#ANTHONY EDWARD STARK YOU PUT ON A HELMET RIGHT NOW

[kayvsworld]

the da vinci of our time

[littledoveheart]

Mr Parker

(Part 2.)

The lights were blinding. The crowd was deafening. The music was pounding harshly against the floor and creating a rumble that only heightened the crowd’s anticipation for the one, the only, the Iron Man.

Well, the one and the only Iron Man was currently throwing up everything he had eaten that day with such impetuous force that he was convulsing while he white knuckled the smooth toilet seat.

“I’m serious give me a little space.” Tony gargled and gagged while his head was reclining on the seat, practically in said toilet and Peter Parker gave an unimpressed grimace while he adhered the red and gold iron man helmet. 

“Oh, get up.” Peter drawled, already irked by his boss who was definitely able to make his blood boil just within the minute or even second.

“No no i’m serious i don’t think i can go through with this.” Tony stumbled over his words like a drunken pelican while he braced himself for another tsunami wave of vomiting due to the sheer fear.

“We don’t have time for this we have to go!” Peter practically yells at him as if to swat some sense into Tony who was currently engulfed in trepidation of his jump from unimaginable heights that made him queasy.

“Oh God, you do not want to see that.” Tony cautioned while his armoured hands slammed down the toilet seat as if to conceal something that was a life or death matter. He felt as drunk as a swine as he upheaved himself and stumbled over nothing to his assistant.

“Where am i? Do i look weird?” “You look like you always do, you look like you have a hangover.”

“Can you get me something? Scotch, ale, Advil?”

“I don’t have any Advil, i have Motrin.” “I’m telling you there is something seriously wrong with giving a grown man Motrin! I’m not on my cycle Peter!”

“There is something seriously wrong with you, Tony!”

Tony doesn't seem at all predisposed as he grapples a safety bar to hoist his armour clad body upwards and into the awaiting arms of Peter, who was practically tearing at the seams with stress and anxiety.

“Abort the mission!”

“Tony you’re being ridiculous!”

“Abort the mission, we’re dropping!”

“No, no don’t-”

“I’m not doing this mission, abort it!”

“We are not aborting this mission!”

Tony quickly yanks an oxygen mask from the wall and inhales sharply, needing sustenance. He just wishes that he was breathing in the scent of Peter, that would definitely make him feel on cloud 9 but without all of the panic and consternation.

“Do you know how long it took me to get the DOD to approve of this Tony? And you know who i did it for? You. We are now over the drop zone.”

“What?” “Yes.”

Tony gets directly into Peter’s space, his nostrils, eyes determined to fill up on their daily dosage of the brunette who kept Tony alive without evening knowing it most of the time.

“Let’s do this, baby.” Tony sighed out softly while his lips yearned for those red lips of Peter, who seemed to notice the distance, or lack of, between them as he began to pant and hyperventilate in a nervous frenzy of, did he wear deodorant? Did he put lip gloss on?

“I know i can be selfish at times, and i know i don’t say it often enough”, Tony yells while his tenacious hands grapple Peter’s crooked elbows that were keeping the Iron Man helmet close to his chest, “But how’s my hair?”

“You said that before.”

“Yeah, but this time i mean it.”

“Yeah you’re looking good.”

“Ok, gimme a smooch for good luck i might not make it back this is heavy stuff.”

Well, that was certainly pushing the envelope and overstepping boundaries that had never once been overpassed. Tony had never tried his luck like that before. Sure, they had been dancing around each other, provocatively dancing around each other at that, to see if they could establish if the other was harbouring feelings too.

Peter heightened the Iron Man helmet so that it was directly in line with his red rosy lips and God Tony felt his hard on get impossibly harder when Peter started to make out with the helmet, tongue included.

Then he launched it off of the plane.

“Go get em boss…”

Tony’s lips quirk into a furtive smirk as he nods before sprinting forward. He wasn’t scared anymore. Peter had breathed life into him and gave stored the courage into his arc batteries as he jumped.

“You complete me!”

**

The entire room was filled with commotion that was almost infectious as Peter sat on his leather chair, leg crossed over the other while his dull grey straight skirt restricted his leg from bouncing in nerves for his boss who was being tried for ownership of his iron man suit. Peter absolutely believed that Tony should keep ownership in his grasp, he had after all created it and therefore it existed with Tony and that should be kept that way.

“Mr Parker, you ok?”

Peter eyes left their haze behind as they focussed on Tony Stark, a tiny head droop overcame him as he nods softly.

