jamie. We used fake names and spent the night together. Then, the next day he auditioned for the show.”

Louise laughed so loudly I felt the need to lean away from her. “Shut up!” Jamie confirmed the story. “You cast your one night stand in your show?”

“Well, it wasn’t just my choice,” I assured her. “If I’d been the only one who thought he was a good actor and John and Marilyn had insisted on someone else, I probably wouldn’t have fought it. But they wanted him too.”

“And clearly he was good,” John reminded her. Jamie made an uncomfortable noise. “Man, you have the bloody Tony to prove it. You’re a good actor. Stop acting weird when we compliment you.” Joe laughed, clapping Jamie on the back.

“Wow,” Louise said, holding the word out. “That’s crazy. How did you two just act so casual around each other?”

I looked at Jamie, remembering how I’d felt drawn to him, how I’d gravitated toward him even when I knew I shouldn’t. I thought back on how I avoided him when my feelings became too much. Perhaps I was a better actor than I thought I was if even Louise had no idea anything had gone on between us. “I don’t know,” I replied. “We just usually tried to pretend it didn’t happen.”

We sat there for a moment, taking sips of our drinks or thinking back on production. Suddenly, Joe burst out in a loud laugh. “I’m sorry, I just keep thinking of how many fucking times Laoghaire has asked you out in the last nine months. And the whole time you were secretly with Claire,” he said, laughing at Jamie’s expense.

“Well hell, it’s been more than the last nine months. It was all throughout production too. She constantly tried to find reasons to get him to go out with her. Girl could not take a hint,” Louise recalled. She looked over at me with a concerned glance. “Maybe you should lay low for a while, Claire. Now that Jamie’s girlfriend officially has a name, she may put a hit out on you.”

I laughed and shook my head, leaning into Jamie’s side. “She doesn’t scare me,” I said. Nothing really did so long as I was with Jamie.

When we walked in the door of our home, it felt like nothing had really changed. But everything had, for both of us and for our relationship. I sat my clutch and my new Tony down on the island. I could feel Jamie behind me. His arm reached past me to put his award down too. Before I could turn around to him, I felt his lips against my shoulder. Slowly, he unhooked the straps where they were fixed at my neck before kissing where they’d been sitting. My hand came up behind me and held onto his head. His arms came around me, roaming up and down my stomach and my sides.

I needed more. Turning in his arms, I crushed my mouth to his. My hands were in his hair and my body was flat against his. As they were wont to do, his hands found their way to my arse, kneading. I felt a moan escape me just before his tongue met mine. It was one of those times when I was fairly certain we wouldn’t make it to our bed. My desperation for him came on suddenly and was surely powerful.

Without breaking away from him, I slid his jacket off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it, throwing it to the floor. Jamie broke away from me, moving to my neck again. As he kissed a trail, I worked at undoing his tie. We were still essentially in our entryway and neither of us seemed to care. Once the tie was off, I was working diligently at the buttons on his shirt. It took me some time as Jamie started sucking near my pulse point. When all the buttons were undone, I threw the shirt off him as fast as I could. His hands moved up to the top of the zipper on my dress.

“This isna yers, right?” he asked, panting.

“Right. Don’t tear it.” I felt his huff against my shoulder and couldn’t help but laugh. Kissing a path back to his ear, I whispered to him, “It’s fine if the undergarments get ripped.” His eyes were dark as they met mine, a grin forming on both of our faces.

He quickly got the zipper down and pushed it down my hips. I stepped out of the dress, kicking it to the side. Jamie pulled me back in for a long, deep kiss. My hands were all over him, unable to stay in one place. I started walking backwards, thinking maybe we could make it to the couch. Jamie reached down to remove his kilt, but I stopped his hands.

“Leave it on.”

He raised one brow to me and I nodded slowly. Stepping toward me again, he tripped, toppling toward me and making both of us crash to the floor. After a moment of shock at his large body pinning me suddenly, I didn’t really mind.

“Christ, are ye alright, Claire?” He propped himself up over me, running one hand down the side of my face softly.

I laughed loudly, wrapping one arm around his neck. “I’m fine. I may hurt tomorrow, but right now I really don’t care. Come here.”

He looked skeptical til I pulled him closer with the arm around his neck. Once I was kissing him again, he didn’t seem to mind either. Jamie lowered himself against me, kissing me fiercely. My legs wrapped around his hips, feeling the need to move things forward. I lifted my hips against his and bit his lip. Pulling back, he shot me a look full of question and desire. I nodded to him. Surging up, I kissed him again roughly.

His hand drifted down, finding my center, finding how ready I truly was. I couldn’t stop the moan that ripped out of me as he deftly used his fingers. It wasn’t what I wanted, though. “Jamie,” I whined, reaching for him.

Finally taking my hint, he moved his kilt out of the way and pushed inside me. I cried out at the feeling, clutching to him. He leaned over me, leaning down to kiss me slowly as he started moving within me. We moved together, slowly at first as the fire built between us, and we rocked frantically against each other. My hands were clawing at his back as his mouth attached to my neck. We’d both be sore tomorrow, especially from the crash to the floor. At the moment, neither of us had enough room in our minds to care about that. All I needed was him and vice versa.

I felt myself getting closer and closer to the edge, the wave readying to crash over me. Jamie was slowing down and I nearly screamed. His hands and his mouth moved slowly, worshipping my body with his attention. I grabbed his face between my hands, urging him to keep going. That was my mistake. Now it was a game to him, torturing me when I was so close to release. He pressed reverent kisses to my collarbone, my neck, my cheeks, moving in gentle thrusts within me.

Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I reached down to the place of our joining. Jamie grabbed my hand and pinned it to the floor next to my head with a devious glint in his eye and a hard thrust. I groaned in reply. My ankles were at his lower back, trying my best to urge him in the way I needed. We’d been so desperate for each other, and suddenly he was dragging it out, torturing me in the best way.

“Jamie,” I cried. “For the love of God.”

He breathed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to my lips. Listening to my pleas, he picked up his earlier pace, hitting deep within me. I cried out again, for a different reason. I held onto him as he thrust over and over, bringing me right back to the edge. His hand found my center, sending shockwaves through my body. My release hit me, making my entire body tighten around him. He moved erratically, finding his release within me and promptly collapsing back on top of me.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” I agreed, patting his shoulder lazily.

He pressed a soft kiss to my nose before rolling off me. We laid together on the floor, trying to regain our energy. I moved onto my side, kissing his shoulder before his arm moved and tucked me into him. We were close enough that I reached out and yanked at the corner of a blanket that sat on the arm of the couch. I spread it out over us, deciding that we weren’t moving for a bit.

As we laid there, we talked about the evening, the surprising highs of the awards show — other than our wins. Without much warning, I jumped up, moving out from under the blanket. I grabbed our two new awards and marched toward the bookshelf where my Tony from years ago resided. I moved it up to a different shelf before putting ours side by side on the original shelf.

I stood back and smiled as I looked at it. Jamie stood up as well, walking over to me. He stood behind me, wrapping both the blanket and his arms around me. I held onto his arms, not moving my eyes from the sight before me. “I know it’s not all about the awards,” I said, breaking the silence between us, “but that’s a damn good sight.”

He pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I have to agree wi’ ye. I wanted so badly no’ to care, but it feels verra good right about now.”

I looked at him over my shoulder. “I told you so.”

“Hmm?”

“That first morning we had here, you stood in this very spot and looked at my Tony. I told you that you should get used to the weight of it. You doubted me, but I told you so,” I reminded him, giving him a look.

He shook his head at me, a grin forming on his face. “If I recall correctly, I said I’d rather get used to the weight of ye in my arms.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you did.”

Jamie bent down, picking my feet out from under me and taking me in his arms. “I’d say that’s come more in handy than holding that one trophy tonight.”

“Oh yeah?”

He shifted on his heels, bouncing me in his arms. I screamed slightly, clinging to him. Jamie laughed, walking off toward our room. He tossed me down on the bed and crawled over me. “Aye, I’d say it’s still the better option.”

I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face as I shook my head at him. “Come here,” I commanded, pulling him down to me. It was a good thing John and I had agreed not to work tomorrow. Jamie and I had a long night of celebrating ahead of us.

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #my writing #all the shine of a thousand spotlights

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themusicplayedherlife · 5 years ago

Text

Some Sugar

Part 3: you think you can open my heart?

pairing: sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader characters: reader, steve rogers, cassandra jones (oc), selena (oc), others word count: 3k+ warnings: angst, family issues, money problems, cursing, talks of sex summary: family can be pretty wild a/n: sorry this took so long, but shit happened--from car accidents to quarantine to a lack of motivation, and it was just really hard to write anything. I tried, but it was all shitty. Couldn’t even bring myself to finish this chapter, but I managed it, until I realized that part of this chapter wouldn’t fit in to this anymore and needed to be pushed back -insert grimacing emoji- so really this chapter could’ve been posted weeks ago lmfao IM SORRY

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Quiet hums reach your ear as you stare at your phone’s screen, the large sum of money with too many zeroes staring back at you. It hasn’t even been a week yet and you’ve already received your first allowance—first.

You throw yourself back onto your twin sized bed and the spring mattress squeaks horribly under your weight; you ignore it as your mind drifts to your conversation with Steve a couple of nights ago, your phone still in your hands and resting on your stomach.

“Even if you have a month left, it’s best to pay off the debt now.” As much as you wanted to pay attention to his blabbering, you were a little busy trying to keep your mind from how fast he was driving.

He had started off slow, or as slow as the speed limit allowed, really, until he got wrapped up in your story about your mom’s cancer returning, your sister’s self sacrificing nature (“She takes after you then,” he said with a grin), and your aunt and her subtle threats that were no longer so subtle.

Left hand gripped the seat tightly while your right hand clutched the handle on the roof. Your feet occasionally slammed down on the floor, braking whenever you felt Steve was going too fast for your liking. Wasn’t Captain America all about doing the right thing and following the law? Being safe? Honestly! He was lucky the streets were empty and there weren’t any cops in sight. You could have laughed at the imaginary headline: Captain America and His Sugar Baby Pulled Over For Driving too Fast. “Right,” is all you managed to say.

“I can probably wire you the money tomorrow and then some,” he said, completely oblivious to your dilemma. You didn’t—and still don’t—know whether that was a good or bad thing. “We should probably figure out how allowance is going to work first, though—hey, are you okay?”

You ripped your gaze from the blur of the world outside, eyes a little wide to find Steve alternating between looking at you and the road. “Can you—can you maybe ease up on the gas a little?”

He blinked, eyes falling to his dashboard and soon the world started blurring less and your body was no longer trying to fight against gravity. You exhaled and let go of the leather seat that you’re sure you’ve scratched up, and he chuckled. “Bad habit,” he admits. “More used to my motorcycle than a car.” Right. Captain America rode a motorcycle.

You leaned back into the seat and your head rolled against the headrest to look at him. “That’d explain it.”

He chuckled, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” It’s sarcastic, and you almost feared he’d be mad but he only chuckled in response, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. Huh.

“So, allowance?”

Allowance. Right. That’s a thing. Allow-ance. Why is that such a weird word to you now? “I trust you.” (Selena had advised you a base price of 2,000 per meeting, but you thought—like most of her suggestions—it was ridiculous. “Give yourself some credit,” she had said when you scolded her.) “Whatever you think is right, I’ll accept.”

For a moment he mirrored your frown, until he nodded resolutely and smiled. “I’ll handle it.”

And handle it he did. Not that you’re surprised that Avengers make bank because c’mon they’re heroes! You just didn’t think they’d make that much bank to spare this much money! Tony Stark? Sure. He owned a damn company—or was on the board, you don’t know anymore. But the rest? Not so much.

A familiar ring from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts and you don’t even bother checking who it is, you just accept the call.

“Mornin’,” Steve’s voice greets you, a smile very much apparent in his voice and your heart does a flip. “I’m downstairs.”

You sit up hastily and in your hurry you almost fall off, eyes darting to the closed bathroom where Esmeralda is showering. “What?” Didn’t he say you were meeting at noon for lunch?

“My meeting got pushed back to this evening, and since you asked for the day off from the restaurant, I thought we’d make the most of the morning.”

“I’ll be down in a moment.” You pause when the doorbell rings. “Please tell me you’re not at my door right now.”

“No, but that might be Peter Parker.” How does he know—Shit. Right. He mentioned knowing the kid from his internship after you told him about your sister. “Just saw him enter the building with his friends.”

“Did he see you?” You really hope not.

“I don’t think so. If he had, the kid would’ve said something.”

You let out a relieved sigh and open the door just as you hear Ned say: “I swear that was Captain America downstairs!”

“What?” He said they didn’t see him!

“Morning,” Peter greets you as MJ rolls her eyes at Ned’s comment.

“I didn’t see anyone,” she says pointedly at him, before greeting you and smiling when you let them in.

You dumbly stare after them.

“It was him!” Ned insists, making a beeline towards the window facing the street and dragging Peter along with him.

MJ turns to you as she moves around the half wall separating the kitchen from the living room, not surprising. “Mind if I grab something to eat?”

“Sure?” You still don’t know why she bothers asking.

“The windows are tinted, Ned,” Peter hisses. “I can’t see.”

“You got Greek yogurt? Oh. You do. Cool.”

Ned frowns and scratches his head, murmuring, “I swear it was him.”

You sigh, and drop your hand holding your phone without ending the call. “Can you tell Esme I got called into work?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, turning away from the window. “Sure!”

“And tell her to shoot me a text before you guys leave for school.” Peter nods, not really paying attention to you as he joins Michelle in the kitchen, already knowing the drill. “No dirty dishes in the sink.”

The last thing you see is MJ flashing you a thumbs up before you close the door behind you.

As you make your way towards the stairs, you lift your phone back to your ear. “Didn’t see you, huh?”

“I may have poked my head out of the window to say hi to the kid, until I heard them mention you and your sister.”

“Yeah. He usually picks her up, doesn’t like Esmeralda going to and from school alone,” you explain as you search around the street. With a sigh you immediately spot him. “Can’t you drive a least expensive car? You stick out like a sore thumb.”

He chuckles and you hear movement before seeing the driver door about to open. “I could always drive my motor—“

“No, no, no!” You rush towards him. “Do not get out of the car.”

“But—“

“Ned was looking out the window when I left,” you say, your eyes moving to the windows of your apartment, but thankfully don’t see him. “He still might be.”

He sighs, but obliges, the door closing.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you hang up the phone and open the door.

“They're bound to find out,” he says, raising an eyebrow in your direction as you buckle yourself in.

You know, and you tell him as much, “I don’t know how to exactly explain this—“you motion to him and you—“yet.”

He frowns, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he pulls away from the curb. “We’ll figure it out.”

He takes you to a small restaurant in Brooklyn. Light blue walls and leather seats with white and golden lights—it’s retro, super retro, but cozy. Steve keeps his sunglasses on and the bill of his hat low. It’s ridiculous if he thinks this is really a disguise that works.

The curious host leads you to a table in the back, away from prying eyes—hopefully—after you ask for a booth. He settles into the leather facing the door and you opposite of him, large painting being the only thing you have sight of other than Steve, and yourself if you turn to your left and stare at the mirror covering a third of the wall.

She hands you both menus and leaves after you take a quick scan of the drink menu.

“How effective do you think the sunglasses and hat are?”

“It’s covert,” he defends, playful offense in his voice.

You lean on your crossed arms resting on the table. “You’re literally wearing sunglasses indoors, Steve. That’s weird. And bound to attract attention.”

“Tony does it all the time.” Is he whining?

You snort, staring into the dark lenses, imagining where his eyes are. “Yeah, because he’s the Tony Stark.” He scoffs and you shrug. “He can do things like that and get away with it. Not like he’s actively trying to hide himself either.”

“Okay, I get it. It’s a little ridiculous.”

You grin, amused at the small pout forming on his pink lips. Who knew Captain America was a sulker. It’s cute.

Your assigned waitress comes by and takes your order after placing down your drinks that the hostess marked down for you both. You choose something light—a pesto caprese sandwich—compared to the hearty breakfast Steve orders for himself—a loaded omelet, heavy on the cheese. You smile up at the waitress, but you find that her eyes, although listening to you, are trained on Steve. He seems to notice, too, because he smiles politely before gesturing to you with a small incline of his head.

“How about we share a side of tater tots, sweetheart?”

You blink lazily at the nickname just as the waitress drops her gaze to you as if finally remembering that your voice belongs to an actual body. There’s a tingle that curves down your spine and you know he’s staring at you behind his dark glasses. His shoe nudges yours and his lips curl into a lopsided smirk.

You recline your cheek against your perched arm and tilt your head further into your palm with a smile. “Anything you want, baby,” you coo and Steve lifts a playful brow in question, your smile only growing wider when he nudges your shoe again.

The waitress squirms and mutters something before scurrying away.

“Baby?”

Sweetheart? you want to shoot back, but instead you remain neutral, reaching for your drink with your free hand. “Better than calling you daddy.”

He straightens, visible skin turning red and you stifle a laugh as he shuffles in his seat. “I—“ You don’t break eye contact, if his eyes are following yours, as you wrap your lips around the paper straw and suck the sweet orange juice to coat your tongue. “You can call me anything you want, sweetheart.”

Interesting. “Even Stevie?”

“Anything,” he reiterates, leaning back into the seat to rest his arm over the backrest and you smile. “As long as I get the same privilege.”

“It’s a deal, sugarplum.”

He snorts a laugh and you just shrug, trying to hide your smile with pursed lips.

“Tell me more about your family.”

The question cools you down, smile effectively shrinking into tight lips.

“Like?” you ask, suddenly finding the painting hanging behind his head much more interesting. It’s a simple painting of the beach, golden, warm colors contrasting with the beautiful cool shades of blue and white used for the ocean.

“You told me about your mom and sister, even Peter and his aunt, but you didn’t mention your dad—unless,” his voice turns soft, posture relaxing as if to put you at ease, “unless you don’t want to talk about him. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t be—“

“It’s okay,” you interject softly, lifting your head from your palm. “I just don’t know where to start.” He nods and removes his glasses with one hand as he reaches for one of your hands. “Um, my dad… he died in a car accident when I was 13.” You watch his fingers as they intertwine with yours, just like they did at the bar. Steve doesn’t seem like it, but he craves physical affection. Always seemingly touching you by holding your hand. Not that you mind it, it definitely comforted you, but you can’t help but wonder: why. “He was a good man. Smart. Loved us all very much. Loved technology,” you emphasized followed by a small laugh.

He’d spend hours tinkering with home appliances to try and upgrade them. You loved those moments the most, when you’d sit by him and he’d ask for a tool and you’d hand it to him. He’d tell you what he was doing, explain every step and process and what that change would do. He nurtured your mind, treated it as his equal.

He squeezes gently and you let his warmth cover you. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s okay. I’ve gotten over it.” He doesn’t mention the twitch of your fingers or the way your voice falters, he instead lets you change the subject. “I also have a brother that is 3 years older.”

Unlike your sister, you, and your dad, JC has always been more artistic, preferring to follow in your mother’s footsteps in learning how to play instruments and singing. He never understood your fascination with tinkering and creating, shunning your father’s activities when he tried to get all of you to help upgrade the television or stereo or whatever project he brought home from the lab.

He frowns at that, a little confused. You don’t blame him. You didn’t exactly mention him when you talked about Esme and your mom. “Did he move away?”

“Yep,” you pop the p, absentmindedly twirling the straw in your drink. “Moved out as soon as he turned 18. Would see him twice a year at best, but we used to hear from him often. Then after I turned 18 we never heard from him again.” And he made sure you wouldn’t be able to find him, too. Changed his number, deleted all of his social media, cut ties with his friends, and vanished. Not that you were surprised, he hated the struggle you and your family went through after dad died. You had always known he’d leave at some point.

But you stupidly held onto the hope he wouldn’t leave when you needed him most.

“Oh.” He frowns, trying to think of what to say, maybe even offer to help look for him. But what would that do? That’d just bring him back to the life he wanted to get away from.

You flex your fingers in his hold, just to readjust your grip on him and hum lowly. “It is what it is.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Sometimes,” you admit, but it somehow feels wrong when you think about the last time you spent with your brother. The hurt he caused when you woke up and he was no longer there in the morning, only a single cupcake with a candle waiting for you on the kitchen counter. “Other times I—I don’t.” His thumb caresses the edge of your palm, barely grazing your wrist and you can’t help but let the negative feelings fade with his gentle touch. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asks, soft with blue eyes staring into you. He knows you’re changing the subject, but he lets you. You don’t want to talk about JC anymore or even think about him, and it’s for the best.

“What’s your family like?” He looks at you as if you've grown another head and you flush slightly. “I meant your friends, Steve. You’re all like family, right?”

“Oh!” His eyebrows shoot up and he tenses for a moment before relaxing, smile worming its way onto his lip. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we are. They’re great. A little out there, but they’re good people.”

He tells you all about them; from Tony and Bucky and how the were able to set aside their differences when the world needed it most and how they bonded over their love of science; Natasha and Wanda and their bond as sisters, including the fact that they could most likely rule the world if they tried; Vision and Clint and their strange friendship that was born from trying different food; Sam and Sharon and their newfound relationship that everyone likes teasing; to Thor and Bruce and their bromance born from fighting in a planet a la gladiator style—all of them, telling you things you wouldn’t hear from television or read from articles with interviews. And from the way his eyes light up and his voice lightens, there's no doubt in your mind that he loves his family just as much as you love yours.

Your aunt stares at you with barely disguised distaste before unpleasant eyes move to Steve, who stands close to you still wearing his hat and sunglasses. No matter how many times you told him to stay in the car, he wouldn’t listen. “If she’s willing to send someone to threaten you, who knows what she’s capable of,” he had said, grabbing onto your hand before letting you go to get out of the car.

The check is flat on her desk, but she doesn’t move to pick it up. “How did you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

She tutts, eyes boiling with restrained anger. “I don’t want stolen money.”

That’s rich coming from her. “It’s not.”

“I suggest you take it ma’am,” Steve speaks up, breaking his silence. “And consider the debt paid.”

She tilts her head, eyes taking over Steve properly, like a huntress on the prowl. “And who exactly are you?”

“That’s none of your business,” you answer for him, moving to stand in front of him and effectively cutting her gawking. “Just sign what you need to sign and we’ll be on our way.” And we won’t have to see each other again.

She stares unblinkingly at you before wearing a strained smile. She pulls out a file from behind her and flips it open to the correct page, signing it and stamping it along with the last page before ripping it out—a receipt—and handing it to you.

You take it from her hands and scan your eyes over it—PAID. A giddiness bubbles in your stomach, but you hide it from her. “I would say it was a pleasure Magdalena, but it never is.” You turn on your heels and Steve is right behind you. “One more thing,” you pause at the door, Steve close enough to press his chest against your back. “Stay away from my family,” you warn before strutting out the door, smile curving your lips when you meet the disgruntled gaze of the man that had threatened you at your work.

He gives you a nod of acknowledgement as he makes his way into your aunt’s office.

“Say hi to Johnny for me,” she suddenly calls out just as he closes the door behind you, but it’s enough to throw you off guard. For your throat to close up and for you to stop in your tracks and for your hand to reach out for the hem of Steve’s jacket, barely caching the smirk she sends your way.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice floats to your ears, warm and soft. “What’s the matter? Who’s Johnny?”

“My brother,” you say through a breath. He couldn't have come—wouldn’t have come back. There’s no way. JC made it perfectly clear he never would. You shake your head. “She must’ve been lying. Trying to get a rise out of me.”

“It worked,” he points out obviously and you sigh as he gently pries your hand from his jacket.

You don’t want to admit it, but… “It did.”

“Come on.” He slips his fingers between yours and tugs you out of the desolate building and back out into the streets of Queens. “Let’s get out of here.”

There’s a bubbling in the pit of your stomach, heart hammering as you glance over your shoulder back at your aunt, the small relief you had felt at getting her off your back tainted by the thought of JC being back, not even Steve’s warmth can ease your worry.

But there’s no way—he wouldn't. There’s nothing left in Queens for him anymore, and there never will be.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #reader insert #steve rogers #steve rogers fiction #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfic #some suger #queue: out saving the world

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the-ghost-and-the-writer · 5 years ago

Text

The Dinozzo Charm pt 2-Ziva David X Female Reader

After the case, you take Ziva up on her dinner offer as a way to grow closer to your brother’s workmates. It couldn’t possibly be a date, could it? (AKA, the one where two wlw try to build up the courage to ask each other out on a date over the course of several dates)

I realise that I kinda changed the request a little bit, since they don’t have a proper date in this, but in my defence I forgot. And I love the idea of them dating without realising. It’s my level of dumb lesbianism, I thrive on it.

Requested

(Part 2 of 4) (Part 1)

Fandom: NCIS

Ship: Female Reader/Ziva David

Characters: Ziva David. Female Reader (Dinozzo). Anthony Dinozzo. Abby Sciuto Minor Characters: Jethro Gibbs. Timothy McGee

Word Count: 7869

Warnings: Swears, dumb wlw being dumb

You woke up to a blanket being draped over your shoulders. It was dark outside, only a small lamp near the door shining any light around the room. There was enough light to let you see your brother standing over you, smoothing the blanket out over you properly with his tie and jacket removed and his top button undone "Hey." You muttered and Tony looked to your face suddenly with a tired smile. "Hey peanut. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. Didn't want you getting cold." His hand stroked across your hair. "Did you just get in?" He nodded "Time's it?" With a deep sigh, your brother straightened up and groaned. "Really early." You sighed and nodded your understanding as you turned on the couch. "Okay, sorry. You go to bed." Tony pressed his lips to your temple when you closed your eyes again, keeping them there for a few seconds before he moved back with a soft exhale. "Night." "Ni'." You grumbled and tugged the blanket further up, curling it around your hand. In seconds, before you even heard Tony's bedroom door close, you were asleep again.

You woke up before Tony did, evidently, only a few hours later. With a grumble, you sat up and stretched yourself out from the curled up position you'd had to deal with for the couch. When you felt able to stand without falling over, you went over to the kitchen to see what you could make for breakfast. There was pretty much nothing in the fridge, in the cabinets, anywhere in Tony's kitchen, and you sighed softly. Then again, you guessed it was only to be expected since he spent most of his time at work and had little free to have a proper meal at home. This time, at least for a day or two, he had you though. So you went to your bags and dug out a simple outfit that would do, checking that Tony was fast asleep before you left to get something for the both of you so he could have breakfast at home

You found this cute little place not too far away. It was quiet, for the time being, and you were greeted with a smile as you walked in. Looking over all the options, you pouted and wondered if any of it was really Tony's style; after all, he either ate more pizza and burgers than a hungover frat boy or he downed coffee and hoped for the best. You decided to get two breakfast wraps, a few bagels, and two coffees, ordering them with a smile that was more awake than you really felt. A chime from your phone distracted you soon after, a text from one of your teammates back at New Haven. A simple 'miss you already, your desk looks so weird empty' that made you smile. Of course you'd miss your team in these months, but it wouldn't be forever and it was worth a bit of homesickness if it meant you got to spend time with your brother. You shot off a message that simultaneously teased him with an accusation that he was sweet on you while also returning the sentiment, only just managing to get the right wording and sending it off when your breakfast was ready. You took it with a smile and a sweet thank you that actually made the kid that served you light up as you paid (with a bit extra). You weren't too sure if Tony would be awake when you got back so you hurried over in order to make it a surprise that didn't start with him worrying over where you were.

He was still out cold when you came back, but it seemed that the smell of coffee and hot food made him stir out of it and you heard him grumble as you took your wrap and one of the six bagels from the bag "Food?" He called out and a laugh was pushed from you. "Yea, I got breakfast. Come get it while it's still warm." A minute or two later, Tony came out in a pair of boxers and a plain t-shirt, rubbing his eyes and trying to tame his bedhead. "Whatcha get?" You set him off towards the bag in the kitchen, where he instantly picked out the coffee and took an obnoxiously loud sip and groaned. "Wrap, bagels, coffee." "Oh, peanut, you're an angel." You smiled pointedly at him as he walked over to sit beside you with his wrap in one hand and the coffee in the other, falling sleepily against your shoulder "I'm glad you decided to come over." He sighed, a frown twitching at his lips "I've missed you." "Missed you too, Junior." You patted his head softly and then turned to kiss the top of his head "Sorry it was in the middle of a case though." Tony shrugged. "Hey, you helped. Gibbs appreciated it, definitely, and you made me look better." "Did you get any further with it?" He nodded slightly as he took a large bite from the wrap, not even bothering to cover his mouth with his hand when he spoke. "Only a bit. After Abs found the, uh, Pero..." You sighed and shook your head. "Paroxetine." He snapped his fingers and pointed to you. "That one. After she found it, we tried to find who gave him the prescription for it. Tricky shit, really, there’s a lot of smooth talking our way through things. We think we've got that guy, so we're going to talk to him today." "Who's 'we'? You and McGee?" He shook his head and washed the food down with a mouthful of coffee that was too much and spilled a few drops from the sides of his mouth like a child. "No, me and Ziva." You straightened up a bit and nodded as casually as you could. It really didn't end up being so casual at all. "Oh. Cool." That made Tony look at you with a confused frown and you ignored him "Are you close to her? In general?" "I guess." He said slowly, closely inspecting your profile as you ducked your head and traced your finger around the rim of the cup in your hand "Why?" "No reason. Just asking." You took a quick swig of the coffee, followed by a small bite of your almost-finished wrap.

Silence set over you as Tony seemed to try and read your mind with his intense gaze, until you sighed "You know, she's actually not that bad." "What do you mean?" He sat up then, properly, and stretched slightly . "Well, you made her out to be really cold. But she's actually nice." His eyes narrowed at you for a second and then he shrugged as he gave up on trying to gauge you. "She probably trusts you already then. I mean, it makes sense, since you are my sister." You nodded softly and finished up the wrap by jamming the rest of it into your mouth, crumpling the paper wrapping up and throwing it towards the small waste bin across the room. It fell in perfectly and you laughed in triumph as Tony nodded once, an impressed pout on his face “Yep, definitely my sister.” He said, almost smug about it. You grinned at him and then sat back heavily, tipping your head back to the ceiling.

It had been far too long since you'd seen your brother, and it was such a relief to be sat beside him and hear him eat his food even though it grossed you out slightly. Not that you were going to complain about it just yet though. You heard a sigh come from Tony but didn't look to the side until you felt the couch dip more as he sat back. You turned your head and looked at him, your smile falling at how sad he looked all of a sudden "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you for a while. And didn't mention you to the team." "It's fine, Junior. I understand." You moved closer and hugged him gently. He rested his head against your shoulder and wrapped his arm around your middle, like a child, his frown still deep, and the two of you stayed like that for a few seconds until you clapped him on the shoulder and sighed "Okay. Up you get. You need to get to work. Killers to catch." He groaned and slid down the couch before nodding and getting up properly. "Fine." He groaned again and put his coffee on the table in front of the two of you "Don't you be bringing anyone back here when I'm out." He called back before he went into his room to dress. "Yea, because I pull that quickly." You laughed with a roll of your eyes. You had stuff to do, which you were sure he'd prefer you'd do other than try to get some. First on your list was looking for somewhere to stay that wasn't Tony's couch, though you were sure he'd appreciate it if you kept buying him breakfast he could eat before setting off to work. You were told to sit tight for a day or two, so you could get yourself sorted, before you were able to meet your temporary team and properly get back to work. So you went to your bags and shifted through a few of them to find your laptop.

After an hour or two of searching, dotted with answering texts from your team about how the day was already going so slowly and how they all missed you, you decided to go out and get some actual food in for Tony. There wasn't much else you could think to do, since you had already arranged one viewing of an apartment and were waiting on a response from the other, and you didn't want to live off what Tony usually did for the few days you were staying with him.

Despite your jokes about his diet, the same ones you'd been recycling since he was in college but with the occasional "you eat like a frat boy" thrown in there, you knew he actually had good taste in food. Given the chance, he'd eat right. It was just his job and how borderline obsessed he was with it, the hours he'd put in and the days he'd spend without sleep because of it; he'd eat rarely and when he did it was high-fat stuff to make up for skipped meals. You were determined to make sure he'd have a decent meal today, even if he did have to microwave it if he got in late, so you decided on something simple but that you knew would make him happy. Along with his favourite tooth-rotting dessert that you would indulge in as well and a few things for the next day, you lugged the bags back to Tony’s place. It didn’t take too long to put everything away, there was plenty of room, and then you went back to your laptop to carry on the search

As it turned out, Tony was able to leave work at a reasonable time so you could actually sit and have a hot meal together on his couch, since he evidently didn’t have a dining table. He spoke a lot about nothing, like how good you were at cooking and how he almost didn’t want you to leave if you kept this up, but you could tell there was something up. He is your brother, after all “Bad day?” You asked during a lull in his babbling. He sighed and bowed his head. “Yea.” “Wanna talk about it?” “I met Kirk’s sister. One of the foster ones.” His voice was low, almost inaudible “She’s seven months pregnant, father’s nowhere to be seen. Kirk’s been helping her, with everything. And now he’s gone as well.” “It happens, all the time. Do you usually get so upset over this stuff?” “No. I…I shouldn’t. But she’s so young, and so far along.” You looked over him and shook your head softly. “There’s something else.” “I don’t think he did it. With everything she said, I don’t think he could.” “What does the evidence say?” “It doesn’t say definitely that he did it.” “But it doesn’t say definitely that he didn’t. And you’ve got to find him to prove either.”

You’d moved to a new place two days later, were introduced to your temporary new team, and managed to have enough time to unpack everything and try to make the place cozy. There had been barely enough time to spend with Tony those few days but you at least spoke to him whenever you could, never really speaking about the work either of you were doing other than it was difficult and draining.

The first you heard that the case had ended was when you got a text from Ziva maybe a week and a half after moving from Tony’s place. A simple ’This is Ziva, I was wondering if you’re still interested in meeting for dinner’ that you weren’t expecting. You thought it through for a second or two before you typed up a message that you then deleted and rewrote another three times before settling on a (hopefully chirpy) reply. Hi, Ziva. I didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon. Of course I’m still interested. I’m free this weekend if that’s okay. It still wasn’t 100% but you couldn’t think of anything else to send. The almost ten minutes that it took for her to reply almost had you picking at your nails. It was stupid to deny, to yourself at least, that you were attracted to Ziva; after everything you’d heard about her and how surprisingly nice she’d been when you met her, and how beautiful she was, there was a –slight- draw towards her. The chime of your phone almost made you jump and you had to take a breath to make sure that you didn’t instantly open the message and seem too eager. Saturday then? Is there anywhere you’d prefer to meet? Saturday is perfect. I don’t really know many places around here, so it’s your choice. It would be nice to get more accustomed to the area, as well as get closer to Tony’s friends; you’d meet up with Abby for drinks, and probably see Tim as well if you got the chance. Ziva was a good start, at least.

She’d told you where to meet, a little coffee shop not too far from your place that made you wonder how far she lived from you, and said it’d be best to meet at 5:30 since it wouldn’t be as busy. She must have gone a few times, to be so sure of the flow of people through it

You showed up early, almost fifteen minutes early in fact, and got yourself a drink as you waited. You read through emails, using the free wifi of course, and replied to a couple through sips of your drink and looking up each time the door chimed. Ziva had been right, the place wasn’t so crowded and people were arriving and leaving at closely similar rates so you weren’t worried about missing her when she came in. You’d only just finished your drink when the door again opened and Ziva walked in. She looked somehow more beautiful than when you’d last seen her and you had the urge to stand up the second you saw her, like the world was Pride and Prejudice. Despite the urge, evidently, you stayed sat and just waved when she met your gaze. She smiled as she came over and you almost cursed yourself for the flip that your heart did. For God’s sake, you thought, you hardly even knew her.

You both ordered a drink each, which didn’t take so long to arrive, and sat in silence until Ziva spoke up “I’m glad you agreed to come here.” She smiled and you let your own smile out. “Of course I agreed.” You sighed with a shrug. Ziva's smile changed, only very slightly, but it seemed to change the entire meaning of it. Slowly, you felt your cheeks start to heat and, as soon as you realised, ducked your head to your cup "I mean, I've heard a lot of great things about the team, I just want to find out how much is true." "To prove it, I'll have to know what Tony's told you." "Even forgetting the cases that you do, that you all work so much for. I mean-" You sighed again and tried to think back. He had tried to catch you up on a lot of stuff in six months, and the two years before that hadn't exactly been quiet either "-there's been a lot. He tells me about almost everything." As you looked up, Ziva looked almost worried so you quickly corrected yourself "Nothing too personal, of course. Just about when you hang out, and some of what you've talked about. There's still quite a bit I'd like to know about you." There was a beat of silence where you just looked at her, and she looked back just as unblinking, before you realised what that sentence could imply "All of you sound really cool." "Well, I'd like to know more about you as well. Like I said, I only wish Tony had told us about you sooner." "Plenty of time to make up for it." You muttered before taking a drink.

"So how was the case?" You asked, resting your elbows on the table and leaning forwards a little "I'm guessing that you got him. Kirk, I mean." "We found him, yes. But he didn't do it. He was there, where we found his blood, but he didn't do anything." Your soft confused pout and head tilt made her pause before she carried on "It was one of his friends, from training, and the Staff Sergeant tried to stop him but ended up injured. He was worried after that and went into hiding. He helped us, a lot." After a second, where you were silent and thinking it through, Ziva spoke again "Didn't Tony tell you ?" "No, he's probably taking a break while he can. I'll try to drop in soon." "You look after Tony a lot, don't you?" She asked with a smile that could almost seem fond. "I try to. He's, pretty much, the only family I have." "I thought Tony was okay with your father now." "Tony is." You nodded, your mood souring slightly "But it's okay. Just what happens." A fake smile was thrown onto your face and you sat up straighter "Anyway, none of that. We're meant to be getting to know each other." You laughed softly, shaking your head "Daddy issues come in later." It was obvious that Ziva wanted to talk more about it, but regardless she let it drop and instead nodded.

When that moment passed, you actually ended up having a regular conversation. You spoke about your team back home, and how strange it was to not be working with them for a little while, and she spoke about the MCRT and how close everyone was, the basic things you’d need to know about them all. She promised to somehow introduce you to Ducky and Palmer without taking you to the morgue, despite your assurances that dead bodies didn't gross you out that much due to your line of work, and when you mentioned maybe having drinks with Abby, she had hesitantly asked if you wouldn’t mind her tagging along. You learnt a few of her likes and hobbies, and how extensive her skillset was, and you told her yours similarly. All in all, you spoke until it was almost closing time and the two of you were pretty much the only ones left. You only noticed after a text came through and you caught a glimpse of the time.

After the two of you laughed softly at yourself for so easily losing the time, you personally left quite a tip as an apology as well as went to the woman behind the counter to apologise for staying so long. She had a strange smile on her face as she assured you it was okay and you were both welcome back any time. As you left, Ziva turned to you with an almost bashful smile “I hope I didn’t bring you too far from where you’re staying.” “No, not really. It’s closer than I thought. Walking distance, actually.” “Oh. Well, maybe I could walk you home then.” In your slight shock, you almost choked on air but managed to cover it up b clearing your throat as you nodded gently. “If it’s not too out of the way.” “It isn’t. And I’d…Like to keep talking to you.” “Um.” You said with a slightly nervous laugh, ducking your gaze away as the irrational gay side of you went a little too far “I’d like that too. Um, let’s go.”

You didn’t so much walk back as you did stroll, taking your time to find out more about her. Similarly to yourself, as you soon realised, she wasn’t very open to talking about her own father to much. “We haven’t spoken in a while.” Was all she said with a forlorn look that was so slight you almost didn’t catch it. “I’m sorry to hear that.” “It’s better that we don’t.” She explained with a shake of her had before looking to you “I thought Tony would have told you.” “He doesn’t tell me personal stuff about you. I don’t ask and, even if I did, h wouldn’t tell me because he knows it’s not his place.” “How much has Ton actually told you?” “About you?” She nodded and you took a deep breath, trying to recall some of the things as though you hadn’t paid extra attention. “He told me that you are, now ex, Mossad, and that you have more talents and abilities than he could imagine. You’re funny and kind and you actually remember a lot of the little things even if you pretend you don’t sometimes.” The almost bashful look she had made you smile “And you’re an amazing cook. “He said that?” She asked with a smile. “Yea. Apparently, everyone thinks so.” You couldn’t seem to help yourself before you said “Maybe I’ll be able to see just how true that is, before I leave.” Looking over at her almost hopefully, you found that she was already looking at you. You anxiously pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, which drew her gaze downwards for a second before she looked away suddenly. “I, uh, I suppose so. If you want to.” “Well, of course. I want to know what Tony’s been bragging about for you.” Ziva chuckled softly and nodded. “Then I hope we’ll have the time.”

She carried on walking with you, all the way to your door, and you felt almost nervous as you turned to her “I’ve not given you too far a trip, have I?” “Not at all. I’ve enjoyed today.” “So have I. You’re very good company.” Ziva’s smile to you made your heart flip and your cheeks warm, but she seemed to catch up to herself and cleared her throat almost awkwardly. “I should probably go, leave you to the rest of your day.” You wanted to say that you had nothing planned, and invite her in, but instead you just nodded. “Yea, sure. I’ll see you later then.” “I look forward to it.” When she was out of view, that’s when you went into your apartment

You got your phone out to actually answer the text from earlier. It was from a friend back home, Robin, asking how your ‘date’ had gone. With a sigh, you replied. It wasn’t a date. And it was nice, I just got back. The reply was almost instantaneous, though they should have been working. Like hell it wasn’t a date. You’ve been way too excited for today for it not to be a date. Well it wasn’t. Are you meeting up again? Probably, yea. You didn’t voice your ‘hopefully’, because that would only reinforce Robin’s idea that it was a date. And, if part of that hope was for some form of date with Ziva, you definitely weren’t going to mention it.

Your hope seemed to be rewarded, at least a bit, since not only did Ziva ask you to dinner again but she’d even accepted the two of you meeting up before work for coffee. Both of them in the following week, and both went pretty well. Neither of you spoke much about your past, though when you said the little that you did of your biological family and vaguely why you ended up adopted by the Dinozzo’s, she opened up a little about her own family; Primarily her sister and the tragic event that occurred. Rather than dwelling on either of those subjects, you both filled the silence with basic catching up as though you were old friends, or told each other tales about your respective teams or what you could of cases and occasionally ones specific to Tony.

The messages you got from Robin were highly similar; “Wow, you got a second date, good on you” “Third date and no kiss? You’re playing hard to get”. You knew they were meant well and that Robin was just playing off the highly obvious crush you had. Tony, meanwhile, was as oblivious as he always had been about your affections and rather decided to joke that you couldn’t be bothered making friends so were trying to steal his. You just make it worse, on purpose of course, by asking him to pass your number on to Abby in case she wanted to actually meet up for drinks. That got a paper ball thrown at your head but a text from Abby the next day showed that he didn’t really mind at all.

Not even two weeks later, after making plans with Abby a few times that always fell through due to work on both sides, you had a late start so decided to make a trip up to Tony with breakfast that you knew he probably had skipped. While you were waiting, you decided to get at least a coffee for everyone else just to be kind. So you set off to NCIS with five cups of coffee, a big cup of Caff-pow, and a little bag of croissants that were on sale, as well as Tony’s breakfast. Luckily for you, everyone (but Abby) was in the pen as you popped up in the lift “Peanut!” Tony exclaimed happily at seeing you, his smile widening even more at the sight of the coffee “Oh, please tell me that one of those is for me.” He groaned. “More than just that.” You trilled as you handed him his coffee, marked with a T, and his breakfast muffin. He again groaned his appreciation and blew you a kiss as you went to Ziva’s desk and put her coffee on the desk with a little smile. She mirrored it as she thanked you and took the offered croissant. Then Gibbs, you’d guessed he preferred black coffee and, judging by the small nod he gave you as you handed McGee his, you guessed right. McGee took a croissant as well, but Gibbs needed a bit more coaxing. “Look at you. The breakfast fairy.” Tony teased, which earned him a childish reply of you sticking your tongue out at him “What do you want?” “Can I not just visit when I have time, Junior?” Sighing, you leaned against Ziva’s desk since it was the closest, and crossed your arms “I wanted to just say Hey again. I mean, I know you’re probably busy but...” You shrugged softly, almost getting anxious before Ziva spoke up. “Not just yet.” You turned to see her, fiddling slightly with a pen as she looked up at you “The Director told us to ‘hang tight’, for something.” “Oh. Guess I’m lucky then.” “I’d say we’re luckier.” The way that she smiled up at you made you start to blush so you quickly turned your gaze away and ducked your head as you turned your empty cup in your hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Abby’s Caf-Pow poking out slightly from your bag and you sighed. “Would it be okay to go down and see Abby? I got her something as well.” You got a nod of confirmation from Gibbs so thanked him softly and stood “Won’t be that long.” You promised and set off to the elevator. “I’ll come with you.” Ziva said quickly, standing just as suddenly while taking up her jacket and taking a shirt from her bag “I need to give this back to her, before I forget.”

Though you’d been closer to her, such as when you were walking with her, you hadn’t been in such a confined space with her other than your car that first time but you were unconscious for most of that, so you were almost nervous as the doors closed in front of you. Thankfully, Ziva spoke up first “It was very nice of you, to bring us coffee.” “Well, I was going to bring Tony some things anyway.” You duck your head to hide your cheeks just in case they started to grow red “And I thought I’d get in everyone’s good books.” “You’re already firmly in mine.” She teases, nudging you with a soft chuckle that you echo almost nervously. “There’s no harm in making sure.” Before she can say much else, though you’re sure that she wants to with how she looks at you, the doors open and you both step out to enter Abby’s lab.

Just as the first time, Abby was listening to her music and was bopping around but this time she saw you almost instantly and perked up instantly. Turning the music down, she grinned a shining smile at you “Hi again.” She trilled and hugged you softly “What’s brought you here?” “Bringing you this.” You brandished the Caf-Pow from the bag and Abby looked at it like it was all she needed to live before taking it. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I needed this today.” She took a deep gulp instantly and groaned “I barely slept last night. You won’t want to know why.” But of course, her saying that made you more eager to know. You barely had any chance to talk before she again perked up “Oh, I was going to text you tonight; I can definitely make it for Friday night, if you can.” “I, uh…” You paused and thought it through then nodded “Yea, I should be able to.” “Finally!” Abby grinned and sighed with a shake of her head “Only took a few weeks.” “What’s on Friday night?” Ziva asked, evidently confused with her frown. “We were planning to go for some drinks.” Abby shrugged casually, and you took a second before turning to Ziva. “You could come, if you want.” Then you looked back to Abby “If that’s okay.” “Oh, of course. More the merrier, it’ll be fun.” “It could be nice, yes.” Ziva nodded just slightly “I’d like that.” “Great.” You smiled widely, almost forgetting to hide how actually excited you were to be able to spend more time with Ziva, and she gave you a soft smile herself that made your heart flutter. You almost forgot Abby was there until she broke you out of your reverie by asking Ziva why she was visiting her little lair.

Friday night came far sooner than you thought it would and, before you even realised it, you were stood in front of your bathroom mirror and doing your makeup as neatly as you could. Your hair was already on point, and your outfit was purposefully picked to be quite flattering to your form, and you were very happy with how you looked to the point that you didn’t even think of changing anything. The muttered confident words of encouragement that you gave yourself were just between you and the mirror as you checked yourself out until you had to go to the bar. You walked it there, not too far really, and you could easily get an uber or a cab back if you had to. Abby and Ziva were already waiting for you as you got there and the second that she saw you, Abby let out a ‘whoo!’ and clapped “You look amazing. I mean, you look amazing anyway but wow.” “Thank you.” You laughed nervously before looking over the two of them, turning you breathless with how they looked “You two are absolutely gorgeous.” “Charmer.” Abby teased and then forcefully looped her arm in yours to lead you into the bar with Ziva at her other side “Now, let’s have some fun, we deserve it.”

The first round was on Abby, she got to choose as well which was an experience. While you were waiting for her, you again looked over Ziva. Of course, she was beautiful, how could she ever be anything less? Her dress had only thin straps, didn’t dip any lower than to show just a slight amount of cleavage, and stopped at her knee though almost clung to her hips. And, of all things you could go goo-goo over, it was her shoulders that really got to you; her shoulders and her neck were causing you to already get flustered, thoughts of kissing her and taking your time to nuzzle against her neck and just… Evidently, she caught you staring and smiled a little, confused “Are you okay?” “Hmm?” You asked, perking up and looking at her. “Are you okay? You were…staring.” “Oh. I’m…I’m fine, I was just thinking, I didn’t even realise.” Lies. You realised, you were just too lost in your own mind to really do anything about it. But your smile seemed to sate her and she just nodded with a smile of her own "I'm glad we could do this today." "So am I. Me and Abby make plans quite a lot but we haven't had the chance to actually go out until today." "Well, for the sake of my ego I'll say I'm the reason for that." You teased, and she laughed. "I can't say you're not the reason." She muttered softly, almost inaudible under the music but you caught it and that set you off blushing again. Thankfully, in some ways, it was a hot bar so you could use that as an excuse. When Abby came back with the drinks, not even twenty seconds later, she looked between the two of you and smiled slyly as she placed the drinks down "Here we go, let's see how you deal with these." "We said nothing too crazy, Abs." "I know, and it's not. It's just...got a special something."

That special something was quite a kick of sour lemon that made you and Ziva start coughing as Abby laughed in pure glee. Certainly an icebreaker, at least, as you instantly got into a conversation about how that should not be allowed which lead to your own personal tastes, which, eventually and somehow, lead to your personal life. You mentioned your boarding school days, a few things about Tony that Ziva already knew but that she and Abby could probably tease him about in the right way, and got to know the girls a little better as well.

"How long have you been in the FBI?" Abby asked and you sighed as you thought about it. "Quite a few years now. Not as many as Tony in NCIS but...still." "What military branch were you in?" Ziva's eyes widened. "You were military?" She asked suddenly, before you could answer, and you nodded once. "Mhm. I forgot to tell you that, didn't I?" The nod that Ziva gave was almost like she was insulted "To be fair, I didn't think it was that important. Tony loves to brag about it, for some reason, but I just...it doesn't come up and I don't go out of my way to make it." A worried frown crossed your face as you looked over to Ziva "That doesn't change anything, right?" "Oh, no, of course not." The way she looked at you, however, seemed like it had changed a little "It does help explain how you're so observant though." "I had to be." You shrugged "It's a habit by now, to notice things." Abby scoffed a little, suddenly, and you looked over "What?" "Nothing, nothing. I just...remembered something that McGee said yesterday, that's all." Bullshit. You didn't mention it, just pulled a face at her that showed just how much you believed that, before going back to try another sip of the drink. Thankfully it was only small, and you did adapt to the sour taste quite quickly. When you all were finished with that round, the conversation lasted a few more minutes before Abby seemed to realise that there were no drinks so piped up that it was someone else's turn. Instinctively, you held your fist and palm out to Ziva. Of course with her being around Tony she recognised the gesture so repeated it and you did a best-of-three go of rock-paper-scissors that ended with you losing so you went to get drinks. Despite asking what they wanted, Abby insisted on 'Surprise us' as an option above all. So surprise them you did; you got a drink that you had only heard of in movies and had no idea what it really was so you'd all have an experience with it.

What you didn't expect to come back to was a whispering Ziva and Abby, who hushed the second Ziva saw you coming back with the mystery drinks. It didn't cause you that much of an anxiety, as though they were talking shit about you, and you just smiled as you placed the drinks down "We're all going to be surprised with this one, I have no idea what I got." Ziva thanked you with a laugh, but before you could even sit down Abby looked over to you with a curious pout. "Are you gay?" Luckily you hadn't started to drink, otherwise you were sure it'd be shocked out of you and through your nose. Much like it had with Ziva, who coughed out a 'fuck' as she tried to get rid of the apparently fruity liquid from her nose. "Abby." She scolded softly but you just nodded, with a pretty heavy blush. "Uh, yes. I, I am. Is it obvious?" "Not too much. I had a feeling so I thought I'd ask." "Your gaydar was pretty on point there." You joked and Abby laughed as she took a drink, suddenly humming in surprised pleasure as she got her first taste of it. "These are actually pretty good, good choice." You couldn't help but agree when you tried it yourself and, though Ziva did look a little sheepish, the conversation carried on.

After that was Ziva's turn to get the drinks, and Abby just quizzed you a little more to get to know you as much as she could. Then the cycle went once more, and about an hour and a half later it was Ziva's turn again. Abby had an almost sinister smile on her face, from the time you came back with the last round, so you were quite worried when she turned straight to you the minute that Ziva was out of earshot "So." She said. "Yea?" "You have a crush on Ziva." "What?" You asked, wide eyed instantly and heart flipping almost in fear actually. When people used to figure out your crushes, it didn't usually go that well. "It's okay, you can tell me. I mean, it's a little obvious." "Oh my god, does she know?" "Oh, no, she's clueless. She's as clueless as you." She dismissed that with a wave of her hand "You should tell her." "I...I don't know. Isn't she straight?" "Not...totally. I think. I think it's worth a shot." She said, sing-songy, and you scrunched your face up in thought. "I don't-" "-Hey, I know what I'm talking about. Just...trust me?" How could you refuse. For one, you had all of Tony's stories of her, and what you knew of her from tonight, and for two you had just enough drinks in you that you were a little more open to it than you usually would be, so you nodded. "Okay. I don't know when I could." "Tonight, silly." She elbowed you just on the right side of too hard with a smile "The sooner you do it, the sooner you can get to it." She wiggled her eyebrows and you groaned out a laugh. "Jeez, Abby." "What?" Ziva asked, smiling a little, with the drinks in hand. "Abby's just being crude." "I was nothing of the sort." She exclaimed, but her smile on her face said otherwise. Ziva seemed to understand so just nodded. "And she spends time with nuns." "Wow." You laughed, but the side-eye that Abby gave you made you hide your red cheeks around your glass.

Maybe you shouldn't have been so surprised that, after finishing that drink, Abby made her excuses to leave you and Ziva there. She also insisted that you two stay and hang out for as long as you wanted, and that she'd be fine getting home. The look she shot to you after it showed you that this was your opportunity and that she would Judge You if you didn't take it. As said before, you were probably tipsy enough to actually take it. That wasn't to mean that you wouldn't have another drink or two before that, however "Want another?" You asked. After a second, she nodded once and smiled. "I don't see why not." "Be right back." You winked before hurrying off to the bar. As you waited for the drinks, you took that time to think back; Was there a chance that Ziva liked you?

Sure she smiled a lot around you, she would bump into you as she laughed, and she'd pretty much memorised your usual coffee order as you had hers, but there wasn't anything definitive. She had shifted plans around for you and woken up early on her last day off so she could have coffee with you before you went to work, sometimes she'd fall asleep messaging you and you'd wake up to an apologetic message that she hadn't meant to just pass out on you like that. You'd gone to dinner with her more times than you expected to and each time she asked you had some sort of undertone that made your heart flip but your consciousness scold you for being way too quick to jump to conclusions. The more you thought about it, the wider your eyes got as you realised that there might be something there, that maybe the dinners were dates

You plastered on a smile as you walked back to the table, not faltering in a step despite how much time you still needed to figure your tactic out. Ziva seemed quite uncomfortable, almost conflicted, herself and your smile melted into a comforting one as you sat a little closer to her than before "You okay?" "Yes, yes, I was just thinking." "Don't hurt yourself." You chuckled with a soft nudge to her side. She smiled widely in return and then sighed, taking a mouthful of her drink as you just fiddled a little with your own glass "Ziva, I, uh, can I tell you something?" Her eyes widened in almost a fear that you instantly saw and hurried to calm down "Nothing bad. Nothing bad, I promise." Your reassuring smile made her take a breath and nod. "Sure, what is it?" "I...like you. Not like a friend, sort of in...the gay way." God, maybe you should have taken another few seconds to think this through, to be a little less '13 year old with their first crush' and more of an actual grown-up. You buried your head in your hands and groaned "Fuck, that wasn't...how I wanted to say it, can I try again?" "I like you too. The gay way." "Really?" You asked with a hopeful little laugh, eyes bright suddenly "Even after I completely ruined that?" "Even after that." She giggled, reaching out to touch your hand in comfort. The contact, however innocent, made you blush and duck your head. "Okay. Um. Good." Nodding, you stared at the table and your untouched drink in silence for a second or two before looking back up to her with a sentence in mind. When you saw her already looking at you, however, all words left your mind yet she seemed to have it covered. "I've been trying to...Ask you on a date for a while." "Oh." You chuckled, having had the same thoughts as well. Then you paused and frowned just slightly "Were...any of the dinners we had meant to be dates?" From the look on her face, almost a little enlightened, you guessed that she hadn't thought about that. "Maybe a couple." "Does that mean I can kiss you?" Ziva was quiet for a second, just looking over your face and lingering her gaze at your lips, before she breathed out her reply. "Please." Though hesitating a little, you did shift closer slightly and lean forwards to kiss her gently.

While it was quite chaste and almost as innocent as the first kiss you'd had, the way that her hand came up to the side of your neck made your heart flutter in a way that she just seemed to love doing without realising it. You didn't open your eyes for a good three seconds as you moved away, when she chuckled and tapped your jaw with her thumb. Your eyes locked with hers, glistening with her smile, and you quickly ducked your gaze away from her. Without a word, she stroked her hand under your chin and tipped your head back up to guide you into a second kiss that was a little more. "I think-" She said softly as you pulled away the little that you did "-that we should go on a proper date. Tomorrow?" "I'd love to." You smiled, bordering on a grin, as you hesitantly sat back and took up your drink.

When you woke up the next morning, not as hungover as you could have been, it took you a second to really catch yourself up mentally on what had happened with Ziva and the second that you did there was a surge of joy that scrunched your whole face up with a smile. You squealed, like an anime schoolgirl, and kicked about happily on your bed before suddenly stopping and splaying out while staring at the ceiling with a deep sigh.

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fourdaysofrain · 6 years ago

Text

A Symphony of Color

Summary: Peter wakes up with synesthesia after a fight.

(Before Infinity War, but they know Dr. Strange. What are canon timelines, anyway?)

Read on AO3

He hears a voice (cinnamon brown) cut through his ebbing and flowing state of sleep.

He frowns. (Or, at least, he thinks he does. To be honest, he isn’t sure if he’s attached to his body currently.) Brown? Weird. He’s not used to hearing that.

There’s something rubbing circles on the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger. It comes with another voice (old rose) murmuring somewhere above his head. The sound comes towards him as petals in a spring breeze. He thinks he reaches to grab them.

(Peter’s hand twitches against May’s as he lays against the stiff sheets of the hospital bed. Tony sees it from the corner of his eye as May quickly straightens against the uncomfortable hospital chair.)

“Kid, are you waking up?” someone says (cinnamon brown again), and the question zings slowly around his head like an electrical current in slow motion. The words get lost somewhere on the journey from his ears to his brain.

Something in him knows that he should pay attention to the colorful voices. They float lazily around him, fat bees leaving a dotted-line trail in their wake. The colors are an impression. When he tries to look at them directly they vanish, but if he unfocuses his eyes (an easy feat currently) they dance easily on the back of his eyelids.

The pillowcase slides against his cheek as he turns his head to the side. He might be drooling. He hears a groan. He thinks it might have been his own. He’s tired of moving his eyes to see colors. Being awake, in whatever capacity he is right now, is exhausting. There’s a pair of scissors in front of him, and they make their way to the black threads twisted together in a rope that is coming from his chest. The scissors cut through them with one great snip, and he falls blissfully backward into the inky black silence.

---

Peter deftly dodges the beam of orange light that came from the sorcerer on the other side of the rooftop as it briefly cut through the night.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish here, but I’m gonna guess it’s something bad,” he says, trying to elicit a response from the sorcerer. Nothing comes in return besides a sneer and another beam of light to avoid.

“Alright, more of a strong and silent type. I get that. We can’t all be endearingly snarky.” He avoids the next shot with a flip, landing too close to the edge of the roof. He teeters dangerously, and that’s the only window the sorcerer needs.

A beam of light straight to the chest.

Falling.

Fal--

---

A woman’s voice (violet) says something as Peter slowly drags himself to consciousness. Again.

(“I lowered his dosage an hour or so ago. He should be coming to any minute now, but don’t worry if he still isn’t lucid,” Helen Cho tells the small group of people waiting in Peter’s hospital room.)

He tries to move first. It takes a herculean effort to stretch his fingers against whatever he’s laying on.

Next, he stretches his senses out towards the room like laying out a picnic blanket on a grassy field.

The first sound to reach his ears is the harsh beeping of a heart monitor to his left. Then he tries to tune into the voices he hears (violet and cinnamon brown and silver and old rose) coming from around the room. Still not quite able to decipher exact words, he just sees an undefined colorful cloud floating on the back of his eyelids.

He peels open his eyes, each small action a little easier than the one before it. His vision slowly focuses on Tony, who’s standing at the foot of his bed next to a woman in a lab coat. His eyes light up like a lamp behind frosted glass when Peter makes foggy eye contact with him. Peter slides his eyes to the right to see May and Pepper looking at him expectantly.

He tries to croak out a greeting, but all that comes is a series of colorless garbled consonants hitting against the roof of his mouth.

“May and I will get you some ice chips, Peter,” Pepper says (silver), helping May out of her chair. They both glance knowingly at Tony and the doctor before leaving the room. Peter’s forehead crinkles in confusion. He swears he just saw something in front of him, a flash of a silver chain, when Pepper spoke.

“Pete, you’ve met Dr. Cho, our resident Spider-Doctor. Among other things, I’m sure,” Tony says (cinnamon brown) as he motions to the woman on his left. She rolls her eyes. He forces his eyes to focus on her, looking through the strange screen of color. His slowed brain finally puts the puzzle pieces together before his eyes light up in recognition. He’s only seen her when he’s injured, but he knows who she is. He tries to move his eyebrows in what he hopes is the equivalent of a wave. She gives him an amused smile in return.

“Mr. Parker, you feel off a building last night,” Dr. Cho explains, and purple blooms in front of Peter’s eyes like grapes falling off a vine. He tries to track it with his eyes as he listens to her. “Thankfully it was only a few stories, but you landed on your right leg, breaking it in two places. We had to put you under while we worked on setting and casting it. You’ll have to use crutches for a week or so, even with your enhanced healing factor.”

He nodded slowly, eyes still bouncing around the room as he wonders where the color came from.

“Eyes here, kiddo,” Tony motions to his face as a soft red-tinged brown appears in Peter’s vision like ground cinnamon sprinkled on top of hot chocolate in the winter. He ignores it to the best of his ability as he makes eye contact with Tony but eventually gives in to trying to look directly at the colors.

“What are you looking at, Peter?” Purple grapes dance in his vision, joining the cinnamon sprinkles as they wax and wane with the voices around him. It takes him a moment to understand the question posed, and another moment to decide what to say.

“Fireworks,” he croaks (denim blue) through a hoarse throat. He wishes that May and Pepper could come back with the ice chips soon. Blue joins the show of colors as the cinnamon and purple begin to fade. His eyes close without him thinking about it, still not quite there enough to keep up with other people. He watches the purple and brown reappear and swirl behind his eyelids as he slowly dips back into sleep.

(“He’s still high as a kite,” Tony sighs in disbelief. Helen Cho places a hand on his arm in comfort.

“He’ll be okay, Tony.”

“He better be,” he responds, rubbing a hand across his face, “I’m going to go get Pep and May.”)

---

The next time Peter opens his eyes, he is lucid. His head still feels like there might be bits of cotton stuck between a few neurons, but he’s finally able to comprehend the scene around him. There’s light from the late afternoon sun filtering through the window blinds, giving the cast on his leg a set of stripes. He looks over to see Tony dozing in one of the hospital chairs to his right. It’s far from the first time he’s woken up in situations like this. He’s glad that the only injury he has this time is whatever’s up with his leg.

Peter debates the pros and cons of waking Tony up, but just as he’s about to say something, his eyes blink open. They look at each other for a beat before Tony breaks the silence.

“How’re you feeling, bud?” His sleep-rugged cinnamon voice falls lightly across Peter’s vision, causing him to frown in confusion.

“Fine, I--” Peter cuts himself off as a blue that matches his comfiest pair of jeans rises in front of him like oil in a lava lamp. His eyes track it subconsciously; It’s hard to look at directly.

“Kid, what are you looking at? Is there something Cho missed?” The red-brown in his vision gets more saturated as Tony’s volume increases.

“No, it’s--” the blue returns “--ah. Give me a second.” He scrunches his eyes shut against the colors, only to see them remain as if painted on the back of his eyelids. After a few beats of silence, they fade into nothing.

He opens his eyes again to see that Tony moved his chair closer to where he’s lying. His face is masked with worry.

“I’m fine,” he knows to stop Tony’s anxiety before it starts. The blue appears again, but he ignores it this time. “There’s just... “

“Just what?” Cinnamon lines of lightning shoot across his eyes.

“Colors? Brown and blue right now. They go away when no one’s talking.” He tries to keep his sentences short, unsure of what the colors mean.

“Cho said it was just the leg,” Tony mutters, and it’s unclear whether it’s to himself or to Peter. “Do you remember what happened?” The brown lightning bolts zip faster around him as if compensating for Tony’s growing anxiety.

“I… I think I was fighting some sorcerer guy, and he hit me with a beam of light like Dr. Strange’s, and then I fell off the roof?”

“Great. I love it when wizards meddle in our business. I’ll have to go through the baby monitor.” He rests his head in his hands as his elbow rests on the metal bar of the bed. The sentence gives way to a companionable silence for a moment.

“I got an alert,” Tony cuts in sharply, the edges of the cinnamon splashes focusing to become almost like blades, “at 12:30 am. A little robot birdie said my #1 intern fell off a building. I flew over to find him crumpled in the alley like an old oil rag.” He pointedly looks towards the window, avoiding Peter’s gaze.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter starts, the blue lava lamp reappearing and upping in speed to match time with his heartbeat. Tony stops him before he can continue, the sharp edge to his voice softening.

“You don’t need to apologize for getting hurt, Pete. I- We’ve learned that we can’t stop you from doing the right thing. We were just worried. You should get some more rest, you’ve still got a bit of drugs to burn through. Enjoy it while it lasts, because May and I will lecture your ear off when she gets back from work. Until then, I’ve got a magician to call.” Tony starts to move as if preparing to leave, and Peter jolts up a bit.

“You can call him in here,” he blurts out without thinking. He quickly starts to backtrack, “I mean, if you want to. You can leave if it’s private. But I don’t mind the noise.” He smiles sheepishly up at Tony, who returns a small, knowing smile.

“I’ll be quiet,” he says, punctuating it with a soft pat on Peter’s shoulder. He leans back in the chair, already fiddling with his phone.

Peter closes his eyes and relaxes into the hospital bed as much as he can.

Most people count sheep when they try to fall asleep. Peter, on the other hand, imagines himself swinging down an endless city street. He breathes in as he swings upwards, and exhales as the ground rushes toward him. He makes it a few blocks before he can’t keep track anymore, a cloud of subtle cinnamon dust settling over his eyes as Tony murmurs into his phone a few feet away.

The lecture from May and Tony never comes.

---

“He’s waking up,” Peter hears a deep scarlet voice announce, entering his vision like the main curtain of a play.

He groans. He’s starting to hate waking up in a hospital bed. With lucidity comes a dull throb from his leg. He opens his eyes to see a small group of people in the room. Dr. Strange is at the foot of his bed, while May and Tony are to the side. He gives them all a shy smile.

“Morning everyone,” he says with a small, awkward wave. His words cause little blue bubbles to pop up around him as the red fades away. He gets a smirk from May which tells him it is decidedly not morning.

“How are you feeling, honey?” May’s question brings with it soft, dusty rose-colored spots in his vision, floating softly like clouds.

“My leg aches a bit,” he ignores a colored remark from Tony, “and I keep seeing colors when people talk to me.” He expects some sort of reaction from that, but May just nods and glances towards Dr. Strange.

“That’s what I’m here to talk about,” he starts, more red blooming on the sides of Peter’s vision, “we believe that the sorcerer you fought somehow gave you a mild form of synesthesia. Chromesthesia, to be specific-- the instant association of sounds with various visual stimuli. Yours is limited to the association of voices with colors.” He ends his explanation with a flourish of his hands that causes the ring of a bell, and Peter nods. He doesn’t see anything new.

“That’s kind of--” Peter gets interrupted by Tony before he can finish.

“If you say ‘cool,’ I’m kicking you out of the medbay and you’re healing on your own.” Tony’s cinnamon-colored threat makes Peter stumble on his words.

“Kind of interesting, I was going to say. Did he do anything harmful?”

“Besides causing you to fall three stories?” May says sourly, her tone contrasted by her voice washing pink over the room. Peter scratches his eyebrow and grimaces a bit.

“Yeah, besides... that.”

Dr. Strange clears his throat and continues with his scarlet monologue, “As far as we can tell, there are no other side effects. There’s no way of knowing if this is permanent or how it will act in the future, but rest assured, I’ll be looking for the spell he used to figure out the reversal. Have a nice day.” He does his hand thing and walks into a portal, causing May to startle and Tony to roll his eyes.

Peter starts to laugh.

“I just realized, the color of his voice matches his cape.”

Tony and May don’t laugh with him.

“Peter, what did we say about putting yourself in danger?”

“...Did we say we liked it?”

He spoke too soon about avoiding their lecture.

---

The first thing Peter does once he can effectively maneuver the compound with his crutches is find a notebook that can fit in his pocket. He grabs a pen from one of the many junk drawers and starts a list of everyone he’s talked to so far.

Mr. Stark - Brown, the filling in cinnamon buns, the teddy bear in the baby photo hanging on the fridge.

Aunt May - Dusty pink, Grandma Parker’s old couch.

Pepper - Silver, fancy necklace chains, handcuffs.

Dr. Cho - Violet, purple grapes.

Dr. Strange - Scarlet, his cape, May’s date night lipstick.

He taps the end of the pen against his chin. He needs to talk to more people.

---

Peter starts to get a new appreciation for classical music. He has his Spotify sorted into playlists by activity, but since he started seeing voices as colors, it was easier for him to just stick to his Study or Die playlist no matter the occasion, which doesn’t have a single word to share among the 50+ songs included. And when it’s quiet around him, whether he’s in his room or on the rooftop at night, and he closes his eyes, he swears he can see the colors of the individual notes waltz under his eyelids.

He keeps eyeing the fancy piano in the common area, wondering if anyone would be mad if he tried to play it. He’s just so bored with his broken leg. He can’t even get his suit on to try to go patrolling, and he’s on compound-arrest before he gets his cast off so no one from his school can ask why he only had it for a week.

Well, Peter thinks, glancing around the room, ask for forgiveness, not permission.

He slowly stalks over to the piano and sits at the bench. There’s always sheet music laying in the stand, and he still has a rudimentary sight-reading ability from his years in the school band. He opens the cover, surprised to find a distinct lack of dust on the keys. But then again, there’s never dust in the compound. He figures that Pepper probably plays it, or something like that.

He straightens the sheet music and then starts to play. It’s slow work, but he can close his eyes and see the beginnings of a watercolor painting. He’s just starting to put more energy into it when he hears someone come into the room. He quickly pokes his head out above the sheet music to see Tony leaning against the entryway.

“If you wanted to learn how to play the piano, you should have asked me.” His cinnamon-colored voice is already a comfort to see. Peter gives him an easy smile.

“Do you play?” His blue question floats over to Tony lazily as he walks over to the piano.

“My mom did. She taught me a few things and I taught myself a few more. Shove over.” Peter obediently scoots so Tony can sit beside him on the bench. “Any requests?”

Peter shakes his head. Tony just hums in response as he shuffles through the sheet music and pulls out a slightly-yellowed page.

“This one’s a duet. Follow this--” he taps on one of the two parts “--it’s the easier one.”

Tony counts them in, and they start to play. Peter can’t quite keep up, but Tony slows to match his pace.

Eventually, Peter takes his hands from the keys, choosing to simply close his eyes and listen to Tony’s music. Tony continued playing the melody alone as Peter leaned his head on his shoulder.

The notes danced in a fireworks show just for him, full of vibrant color.

---

Tony tells FRIDAY to let Happy know they’re on their way down and when FRIDAY responds, Peter just laughs and laughs.

FRIDAY - Turquoise, sea glass.

Happy - Slate gray, medieval castles, cement blocks.

---

Peter finally gets the all-clear to go patrolling again. He wonders how human something has to be before he sees a color for its voice.

Karen - Green, emerald, the ocean.

---

It’s a quiet evening in the Parker apartment. Peter and May already had dinner, and are now winding down by working on homework and reading a book, respectively.

Peter can’t pay attention to his homework. He’s had something on his mind ever since he thought about it on patrol earlier that day. He chews his lip in frustration before deciding to just say something.

“Hey May?” Peter’s words bubble out of him, mirroring the blue that shows up in his vision.

“Yeah, sweetie?” She looks up from her book, shrouded in soft pink.

“Do you have… any recordings of Ben?” Peter hates how weak his voice sounds. May doesn’t respond immediately. She smiles at him softly, her eyes already misty.

“Let me get something from the closet.”

May leaves to go to her bedroom and returns a few minutes later, holding an old shoebox. She sits next to Peter on the couch and opens it. It’s filled with pictures and CDs. It’s like the sun, Peter can’t look at it directly for too long before his eyes start to water.

May cards her hand through his hair and they go through the memories together.

As the night goes on it gets harder to tell if the blue he sees is from Ben’s recorded voice coming from the TV or his own choked sobs.

---

May gives him a long hug before he goes to bed that night.

Ben - Navy blue, overripe blueberries, the sky after the sun sets but before it’s night.

Dad - Barn red, the suitcase gathering dust in the closet, a worn-out Iron Man shirt.

Mom - Pale yellow, banana smoothies, the paint in the hallway bathroom.

---

Ned and Peter rope MJ into watching a Star Wars movie with them after school.

Ned - Orange, tangerine, really old traffic cones.

MJ - Lilac, May’s dress in her prom photo.

Harrison Ford - Rusted orange, tabby cats.

(Ned is delighted to have a similar color.)

---

Tony, Pepper, and Peter are eating dinner at the compound together on a brisk Wednesday evening. Peter got picked up by Happy right after school for a surprise mid-week trip while May had to work late to cover for a coworker. She had thanked Tony and Pepper profusely, just barely believing them when they told her it was their pleasure.

Peter has his eyes closed and his head tilted back against the chair as Tony and Pepper talk about Stark Industries, soaking in the colors of their conversation. Pepper’s silver and Tony’s cinnamon brown mesh nicely together. When they start to banter off each other, the brown almost looks like polished bronze.

The first couple of times Peter did this, people thought he was asleep. With time, they realized that it’s just a new quirk. Whenever he can’t think of anything to contribute to a conversation, or he feels overwhelmed, he likes to close his eyes as people talk around him so he can watch the colors. Peter wishes he had a video of the time he listened to Tony and FRIDAY’s conversation while hanging from a web in the lab. The noise that came out of Tony when he noticed him there was unreal.

Peter’s neck prickles as their relaxing meal is interrupted by the sound of sparks and an open portal across the table from him. Dr. Strange steps through it, his wine-red voice demanding attention.

“I found a cure for Peter.”

Peter snaps to attention, taking in the sight of Tony and Pepper frozen in their discussion, a fork still hanging limply from Pepper’s hand. To their credit, they recover in record time. Dr. Strange barely gives them a moment to gather themselves before continuing in his monologue. Peter wonders if he has to practice what he’s going to say in front of a mirror before he portals somewhere; he goes through his speeches like a trained actor.

“The attacker was just a novice. He intended for the original spell to act as an amplifier, eventually causing you to go blind and deaf. He didn’t take into account your enhanced nature, so it ended up being harmless.” Everyone lets out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

No one brought it up, but Peter could tell everyone was walking on eggshells around him the past couple of weeks. They were all just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to drop to the ground convulsing because of some time-delayed aspect of the spell. He’s glad he can finally relax.

“Harmless besides the three-story fall,” Pepper adds, her silver chaining up the red in Peter’s vision. Dr. Strange looks sufficiently cowed, while Peter is just glad May isn’t there to chew him out.

“Sorry, metaphysically harmless,” he pauses, giving a small apologetic smile to the table. “Either way, the cure is quick and painless. I can do it right now if you’re ready.” Pepper and Tony turn to look at Peter expectantly.

“Wow, okay,” Peter bites the inside of his cheek as he figures out what to say, “I’m glad you figured it out, but I actually kind of… like it. Do I have to get the cure?” He looks around the table to gauge reactions, but everyone has their face carefully blank.

“You’re sure there’s no chance of Peter being hurt by this?” Pepper’s silver voice strikes through his view.

“To the extent of my knowledge, which I assure you extends quite far, he has a clean bill of health,” Dr. Strange confirms. There are a few beats of silence as his scarlet remark hangs in the air.

“In that case, I think we were in the middle of dinner, Criss Angel,” Tony says dismissively, and Peter has to stifle a snort as the reddish-brown dust from Tony’s voice returns.

“Very well,” Dr. Strange’s face is unreadable, “Let me know if there are any new developments.” There’s another fizzling sound, and he’s gone as quickly as he arrived.

There are a few moments of silence after his departure, which is eventually broken by Tony complimenting Pepper’s cooking. Something about the entire situation breaks something in Peter, and he starts to laugh.

“You alright there, kid?” Tony’s cinnamon voice is tinged with barely hidden concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You guys are just--” he laughs again, not sure why his eyes are starting to water “--You guys are great.”

Tony stammers, probably trying to think of a joke to deflect with. Pepper just smiles softly and pats Peter’s hand.

“We love you too, Peter.”

---

Tony and Peter work in the lab until late at night, listening to Tony’s dad-rock blaring through the speakers.

Brian Johnson - Bright red, fire, roses.

Ozzy Osbourne - Neon purple, tie-dye before it’s washed, Barney the Dinosaur.

---

Peter gets detention… again. At least he gets time to pass notes with MJ.

Captain America - Forest green, pears.

---

Peter supposes it was only a matter of time before people started to ask him more about what he sees when someone talks. It’s hard to explain, but he is able to share a basic understanding of it to Tony and May as they sit around their slightly cramped dining room table in Queens. The weekly dinners at May and Peter’s apartment every Friday were May’s idea. It was part of her post-figuring out Spider-Man’s identity plan to be on the same page as Tony. At some point, the tone of them changed from strictly business to almost familial.

“Does it get in the way during patrol? I don’t want you to get hurt because someone’s voice blocked your sight while you were fighting them.” May’s faint pink floating into Peter’s line of sight is a comfort.

“I can ignore it pretty easily. It’s not actually there, so I can look through it when I need to. It’s nice to just watch sometimes, though.” The blue that appears moves more erratically than normal to compensate for his rambling. Tony nods to himself, and Peter knows that if it was an issue, he’d invent a way to get around it.

“So kid,” Tony says, his voice in the same soft register that it always changes to when he visits the apartment, “What color am I?” Peter watches it appear around him for a moment before responding.

“Brown. Like cinnamon, or… wait a second.” Peter excuses himself from the table and goes to grab a photo from the fridge in the kitchen. It's a picture of himself, around two years old, holding a teddy bear close to his chest as he sleeps. He walks back over to the table and offers it to Tony.

“The same color as this,” he says, pointing to the bear captured in baby Peter’s tiny arms. Tony laughs loudly.

“May, I’m going to need a copy of this for the lab. Something to humble the kid when he starts to get too many ideas.” Peter makes an indignant noise and looks to May, who just smiles and winks before taking the picture and returning it to the fridge. They eat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds are the soft clink of silverware.

“Brown... Why couldn’t I be something more exciting?” Tony says, successfully getting a laugh from the two Parkers.

“Actually, remember last week when you helped me with the gang? When you talked through the suit, you were bright red.” Tony puffs up with pride as Peter and May continue to smile at him.

“That’s not going to help his ego, Peter.” May ruffles his hair as she starts to gather the empty dishes.

“May, let me help with those,” Tony offers, also getting up from his chair.

“No, you’re a guest here. Hire dishwashers in your own house,” May responds with a smirk, “You and Peter can go to the living room while I clean up so I don’t get distracted by your science-talk.” She gives Peter a pat on the arm as she passes by him getting out of his chair on her way to the kitchen sink.

“No use arguing with her, kid. Let’s vamoose.” Tony puts a hesitant hand on Peter’s shoulder as he leads him to the living room.

As soon as Peter sits on the couch, he feels the weight of this week’s stress press on him. He spreads out over the cushions, looking up at the ceiling. Tony quirks a brow at him.

“Long week?” Peter likes to imagine that he hears genuine concern underneath the sarcasm in his voice.

“Yeah. I had like a million tests and assignments, MJ scheduled two meetings for Decathalon this week instead of one, and Ned and I were supposed to hang out on Wednesday but I canceled on him so now he must hate me--” He cuts himself off, not wanting to annoy Tony with his teenage drama.

“If best friends start to hate you after one rain-check, Rhodey and I wouldn’t have lasted past the first week of classes. Also, you’re Ned’s only connection to the Avengers. I doubt he’d give that up easily.”

Peter snorts. He slides his eyes over to meet Tony’s and sees a comforting look on his face.

“Anything I can do to help?” Peter hums, idly watching the shades of Tony’s voice float around him before he gets an idea.

“Actually, can you-- uh, nevermind.” Peter ignores the nervous ripple in the blue that shows up in the corner of his eye. He looks back to the ceiling.

“C’mon Pete, I thought we were over the whole ‘not telling me when something is wrong’ thing. I’m just a guy, you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Peter flicks his eyes back to where Tony’s sitting. He really does look… normal. He’s just wearing a worn band tee with jeans, his new norm for the weekly dinners after an unfortunate incident involving pasta sauce, an expensive suit, and a very apologetic May. His hair is less gelled, he’s not wearing any of his sunglasses, and underneath the shoes that May made him take off at the door, he just has some store-brand socks on. If Peter ignores the finely groomed goatee and faint glow of the nanoparticle housing unit, he could just be another tenant in the building. It’s strangely comforting to see him like this, with all of his hard edges and metallic finish smoothed and sanded out. Peter comes out of his reverie to see Tony looking at him expectantly.

“Can you… read to me? If not, that’s totally okay! I just like watching your voice, especially when I’m feeling stressed out, because it’s comforting to me, and I’m definitely kind of stressing out right now, so I could--” Tony cuts him off with a look.

“Kid, all you had to do was ask. I do, despite what you may have heard, know how to read,” Tony successfully gets Peter to let out a small laugh, his shoulders relaxed a bit. “Any requests?”

Peter shakes his head, leaning back further into the couch.

“Work emails it is. Pepper would actually be proud of me right now--” he pulls out his phone, “--Alright. This one’s from Charles Healey. He says, ‘Good afternoon, Mr. Stark…”

Peter sighs and closes his eyes as Tony continues to read aloud. He watches Tony’s voice appear like cinnamon snow. As he relaxes, the walls he puts around his senses slowly come down. He can hear May’s pink voice singing to herself in the kitchen as the sink runs. He starts to hear the murmurs of people walking on the street below. The colors mix and swirl in front of him, each individual person adding their own unique shade. His vision becomes an impressionist painting, one that pulsates to the beat of his heart. It belongs in a museum, but it lives solely in his eyes. Something the world made specifically for him.

His very own symphony of colors.

Tag List: @ironfamjam

#this one was a wild ride #its kinda weird? but i kinda like it?#let me know if you want to be on the tag list!#anyways lets tag this thang #spiderman #spider-man #iron man #irondad #irondad and spiderson #mcu #marvel #avengers #art writes #wahoo

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fablesrose · 5 years ago

Text

Of Kings and Shadows XI

Chapter XI

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint walked in a little while later. "Oh hey, Y/n, I see you're awake. Sorry for not taking you home, do you want me to drive you now?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Nat cut in.

"She's gonna stay here tonight," she smiled innocently, but her eyes said otherwise. I felt bad for Clint.

He halted, surprised, but he didn't challenge her. "Okay," he faked a laugh, "I didn't take you as a mother hen, Tasha."

She didn't look up as she picked up a file and worked on her nails, "Well the rest of you are stupid."

He leaned over the back of the couch she was sitting in, smiling cheekily, "All the more reason to take care of us!"

She pushed his face away causing him to stumble to not fall. I smiled at their friendship, I've always wanted to have a friend that I could do stuff like that with. That's what I wished the friendship with the Avengers would turn into, but I didn't dare wish for. I'm sorry to say nothing else has worked out before.

I reached for the bag Natasha packed for me, "Would you guys mind if I caught a shower and changed into my pj's?" I sat on the edge of the couch ready to stand, but not going to until they said yes.

"Oh, trust me, we're all going to be in our own pajamas sooner rather than later, so go for it."

"Do as you wish," I had almost forgotten he was in the room with him not saying much, only reading his book.

Nat stood, "You can use the shower in my room."

Clint gasped, "You never let me into your room! I'm being replaced! Y/n! I trusted you!" His look of utter betrayal made me feel bad for wanting to laugh.

Nat just rolled her eyes, "Cuz you have your own room, Clint. And honestly, like that's stopped you before."

"What do you mean, you would kill me if I went into your room."

She smirked wickedly, "Exactly, that's what's stopping you."

She led me down the hall to her room and pointed me to where the bathroom was. She left me be to have some me-time.

I yelped at the hot water hitting my legs. I quickly turned it down for the time being. The shower at my apartment was warm, but I haven't had a truly hot shower there. I used Nat's shampoo and massaged it slowly into my scalp. I took my time on everything. The steam opened my sinuses and pores as well as loosening the muscles in my whole body. I scrubbed every inch of my skin getting all of the dead cells off. I made sure I didn't miss a single hair on my legs, rubbing my calves together to make sure they felt smooth. Throughout my spiritual experience, I increased the temperature one little bit at a time. I was nearly beet red by the time I shut the water off. I hadn't felt that refreshed in days.

I changed into my soft pajamas and set off back to the common room. On the way there I heard sad music and soft sobbing coming from one of the rooms. I slowed my pace and stood in front of the door for a moment before knocking softly. There was no answer, so I started to turn the knob.

My gut twisted for a moment alerting me someone was there.

"I wouldn't recommend going in there, Lady Y/n." I looked at Loki who rolled his eyes, "He's a mess, honestly."

I smiled with raised eyebrows and stuck my head in anyway.

Thor was sitting on a couch surrounded by popcorn and chocolate wrappers. There were tears rolling down his face, and grossly sniffing snot back up into his nose. My eyes were drawn to the bag of individually wrapped chocolates lying on the couch next to him. The light from the hallway behind me was shadowed.

"Oh dear, he's even worse."

I didn't respond, only opened the door a little bit wider and took a step in.

Loki groaned, "Oh, are you going to go in there and comfort him? You're worse than I thought."

I snapped around and held a finger to my lips to shush him. I must have looked angry enough because he raised his hands in surrender. I shrunk down to my knees to crawl towards the couch. I looked up to see what was playing on the TV only to find Liam Hemsworth in a towel. My head snapped down to the floor again.

I hate romcoms.

I could feel the second-hand embarrassment creeping up my neck and I wasn't even watching the movie. I quickened my pace while still being as quiet as possible. I peeked my head above the arm of the couch seeing if Thor would notice me. Fortunately, he was too engrossed in the movie and stuffing his face with popcorn to catch me. I looked back to the door to see Loki raise an eyebrow at me.

I shrugged at him before carefully reaching over the couch to the bag of chocolates. The hole was big enough for Thor to easily stick his hand in, so I didn't even touch the edges of the bag when I stuck my hand in. I grabbed a handful and began to pull back. The sudden movement of Thor sneezing caused me to jump. I froze. He stuffed another handful of popcorn in his face and sobbed once more. He let out a wet laugh when I assumed a joke was made, but my heart was thumping so hard in my ears that I couldn't hear what it was.

I finished pulling my hand from the bag and sat with my back to the couch, catching my breath. Loki was trembling in the doorway in what I assumed was laughter. Seeing him laugh almost made me laugh and I struggled to keep quiet.

I made sure Thor wasn't looking my way before preparing myself. This was probably not a good idea.

I'm gonna do it anyway.

I tucked my hand with the chocolates into my chest and rocked back and forth a couple of times before performing (what I think was) a perfect somersault. I was only a couple of steps from the door so I waddled towards it without standing up. Loki moved out of the way as I dove through it and then Loki closed the door behind me.

I clutched the treasure to my chest as I lied on the hallway floor. I was breathing heavily when I burst out laughing.

Loki joined me, chuckling, "I was not expecting that."

I mockingly gasped, "What?" I rolled onto my knees and bowed before him, "The mightly deity that is always five steps ahead didn't plan for this?!" I held a hand to my heart, "Whatever shall you do, Your Highness?!"

He blinked slowly at me, not amused.

"Hehehe..." I stood up a little sheepishly, this bug was messing with my head more than I thought. I grabbed one of the chocolates from my hand and held it out to him, "One for not blowing my cover, Your Highness."

He took it, "Only one?"

"With that attitude, sir," I looked at him pointedly, "you're not getting any." I went to snatch it back but he lifted his hand out of reach.

"No, no, thank you, Y/n." He started to unwrap it slowly, "You know, no one talks this casually to me while still addressing me with a high title."

Uh oh, I miss stepped. I went past my bounds, and now he's politely asking me to be more respectful before he scares me into it.

I let my smile fall to a neutral expression. I straightened my spine and grabbed my bag of clothes. We walked down the hall side by side, "My apologies, Your Highness."

He sighed and gently touched my elbow signaling me to stop. I turned ninety degrees on my heal to face him. "Don't do all that on me now." He paused, scrunching his lips to the side like he was trying to decide if he really wanted to say something. "You..." He took a deep breath, "you don't have to call me that anymore." He looked me in the eye and flashed me a blinding smile, "Call me Loki."

I slowly smiled at him, "Okay." I handed him one more chocolate, almost like a bribe, "One more for you, Loki."

His eyes lit up as he took the foil off the small treat and popped it into his mouth. We continued down the hallway, not conversing much. I had my face stuffed with chocolate when we arrived in the common room. It seemed that everyone had arrived when I was either in the shower or on my impromptu mission.

"Uh hey, Y/n, what's all the chocolate for? Where'd you get it?" Nat tilted her head with a slight smirk that told me she probably knew exactly where it came from but decided to tease me anyway.

I could imagine myself looking like a deer in headlights, "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh, that's so complicated, Jarvis play Bad Medicine."

Your love is like bad medicine Bad medicine is what I need, whoa Shake it up just like bad medicine There ain't no doctor that can cure my disease

Bad medicine

youtube

Tony laughed before singing along. Clint and Natasha also joined in with me once I tossed my bag onto my tangled couch. Steve and Loki didn't know the song but smiled watching the rest of us make fools out of ourselves. Bruce, I saw muttering the words but sat at the island in the kitchen with a glass of water.

We all know where Thor was.

My fun was cut short when the steam of the shower wore off and my nose stuffed up so I couldn't breathe anymore. I tried for the life of me to continue singing with them, but I ran out of breath too quickly. By the time I got back from blowing my nose, the song was over and I finally had the chance to notice that everyone was in their pajamas.

I nestled into my couch admiring them all in sweatpants and either t-shirts or tank tops. We went through all the formalities: how are you feeling, how did the mission do, anything exciting happen, etc, etc.

After all of that was out of the way I couldn't help it any longer, "So, what's up with Thor?"

Tony spoke up first, "Oh nothing that I know about. He just gets like that when he watches romcoms." He paused thinking it over, "That was what he was doing right?"

I nodded and everyone else voiced their affirmative to what Tony said.

My energy drained faster than I had hoped. I found myself yawning more and more.

"Oh, it looks like the sicko's gettin' tired."

It didn't register who was talking, but I sloppily nodded.

"Uh, is anyone open to just laying on top of me?" I stretched.

They all looked at me puzzled, "What?"

"I need some pressure on my body, or if you have like three weighted blankets to lay on top of me." I pressed a hand hard against my chest for emphasis, "Not necessary, but it does help me fall asleep." After a pause, I regretted my question, "Nevermind, I'm probably tired enough to just crash when I get on this couch." I started to stand when my hand was grabbed by Tony.

"Nah, we'll make a big pile together like cats." He began pointing at people as he talked, "Steve, Loki, and Natasha can be closer to your face cuz they won't get sick. Don't look at me like that Romanoff, we all know you aren't 100% biologically normal. Anyway, the rest of us will be tangled up somewhere in a giant pile to sleep. Bruce," Tony looked up at Bruce in a chair while he was on the floor, "you want to tap out?"

Bruce nodded thankfully, "Yeah, I'm gonna go hit the hay."

Tony's plan was put into action, with some protests from Steve and Loki, but eventually, everyone was tangled together, their weight making it a little difficult to breathe in the best way. Nat took it upon herself to be closest to my breathing to make the guys more comfortable. I wasn't quite sure how everyone was situated other than I was laying on someone's legs, arms were everywhere, and I couldn't find anyone's heads.

Needless to say, I woke up a bit sore in the morning, but I hadn't slept better for a long time.

Tag List: OPEN

@nightrose64

#loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader #Avengers #avengersfanfiction #avengers x reader #Steve Rogers #natasharomanoff #clint barton #tony stark #bruce banner #thor #sick #romcom #chapter 11 #Of Kings and Shadows

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pro-bee · 5 years ago

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Ziva David Week Day 2: Favourite episode

I’m gonna cheat here and pick 2, because they go together: Hiatus Part 1 & 2.

(Once again, all screencaps courtesy of NCIS Source. Part 1 and Part 2)

I love Ziva in these two episodes, because we get insight into her feelings in a way we haven’t really so far in the series at this point, and I think it sets up so much of what comes later on, arguably even into the present day.

Yes, the story focuses mainly on Gibbs’ and his amnesia, and Ziva doesn’t have as large a role in these episodes as she would later on, but her scenes pack a punch, and her presence is what ultimately brings the Gibbs they all know and love back.

We get to see Ziva run the whole gamut of emotions, from lighthearted to devastated to snarky to angry to compassionate, and each moment is allowed its own time to shine. It’s quite surprised watching this with the benefit of hindsight to see how integral her role is to the story, especially towards Gibbs, given that at this point she is the newest team member. As we come to learn, though, she also has the most unique connection of any of them to their fearless leader.

I love how the episode opens up with the Three Musketeers on what they think is just another stakeout, teasing each other about movies and generally being idiots.

I mean, how adorable is Ziva when Tony makes the “Sound of Music” reference and she lights up, because she loves that movie? It’s a shame Tony shushed her when she was about to belt out the theme, because as we now know, Ziva’s got some pipes on her. (If only you knew, Tony.)

Ziva was allowed to be jokey and funny and even girly at times in the early episodes, and it’s moments like this where you can actually see how young Ziva is, despite her demeanour. She is competent and professional, but she is also only what, 23 at this point? Most young women her age are still hanging out with their friends at bars on weekends between studying for finals or working their entry-level jobs, whereas she’s trying to save the world from bad guys. She’s so serious so much of the time that it tickles me when we get to see this playful side to her, and not in the “flirty with Tony until he starts sweating” kind of way, but in an almost childlike, joyful manner.

Of course, it’s short-lived in this episode, because Gibbs gets himself blown up right in front of them and all hell breaks loose.

After that, we see Ziva go right into professional mode, and we bump into the first of many conflicts about the outside world’s assumptions about her.

Ducky is the first (of many) to question her ability to feel affection and compassion, when he is astounded that she didn’t ask the paramedics which hospital they took Gibbs to. Ziva rightfully answers that she had a job to do, that once she made sure Gibbs was being taken care of by medical professionals, she then moved onto her job, which was to immediately secure the crime scene -- which is exactly what Gibbs would have done. She knew he was in good hands so she worked on what she was good at, because she had a mission to accomplish.

(lol sidebar, I had my first aid recert the other week and the trainer was emphasizing how your job as first on the scene is to administer cpr until the medical professionals arrive, but when they do take over, your job is done, you can’t carry that with you because you don’t have the training they do, you do your best and that’s enough -- and I feel like that’s exactly the mindset Ziva has.)

Of course, once Ziva pointedly tells him she was a little busy dealing with a fucking explosion to remember to ask which hospital Gibbs was at, Ducky absentmindedly says that Tony or McGee will know, and that stings, because it’s the first of many implications that she doesn’t care enough, and they do. Which we all know is false, but this is a running theme in the show (as we talked about yesterday with Damon’s episode) about how the Ziva the world seems to see isn’t who she really is inside, and she struggles to show herself in ways people understand, because she isn’t outwardly demonstrative in the manner that, say, Abby is.

“Ziva I’m not implying you don’t care. I know you care.”

It’s too late though, because the words have already sunk in. You don’t care. We all know that’s not true, and Ziva knows it’s not true, but that is all people see of her, and it rattles her.

Never mind that a year ago, before she moved to the US, that would probably be seen as an asset to her father, an indication that she can detach to get the job done. But as we now know, she never really could detach -- she just repressed. That no one would have questioned whether she cared enough to remember which hospital her coworker was at -- but that’s also because no one probably cared enough about her as a person to question her own motives.

But now she has something to hold onto. She cares about these people, and she cares what they think, which is why it’s so frustrating when she doesn’t seem to be living up to their expectations.

I feel so much for her here, because we know that she is just doing her job. The best thing she can do right now is to investigate, like she’s been trained to do for the last year, because that is what they need to do to help Gibbs. But her cooler head prevailing kind of exposes the downside of how close their unit is, because when her doing her job is seen as suspicious, it exposes them to greater troubles in times of crisis like these.

Meanwhile, what impresses me so much is precisely how quickly Ziva jumps into action. She is really fucking good at her job. This job that she chose, for the first time in her life, and one she loves. She gets shit done, fast. She is the one who secures the crime scene, directs technicians to their posts, surveys what equipment they need and where, all before Ducky gets there. She has absolutely flourished under Gibbs’ wing, and even just this short time later, she is already demonstrating leadership qualities.

Case in point: when they’re back on the ship, Ziva is the one who is able to survey the scene of the explosion and identify its similarities to a suicide bomber, both because of her own experience growing up in Israel and being a part of Mossad, I’m sure, but also because she has been observing and studying over this past year. While McGee is sick at the sight of blood, unable to really do his job to its fullest here, it’s Ziva who kind of takes charge, and plays second to Tony’s Agent in Charge. (No slight on McGee -- it’s just further evidence of how Ziva has taken to this, and that her background is an unfortunate asset to her in this kind of work.) I think that Tony recognizes that, too.

Yet, a quiet moment that is oddly beautiful is when they are at the crime scene, and Ziva notices that it’s raining.

It’s such a tonal shift from the rest of the scene, but it’s like the rain is so soothing to her, especially in that moment. I’m not quite sure why this stands out so much, why they made a point of her being comforted by that. Is it because she would welcome the rain on the rare times it happened when she was a kid? Is it because it’s going to wash away the wreck of the day? Does it offer her a clean slate? Who knows! She just seems transfixed in a way that is un-Ziva-like.

So it goes for both of the episodes: It is Ziva’s professionalism that actually helps them, and we really see her investigative skills shine. I imagine that is because the work gives her something to focus on when everything and everyone else seem to be falling apart. But the great thing is that this is the whole reason she came to NCIS, whether she intended for it to be or not: she is making choices for herself and thinking for herself. She gets to take charge on leads and check into things that don’t feel right. She has gained an independence of body and mind in DC that she never really knew she needed when she was still working for her father.

She’s on a roll, here. She’s fired up about the case, not only because it directly involves Gibbs, but because she’s looking at the puzzle and knows something isn’t right. “What is wrong with this picture?” she asks, because she realizes the track they’re on doesn’t make sense, regardless of whatever issues are going in within the team. And when she points all that out, I love that Tony has her back: “Damn good summation.” Because he can tease her as much as he’d like, but he had no problem admitting when she is right, and that’s what he needs.

And another thing I love about this, because I am Tiva trash (although this isn’t a Tiva episode) is that it quickly becomes evident how bonded Tony and Ziva are, too. Not just in a romantic sense, but professionally-speaking as well. For instance, from the outset, Abby is quick to remind Tony that he is not Gibbs, even though as senior agent he is in charge. There’s an air of petulance to it, knocking him down for being too haughty, but the thing is, he is doing his job. (In retrospect, these are... really not good episodes for Abs.) So other people joke about Tony impersonating Gibbs, but Ziva is the only one who backs him up, and not in a dramatic, show-y fashion, but through her actions. She doesn’t doubt him, she follows his lead, she does as she’s told not because she’s a doormat, but because she knows what they have to all do to move the investigation along, and she knows that Tony knows and that is why he is ordering them. (That may be the impetus for a fanfic I wrote years ago lol.)

In turn, it also becomes obvious how much Tony has come to rely on Ziva, too. Throughout the episode, she becomes the one he bounces ideas off of, confides in over his suspicions that they’re missing something. He knows that Ziva is the only one who doesn’t resent him, doesn’t make fun of him for throwing ideas out there, actually treats him like he is their boss, albeit in the interim. It’s not just because they like to flirt or get into each other’s pants, it’s because they’re both professionals and recognize that in each other, especially in this time of crisis.

But, they are indeed in a time of crisis, and all this emotional upheaval does eventually get to our baby agent.

First, we had the accusation by Ducky, and then later on, after an ill-advised attempt at black humour to Abby to defuse the tension, she is once again painted as an uncaring robot. (Like I said... this is not Abby’s finest hour.) It all leads to her mini-breakdown in the bathroom, when everything comes to a head. I’m struck now by how soft the scene is, how positively young and vulnerable Ziva is -- splashing her face with water, eyes full of tears, trying to get a hold of herself. How despite her no-nonsense demeanour, she is barely an adult herself, not that far removed from her girlhood dreams and traumas. And the very thing she does to be helpful -- sticking to the task at hand -- is what is isolating her from everyone around her.

She is hurt.

Hurt that she is misunderstood. Hurt that people she’s come to consider friends don’t seem to trust her. Hurt that she has no one to confide in.

We rarely see Ziva cry on this show, and this might be the softest moment she ever gets to experience. The memories she replays as she stares at her reflection -- Ducky insisting Tony and McGee would know when she wouldn’t, Abby’s anger at her -- are what she worries she reflects to the world. It is so heartbreaking to watch.

What it demonstrates, though, is how lost Ziva is without Gibbs there. How they all are. But what this arc does is show that Gibbs is the only one at this point who truly gets her. He did from day one, the second she pulled the trigger on Ari. He saw who she really was, the depths of her convictions, and he’s offered her a safe port in the storm of her life. And now on her own, without him to steady her course, she’s adrift. Because I think what these episodes show is that yes, Ziva has grown immensely and been allowed to blossom at NCIS, but she’s done so because Gibbs’ guidance to their whole team has given her the safe space and confidence to be who she is. Without him there to give her a safety net, she’s back to being just another soldier.

I don’t mean that in the sense that she does everything for him despite what the show will imply years later. What I mean is that like anyone else lucky enough to have a supportive parent, Gibbs’ presence in her life has given her the reassurance to be who she is, not who the world thinks she should be. Without him there, she is weighed down by others’ perceptions of her, and she starts internalizing them. (Which, holy shit, ends up coming back in season 17. Is this our first glimpse of anxiety-ridden Ziva?)

She is desperate to get him back, because that is the only way to get herself back

“What can I do?” “Remember!”

Which is why she is the one who later confronts Amnesiac!Gibbs in his hospital room, because she is so desperate to get him back, to get herself back. It is so significant to the show’s canon that Ziva is the one to finally jog his memory, and again it is not a slight against the other characters, or an indication that she is better than them all (although personally I do think so because she is my favourite after all).

It’s not that he doesn’t love the others as much, or that his longer and deeper history with them isn’t as important. It’s that he and Ziva shared a profound experience together unlike any of the others, and that forged a deep connection. The second Ziva pulled the trigger on Ari, she sealed their fate. (Again which is why I hate the season 7 retcon of her actions, but ultimately the end result is that she shot him to save Gibbs, so it still mostly tracks.)

That leads to her even-bigger breakdown, because everything she’s been holding in for the last few days -- and ultimately for the last year -- comes to a head. Yes, she’s hurt over Gibbs’ accident and everyone’s dismissal of her, but really, she’s hurt over what happened with Ari which she’s never been allowed to process. She can’t deal with it at home in Israel because Ari was a loose cannon, a traitor who needed to be terminated. She can’t deal with it in DC, because there he was a villain who took the life of one of their own.

But to her, he was her brother. The brother she loved and who she thought loved her, the one she grew up idolizing and shadowed professionally, the one she fought tooth and nail to save until she realized there was no choice. And she is never, ever allowed to grieve that. For fuck’s sake, we later learn that their own father ordered his execution. I would guess there probably wouldn’t be much thought to, you know, trauma counselling for his family, including Ziva, for what he put them through, or dealing with having to be the one to stop him. I imagine Eli’s advice was to forget about it and move on, which is part of why Ziva had to get the fuck out of Tel Aviv.

(Sidebar: in my head canon, in the later years at some point post-Tiva, they’d be sitting around talking about things and the subject of Ari would come up, and Ziva would kind of clam up about it, and when Tony would ask her about it, she’d be like, “I know you guys don’t want to ever hear about him, because he was the monster who killed Kate, but... he was also my brother. He was the guy who taught me how to ride a bike and took me for car rides just to listen to music for hours and hours when things got bad between my mother and father and I can’t separate that from who he became. And I can’t ever say any of that out loud because what he did was awful but... he was my brother.”)

“What are you talking about?” “Ari! Ari killed Kate. And I... I killed Ari.” “... Your brother.” “Yes.” “You killed your brother to save me.”

This is just such a huge moment for them.

Because for Ziva, that is probably the first time she’s said those words out loud since it happened. And it’s probably the first time she’s let that grief spill out of her.

Probably the first time someone has comforted her for her loss.

And it is so, so important for her that someone recognizes that. That someone acknowledges the magnitude of what happened, of how it broke her. Of how she’s still broken.

That is the only moment of warmth anyone has shown her all episode, and frankly all series to date.

This isn’t Ziva with no feelings. This is Ziva with feelings so deep she can’t handle them, and they come bursting out in a giant fit of anguish. It’s such a monumental moment for her character, because it reflects all of what has happened in the season leading up to this point. Ziva hasn’t talked about Ari at all since she joined NCIS, since that moment in the elevator where Gibbs recognized what she did for him, and why she needed to break free and start over in DC, far away from her father.

Because I imagine that to her father and Mossad, what she did was treated as professional. That she did her job.

But this wasn’t a job.

She killed her own brother to save another man.

A man who was a total stranger to her, but one who she knew to be good, and more importantly, the confirmation that her brother was not good, that he was not the man she thought he was, and that if she didn’t stop him, he was going to ruin other people’s lives.

(No wonder Ziva is still consumed with anxiety almost 15 years later.)

Ultimately, the reason Ziva’s breakdown triggers Gibbs’ memory again is because she gives him something to come back for. Gibbs was lost without Shannon and Kelly when he was in his first coma in 1991, and all these years later, his doctors have said that there’s no good reason for him to still be stuck in the past in his brain, because his injuries were not severe enough to warrant it. But he stays there because he can’t live without Shannon and Kelly. But here is Ziva, the woman who saved his life, chose his over that of her own family, and she is laying her emotions bare in front of him. And she needs him. That protection he offered her that night in his basement gave her a reason to live, and him as well.

Reminding him of Ari was reminding herself of what she did, how she was in pain just like he was, and she needed a light to guide her way back. And it turns out he needed that too.

(Can you tell this is one of my favourite scenes ever?)

Ziva have him a reason to come back.

Which he does, thanks to her, and eventually they do solve their case, even if it ends in disaster, which in turn prompts him to leave the job behind.

(OT: I have always loved how much trust Gibbs puts in Tony in his absence, how he entrusts Tony with the team when he decides to “retire”. TONY IS A GOOD TEAM LEADER AND THAT IS THE TEA. He did not deserve the crap he got from Abby and McGee about it. Again, Ziva is the only one who recognizes it.)

“I owe you, Ziva.” “I’ll collect, Jethro.”

This is just so soft. Again, Ziva is still in a raw state, and she’s teary-eyed as she watches him give his goodbyes, then eventually to her. (Also, thank goodness this is the only time she calls him “Jethro” because it just sounds weird coming from any of the agents.) It is the most sincere and the most loaded of the goodbyes, because they have just shared another monumental experience together, alone, and it cuts deeply.

Which is why today, in the year of our lord two-thousand-and-nineteen, we are still dealing with the aftermath of this.

How their relationship is still this charged and steeped in personal trauma but also in this wartime-like spirit of saving your comrade in arms.

How it’s natural that Ziva feels so hurt at Gibbs “abandoning” her (whether you agree with her or not), because once upon a time he was the person who saved her soul and help her heal, and gave her the opportunity to follow her own heart and her own path, and she ended up feeling lost without that. (Again, it’s up to you to believe if that is truly the case, but I think the point the show has made is that Ziva believes it, which this episode cemented.)

How Ziva is still riddled with guilt and self-doubt, who still believes she is a lost cause when people accuse her of being unfeeling.

How Ziva’s heart is actually so huge, and it’s a miracle she found her place in NCIS so that she could start letting the world know it.

It’s just... I have so many feelings about these scenes, and I could still talk about it for hours, but Day 2 is almost Day 3 and I gotta get this posted.

But I had to get this off my chest, because these episodes are SO IMPORTANT for her character. We learn a little bit about her and a lot about her heart, and she takes the lead as the emotional centre of the story for the arc. Because she remembers.

----

Also more unrelated thoughts about why I love these episodes:

Ziva was allowed to be funny and lighthearted early on and I miss it.

“What if those were Gibbs’ guts smushed all over that room?” The colour would be more coffee brown than red.” ZIVA! ZIVA IS SO FUNNY! Ah, gallows humour. I understand Abby was upset but THAT WAS A DAMN FUNNY JOKE. Again, Ziva was allowed to be so much funnier in first few seasons and it’s a shame the show wrote that out of her and replaced it with more trauma.

(Also the slap-fest was such a token male fantasy and it was gross. Stop it, Show.)

(But Abby deserved it a little because she was hysterical.)

“Never doubt an Israeli about diamonds” I don’t even know if that is an actual thing or just a Ziva-ism they made up, but, lol, Ziva sure does know a lot about diamonds for a girl who lives in cammo half the time. I know her dad taught her a lot about them bla bla bla secret slush funds I don’t care, Ziva is girly sometimes. Someone better put a ring on it.

We get to see Ziva use her considerable language skills in this episode!

Including French!

Ziva can and will fuck your shit up:

#zivadavidweek2019 #ziva david #hiatus part 1 #hiatus part 2 #3x23 #3x24 #i love me some ziva feels #baby ziva needs a hug #long post #very long post #like the episodes as a whole aren't ziva centric #but they are #because she's the emotional centre #and i love me an episode that dives into that

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littleplebe · 6 years ago

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Something Wonderful - Part 7

For @idontgettechnology. I promised you kisses and a manip.

Thanks @mee2themoo for hosting the Marvel Summer Fun And Fluff Fest.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Tony’s party was being held in a room the Hulk normally used for letting off steam. The tower’s state-of-the-art gym was no match for his sheer size and strength, therefore several supply closets, file rooms and unused offices had been cleared on the vacant 40th floor where a Hulk secure room was built, fully equipped with thick, sound proof walls, fight simulations fit for the strongest Avenger, and an advanced audio system in case the big guy was in the mood for some music.

Bruce rarely ever used it, but when he did, he came out looking a lot more at ease than he did going in.

The room was good for parties too, when Tony ended up inviting a lot of people and was unwilling to grant them clearance past the business floors.

It wasn’t that big a room that you’d get lost in if you weren’t careful, but it was big enough for Steve to feel like there was a whole chasm of nothingness between him and Jane, a dark abyss that separated his corner from hers, and the only thing keeping him from falling into it was Tony’s firm, grounding grip on his arm. With each step forward, Jane seemed farther and farther away until it felt like it would take a lifetime to reach her side.

Somewhere, it occurred to him that it had taken him a lifetime to get to this point where he could look back and see no regrets. Maybe that’s what she symbolized for him, something to look forward to.

The thought made him walk faster, causing Tony to let go of his arm. The billionaire’s excitement was infectious, rolling off of him in waves until Steve himself was bubbling with it. He was still afraid Jane wouldn’t recognize him, or if she did, she’d be indifferent toward him, but that didn’t make him want to see her any less. He caught a hint of her voice as they neared and his heart skipped a beat.

“… not looking for anyone, I swear, just being alert.”

She was glancing over her shoulder with furtive eyes, a flute of champagne clutched tightly within her grasp. This close, Steve could see the beads of sweat on her neck, the restlessness in her fingers as they tapped endlessly against the glass in her hand, and the suspicious way she kept casting her eyes about as if searching for something. She didn’t see him stumble to a halt in front of her until Thor issued a greeting in his deep, God-like voice.

“Tony, Steve, I’ve missed you dearly, my friends,” he rumbled, grasping both their hands and setting in motion a chain of events that none of them could have predicted.

It started with Jane having a mini heart attack at the sound of Steve’s name. A loud, halting gasp, like the wind being knocked out of someone, tore out of her as she whipped around and caught sight of him standing before her. A little bit of her drink spilled on her hand as she jumped, and while a startled Thor managed to steady her in time, he wasn’t fast enough to save the flute of champagne she was holding from hurtling toward the floor.

In Steve’s mind, everything happened as if in slow motion. He saw the panic on Jane’s face as she made a wild grab for the falling object, her wide eyes leaving his to focus on its fall. Someone cursed and someone else cried out an unfamiliar name. Darcy. On instinct, Steve felt himself move forward and smoothly snatch the glass out of the air, saving it from certain doom.

“Here,” he murmured, holding it out to a stunned Jane.

She swallowed and took it. “Thanks.”

They held each other’s gazes and Steve knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she recognized him and was as affected by his presence as he was by hers.

After what felt like eternity, she averted her eyes with a shaky sigh and time sped up again. The sounds of the party, of people around them talking and laughing, trickled back into Steve’s consciousness and he remembered where he was. He couldn’t look away from Jane though and wished he could pull her away from the chaos to someplace secluded where they could interact without an audience.

“Are you alright, little one?” Thor asked her in concern at the same time the woman on his other side said, “Jesus, Darcy, what happened?”

“I’m fine. I’ll go clean up,” Jane mumbled, looking down at her champagne drenched hand. Her eyes flickered to Steve one last time before she hurried away on unsteady feet.

Steve stared uncomprehendingly after her, his feet frozen in place and mind reeling from what he had just witnessed. This was not how he had imagined this meeting would go.

Tony was practically vibrating beside him, barely able to contain himself. “Whew, I hope she’s okay,” he remarked, sounding entirely too gleeful to be truly concerned for her or anybody else. He was enjoying this situation a little too much and Steve wanted to smack him over the head until he dropped that annoying smug smile from his annoying smug face.

Meanwhile, the woman who had called Jane Darcy turned to Thor and worried, “I should go check on her. I don’t know what happened.”

“Of course, my love,” Thor replied. “But won’t you let me introduce you to the Captain and Tony Stark first? Everyone here has been most eager to make your acquaintance.”

“Yeah, okay.” She met Steve’s eyes with a smile, and something suddenly clicked into place in his brain.

He looked at her, really looked. At the intelligent curve of her mouth, at the way she stood molded to Thor’s side, at all the little details that told him she was a few years older than him and couldn’t have been a student at Culver just a year ago…

Tony had been right. Steve was an idiot.

“Let me guess,” he said, trying and failing to sound calm. “You’re Jane Foster.”

The real Jane Foster nodded, looking bemused by his eagerness. “And you’re Steve Rogers.”

“Yes, I am!” And without warning, Steve stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

She squeaked in surprise and braced her hands on his waist. “Wha—?”

“It’s great to see you, Dr. Foster,” Steve gushed, pulling away after a brief second. “Really, really great.”

Then he spun around and left in search of Darcy, leaving a baffled trio of people in his wake.

Tony cleared his throat. “Well, that was unexpected.”

---

He found her outside in the empty corridor, leaning with her back against the wall, eyes closed and hand over her heart. It was eerily quiet out there, the insulated walls successfully masking the sounds of the party next door. Every breath he took rang louder than normal and Steve could clearly hear the change in Darcy’s breathing when he situated himself beside her, close enough to feel the heat of her body but not enough that their shoulders brushed.

She didn’t open her eyes, so he took a moment to just drink her in, feeling all of his tension from earlier melt away with one long, shuddering exhale. She hadn’t changed much but his memory had failed to do her justice, he realized. She was more beautiful than she ever was in his dreams. Steve felt like he would have to learn her all over again to draw her better next time.

“Take a picture,” she said suddenly, her lips quirking up as if she knew what he was doing. “It’ll last longer.”

She opened her eyes and rolled her head to look at him, and Steve felt his breath hitch.

“I scared you back there,” he said apologetically, although it had stung when she had fled the party upon seeing him.

“You did,” she agreed, letting the hand on her chest drop to her side, where she proceeded to pick uncomfortably at her dress. “Thor said you were away on a mission. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Steve nodded. He had returned early and agreed to make a token appearance at the party on Tony’s insistence. “But you were still looking for me.”

Jane—no, Darcy opened her mouth and closed it, looking none too happy about being caught. When she pointedly refused to neither confirm nor deny his statement, Steve smothered a pleased smile. “So, you know who I am.”

She gave him a look. “Everyone knows who you are.”

“Not everyone.”

“Everyone at this party does.”

Steve grimaced and scuffed the toe of his shoe over the concrete, feeling a flush climb up his cheeks. “I guess the tabloid frequenters do,” he finally acceded, hating the way it sounded. He caught the amused look on her face and rolled his eyes. “How did you find out?”

“Switched on the news channel one day and saw you fighting aliens.” Her fingers kept plucking absently at her dress and Steve’s eyes dipped to study her posture. It was stiff and awkward, and her right foot tapped restlessly against the floor. She was throwing off nervous energy in waves. “If I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have been able to recognize you.” She met his eyes but didn’t hold them for long. “Felt a little stupid, to be honest.”

“Why?” Steve placed a steady hand over her fidgety one and watched her suck in a sharp breath. “Do I make you nervous?”

The corners of her mouth twitched up in assent. “A little.”

“Why?” he asked again, perplexed.

She didn’t respond immediately, choosing to direct her attention to their clasped hands instead, a faint smile playing over her lips. Steve looked down as well, marveling at the way her hand almost seemed to get lost in his large one. Her entire being was slight compared to his. He could wrap himself around her and engulf her whole. She looked like she would fit perfectly into him.

Her hand twisted in his grasp and their fingers entwined. She looked up, eyes bright and cheeks lightly flushed. Steve couldn’t have looked away from her if he tried.

“You’re Captain America, Steve,” she explained softly. “Most would say you’re way, way out of my league.”

“That’s crazy and they’re stupid,” Steve disputed immediately, feeling super offended at the mere idea of what she was implying. “We’re very much in each other’s leagues.” If the Captain ruined this for him, he swore to God he would give everything up and become a naked mountain hermit. “I’m still me. You know me,” he insisted.

“I really don’t,” Darcy replied.

“Enough to have kissed me that day before I left,” Steve continued undeterred. It earned him a startled laugh from her. Apparently, she hadn’t expected him to bring up the kiss anytime soon.

Well, tough luck. Steve hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he had followed her out of the party.

“That was different,” Darcy argued, but she was smiling. “You’re really hot.”

“So are you,” Steve shot back, irritated. Couldn’t she see how breathtaking she was?

“But then I realized I made Captain America play a silly game—”

“It wasn’t a silly game.”

“And I feared you wouldn’t remember me—”

Steve wanted to laugh; she couldn’t be further from the truth. “Darcy,” her real name rolled off his tongue with surprising ease, effectively shutting her up. He turned on his feet to face her, squeezed her fingers, and murmured seriously, “I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

His declaration was met with silence as a dizzying array of emotions flashed across Darcy’s face. She went from skeptical to hopeful to awed to something else entirely that Steve couldn’t quite decipher. Her expression softened and she looked at him in a way that now made him nervous.

“Okay?” he asked, just to make sure she understood.

“Okay,” she whispered, sounding giddy.

“Any other doubts?” His voice dropped as he stepped into her, unable to hold himself back anymore.

Darcy promptly stopped breathing and forgot to reply, her blue eyes trained intently on him, waiting.

Steve blew out a breath. She wanted this. She wanted him. The knowledge was enough to send his heart racing. Feeling rather bolstered by this realization, he brought his free hand up to cup her neck, gently tracing his thumb along her jaw and under her chin until her eyelids grew heavy and she tilted her face up to meet his. Absently, he wondered if she still tasted like monsoon and wild berries. He supposed he was going to find out in a second. Her lips parted, inches away from his, when—

The door leading to the party burst open, blasting a thunderous wave of unwanted noise into the corridor. An unassuming Jane stepped out and jumped when she saw them. “Oh, jeez!” she gasped, becoming flustered as soon as her eyes took in the sight before her. “Oh, crap! I interrupted a moment. Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Startled, Darcy wrenched her hand from Steve’s and he took a small step away from her, feeling heat rise up his cheeks. “Dr. Foster?” he prompted, sounding pained.

“No, no, consider me gone,” Jane said with a hasty step back. “I just wanted to check on Darcy. Sorry, please continue.” She scurried back the way she came, leaving behind an awkward silence.

There was a beat in which Steve glared resentfully at the spot where Jane had stood. Then, Darcy giggled, slapping a hand to her face in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

Steve turned back to her with a sigh and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, mentally cursing his luck. There was only one thing to do, he decided, as his mind weighed several options. Either they stayed where they were and likely be interrupted again, or he whisked Darcy away to a private setting and continued where they left off.

For obvious reasons, the latter sounded more appealing. But she was sliding her hand up his arm, over his shoulder and into the hair at the base of his neck, scratching lightly, and it felt so amazing, so utterly electrifying, that Steve just didn’t want to move.

“Darcy,” he breathed, suppressing a shiver of pleasure. “How long are you here for?”

“Just the weekend,” she replied. And while he wanted her to stay longer, two days were more than enough. For now.

With great effort, he pushed away from her and stated, “We shouldn’t stand here. Will you come to my place with me?”

She hesitated, but only for a second. “Yes.”

---

When Steve had moved into Stark Tower, he had assumed it’d only be for a short time. The location was convenient. S.H.I.E.L.D. offices were nearby, so were the other Avengers. Debriefing sessions lasted long and the paperwork they had to do was extremely thorough. By the end of the day, Steve was too tired to go anywhere else. The tower was being majorly revamped and renovated after the battle of New York, but Tony didn’t mind having a super soldier camped out on his couch, so Steve had decided to hang around until the shock of aliens had worn off and the city was well on its way to rebuilding.

Like him, Bruce too had moved in, setting up shop in one of Tony’s labs, and soon, Thor found his way back to Earth. It was comforting to be surrounded by people who knew what it felt like to be different.

Before he knew it, thoughts of going back to his old Brooklyn apartment bit the dust as Steve quickly became used to living in the tower. Tony, in his over-the-top generosity, presented him with an entire floor, to do with it as he pleased. And although his lavish new lifestyle filled with undeserved luxuries discomfited him in more ways than one, Steve appreciated the privacy his personal floor afforded him. No one but the Avengers, their Head of Security, and Pepper Potts had access to it.

Which is why the sight of an unfamiliar suitcase sitting suspiciously outside his door caught him unaware.

He glanced at Darcy, who was silently admiring the framed paintings hanging along the hallway, smiling every now and then when she recognized one. “Oh wow, that’s not a very good replica, is it?” She chuckled, pointing at fake Mona Lisa. “Look how wide her smirk is.”

Steve’s attention was on the suitcase. They came to a stop before it and he bent down to examine the shady item. He had never seen it before. It was brown in color, and looked and felt perfectly normal. Steve nudged it a bit, wondering if he should pick it up. He couldn’t hear anything ticking or rattling around inside.

Before he could take any drastic measures, like call security to vet the bag, Darcy let out a surprised exclamation.

“Hey, that’s mine!” She took the suitcase from his hands, staring at it in confusion. “How the hell did it get here?”

The moment she claimed it, Steve’s paranoia subsided and he knew whose foul handiwork this was. A thrill shot through him but he mostly felt embarrassed. “Tony,” he explained with a groan. “He knows about us and… well, he must have sent Happy to deliver it here.”

Darcy went red, the meaning behind Stark’s gesture not lost on her. Steve unlocked his door and waited for her to address it but all she said was, “Kind of an ass, isn’t he?” before following him inside—and really, the human heart shouldn’t be able to jump and flip like that. If it leaped any higher, it would lodge in his throat and choke him with anticipation.

“This is where you live?” Darcy whistled as they stepped into a large, sparsely furnished living room. Most of it was vacant but Steve preferred the sitting area anyway. It consisted of a plush leather couch flanked by two comfortable armchairs, a dark oak coffee table, a bookcase neatly stocked with paperbacks, a 52 inch television sitting on a multi-storage TV stand, and a number of nearly dead potted plants sitting on the window sill.

Steve dragged a hand along the back of his neck. “Yeah.” He caught her looking at the plants and explained unnecessarily, “I always forget to water them.”

Darcy chuckled. “I figured.”

“This way.” He felt a bit awkward leading her into his bedroom but there was only one bathroom and it was in there. He told her to use it if she wanted, but she beelined for the bed instead, dropping her suitcase to the floor and perching on the edge of his silk sheets to kick off her heels.

Her feet were pale, as if they hadn’t been getting any blood circulation. “Oh, God, that feels better,” she groaned, massaging them with both hands.

Steve watched her, trying not to feel out of place in his own home. He’d never had a woman in there before and Darcy seemed to fill the place in a way he hadn’t imagined possible. She was physically tiny but her presence all but surrounded and overpowered his, making it feel like they were in her house, not his. It was at once both humbling and arousing.

Unable to decide whether he should join her on the bed or pull up a chair, Steve busied himself unbuttoning his suit jacket and shrugging it off. “I searched for you,” he said the first thing that popped into his head and Darcy looked up, curious.

“Huh?” She let her feet go and they dangled inches above the floor, still very pale.

“I Googled you,” Steve clarified. “Some time after I came back.”

“You Googled me?” she repeated, arching a brow. “What did you find?”

He shot her a dry look. “Some scientific papers by a Dr. Jane Foster who lives in New Mexico and definitely isn’t you.”

The beginnings of an impish grin bloomed on Darcy’s face. “Oops,” she said unapologetically. “If only you’d known S.H.I.E.L.D. has a file on us… hmm, no, it wouldn’t have mattered as most of the stuff is probably redacted.”

Steve frowned as he rolled up his sleeves and slowly made his way to her. He hadn’t thought of scouring S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database. “You could have told me,” he tried not to sound like he was complaining. “Before I left, you could have told me the truth.”

Darcy looked down. “You didn’t leave me much choice, did you?” she said, making him wince. “Literally jumping outta my window in your haste to get away from me.”

“Yeah. About that…” Steve began.

Darcy shook her head. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he said quickly. “And I want to.” He swayed uncertainly on the balls of his feet before deciding to just screw it and take a seat beside her. “I was running away when I met you.”

“I know,” Darcy said with a soft smile.

Steve nodded. He hadn’t exactly tried to hide his pain from her. “My life felt like a never-ending nightmare that I was constantly struggling to wake up from. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe, I built a wall around myself to keep everything out because it was too difficult to handle the grief that came with acknowledging what had happened to me.”

“Oh, Steve.” He didn’t have to look at her to hear the sadness in her voice.

“Being with you,” he continued quickly, afraid he would ruin the moment if he stretched this any longer, “even if it was for one night, put a nice big crack in that wall. It was welcome but it also wasn’t. I was confused and scared. So, I did what I thought was best. I made a run for it.”

“Why?”

“I guess,” he swallowed hard, “I guess I felt like I was betraying my old life and everyone in it whom I loved. Like it’d be selfish of me to try and be happy, you know?”

Darcy didn’t respond. Steve knew she didn’t—couldn’t—understand. She never would. Because she hadn’t lived the same life he had. But when he looked up to meet her eyes, he saw himself reflected in them, bright and clear. For a moment, he was all she saw and Steve treasured being the center of her attention. He had stopped trying to make sense of why she meant so much to him and what it was about her that attracted him like a moth to flame. It wasn’t just her beauty. It was something deeper, something inexplicable that had brought her to him again. Fate, maybe.

Steve didn’t believe in soul mates but he’d be willing to make an exception just this once.

“Alright, enough moping,” Darcy said abruptly, and Steve blinked to see her heaving her suitcase onto the bed. “I’ve something to show you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Close your eyes,” she ordered.

He didn’t think to ask why and obediently closed his eyes. Darcy was rummaging for something in her bag and whatever she pulled out wasn’t anything hard or brittle. It wasn’t food because he couldn’t smell it. It wasn’t made with paper because the sound of it was different. It wasn’t a board game because he couldn’t hear rattling. If he had to guess, he’d say it was something soft… like a piece of clothing. The sound of it whispered through the air, easily captured by his enhanced hearing, and Steve’s heart sped up. Whatever it was, smelled like her. It had to be another dress. And by the sounds of it, she was changing. Right in front of him.

Oh, God. He squeezed his eyelids tighter and imagined a hundred different outfits with a hundred different colors that she’d want to show him.

“Alright,” came her voice at last. “You can look.”

Steve opened his eyes slowly, not wanting to appear too eager. The first thing he noticed was Darcy standing before him with her arms spread wide and a big smile on her face. The second thing he noticed were bare legs. The third thing… well, shit.

“Ta-da!” Darcy exclaimed, proudly showing off a familiar flannel shirt, faded with wear. “I kept it.”

It was the same shirt Steve had left in her possession a year and a half ago, the same shirt she wore in his dreams, always managing to pull a rather visceral reaction out of him whenever he thought of her in it. The same shirt he had expected never to see again. Yet there it was, wrapped around her like a blanket, practically drowning her in its depths.

“This doesn’t mean you can have it back,” Darcy said when he failed to react. His brain had pretty much short circuited the moment he had opened his eyes and laid them on her. “It’s mine now.”

“Is that right?” Steve murmured, sweeping his eyes over her body. The shirt looked well-worn. A couple of buttons over her belly were missing and the fabric was unraveling at the seams.

Something inside him jumped at the sight. Heat sparked in his gut, shooting up his spine like electricity, and Steve acted on impulse. He grabbed a fistful of her shirt and gave it a strong tug. Darcy gasped as she stumbled forward into him, her hands flying to his shoulders for support. She ended up between his knees, head bent over his, and there was no interruption this time as Steve sunk his fingers into her hair and surged up to claim her mouth.

It was a bold move, one that hadn’t afforded her any time to think, but Steve didn’t have to worry about that at all. Darcy responded straight away, parting her lips and sighing into the kiss like she had been waiting for him to do it forever. Her hands climbed up his shoulders to cradle his jaw and she leaned further into him, tipping his head back and stealing his breath away.

It was unlike any kiss he’d ever had. Soft yet intense, innocent yet hot, brief yet infinite. Steve felt like he was losing control with every press of her lips and yet he couldn’t help giving into that feeling. It was amazing and all-encompassing and it made his blood sing. He tightened his grip on her shirt and drew her further in, dragging a breathy moan from the back of her throat. The sound went straight to his core and rippled out into a full-body shudder.

“Wow,” Darcy panted when they broke apart moments later. “I’m sure glad I let Jane talk me into coming here tonight.”

Steve grudgingly relinquished his hold on her and combed his fingers through his hair, smiling fondly. “So am I.” He eyed his—her—shirt and nodded to it. “You look beautiful in it.”

She laughed and hugged it to her body. “No, I don’t. You just like me in your clothes.”

He couldn’t argue with that. She did look beautiful though, even if she didn’t believe it.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her, because if he didn’t change the subject, he’d end up pulling her to him again. “We didn’t stay for dinner, did we?”

“We could go back,” Darcy suggested. “I can put my dress on real quick.”

Steve didn’t like that idea at all. Nobody was putting on any dresses. It was counter-productive to his plans. Not that his plans involved anything untoward. Just a lot of admiring. And kissing, if she allowed.

“I have food here,” he told her, and Darcy grinned knowingly.

“Okay.” She looked around his room as if seeing it for the first time. “Can we eat in here?”

Steve nodded. “Wherever you want. But first,” He patted the spot beside him and waited for her to sit down. “I want to show you something.”

“What is it?” She watched curiously as he bent down and pulled a box of Monopoly from under the bed. “Oh no, Steve. I hate Monopoly.”

“Look inside.” He opened the box to reveal her favorite game.

Darcy gasped. It was an exact replica of Royal Rescue done in water colors. Steve hadn’t planned on showing it to her. But he wanted her to know he didn’t think of it as a silly game. It had saved him from a nightmare once after all.

“Where did you get this?” Darcy asked, staring down at the game board in surprise.

“I made it,” Steve told her shyly. “Natasha played it once and is now obsessed with it. We often stage rescue missions for the perpetually kidnapped princess.” He paused and watched her for her reaction. “Do you like it?”

“You painted this?” Darcy asked with mingled awe and confusion. “Why?”

Steve shrugged. “I couldn’t find it in the stores or online and it led me to assume it must be a family game.”

She nodded. “It is. My gran made it.” She plucked a playing piece from the box and examined it. “You remember the green thing we played on last time? It caught on something sharp and ripped right down the middle.”

“Oh.” Good thing he had painted a new game board. Now he knew what to give her when she left for New Mexico.

“Where did you get these playing pieces?”

“Oh, I nicked them from several different games in Clint’s stash,” Steve replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. “He hasn’t figured it out yet.”

A slow smile spread across Darcy’s face till she was literally beaming with joy. “I can’t believe you did this,” she gushed, sliding the Monopoly box to the side and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

“I can’t believe you kept my shirt,” Steve retorted, happily hugging her back.

“It’s my shirt.”

“Right.”

She pulled away to smolder at him. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Steve cleared his throat. “And I’m going to allow that, but only ‘cause you asked ni—”

Darcy laughed and tackled him down on the bed, pressing her lips to his in a sound kiss.

Maybe it was just as well that Steve was reborn in the 21st century. It wasn’t as bad as he had feared it’d be.

The End

#steve rogers #darcy lewis #shieldshock #manip #darcy x steve #tony stark #jane foster #thor #marvel summer fun n' fluff fest #darcy lewis/steve rogers fanfiction

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