“I’m fine. And i know this must be hard for yo-”

“Not at all, if anything it’s a game. And i’m winning, i’m a sore loser.”

“A game? A game in which you don’t have get out of jail free cards, you don’t have free parking so you can take a minute to revise your strategy. Sounds like a dangerous game.” Peter chastises, clearly sullen and even the unsympathetic Tony Stark feels for his assistant and love interest more than he could ever express.

“Ok, yes. I am scared.” Tony conceded while he crouched next to Peter’s leather chair, his bones cracking from his age and the exhaustion of being Iron Man for 6 months, it was still his negotiation phase with his age and being the metal hero.

“I know you are Tony. But hey, if this fails we still have each other right?” Peter reached out for a spark to set off a firework of emotion to the selfish, ostracised billionaire and it seemed to work as Tony’s lips quirked upwards.

“Always.”

Tony slumps in his chair bored as his body’s energy just seems to drain from him and lay in a pool on the floor as the Congress goes on and on about how he is a liability to America and her safety which causes Peter to want to spew venom. A liability to America and a danger his ass, a very nice ass at that Tony had noted.

The crowds all hushed, an eerie silence casting over them like a cold blanket when James Rhodes walked in and through the people, parting them like an ocean with Moses and he does stop at Peter, giving a bow of respect. Peter smiles, tears filling his irises and dilating his pupils.

“Rhodey!” Tony calls, a light jog springing his feet forward as he places a hand onto his shoulder, a smile on his face and blush light on his cheek while he glanced at Peter.

“You ok Peter?” Tony murmurs softly, trying to keep their conversation on the down low and Peter gives an undetectable nod as he grasps his lip between his teeth.

“I’m fine…”

“Mr Rhodes, can you please read paragraph 4 on page 53.”

“You’re asking me to read specifics out of context?”

“Mhm.”

Rhodes recited the paragraph expertly and it caused Tony’s mood to go through the floor and right to the core of the Earth. Even if he didn’t believe that Rhodey would betray him like that, he was broken from his paragraph.

“Stark, you think that only you have these weapons and you are sorely wrong. Just watch this.”

The screens displayed a small base and Tony had to bite his tongue and suppress the snort that wanted to escape at the sheer humility of this. He knew that every single one of his suits was ten times more advanced and sophisticated than the other competitors that thrived for the top spot.

His fingers furiously tapped and swiped on his dependable phone and he searched for the file that he required, smirking to himself when he held up the device to the screens, hacking into them.

Peter looked at the screens, about to stand up to put his leash back on Tony to control him and to make him heel like a good boy, but he hesitated for a second when he saw the makeshift suits that were practically mocking and imitating Tony’s red and gold suits.

“I believe that’s North Korea,” Tony mumbles, swiping left as if to marry up the screen and the phone as a different area appeared on the screen, “That’s Iran.”

The Congress looked at each other as their web of lies tore apart at the seams that had been cleverly weaved and Tony smirked softly when Justin Hammer’s failed attempt came onto the screen.

“Justin look you’re on Tv, God you look a mess.”

Tony smirked, turning to look at Peter as chaos erupted around them and Peter was the only stable thing he could rely on in his life as chaos was the thing that couldn’t touch them. Peter smiled softly and nodded at him, his eyes alight with a flare.

“America is safe with me! I have, and will, protect her! So, good luck Congress!”

“Fuck you Mr Stark, fuck you.” Tony simply stood, grabbing his glasses and slipping them onto his face, blowing a pseudo kiss to the Congressmen before spinning himself towards the cameras, his arm shooting out to yank Peter to his strong chest by his waist, but he didn’t. God he wanted to though.

“So, i will continue to serve this nation for the safety of others at my own pleasure. And if there’s one thing you know about me, it’s that you can always count on me to pleasure myself.”

**

God, Peter’s life had been tossed into a blender and mixed into a mysterious, dangerous and almost bittersweet smoothie that he wasn’t sure he wanted more than one serving of.

“Anthony Edward Stark, i’m gonna-” “Wait, back up you’re not allowed in my lab.” “Are you fucking kidding me? You sold-”

“Hush Peter, give me a minute.”

“A minute? I want a one second break but i don’t fucking get one-” “Ok, all i can tell is that you are pissed off about something.” “You sold our entire art collection to the-..the-”

“Boy scouts of America.”

“Yeah, that!” “And for the record, it was my art collection.” “No, i think i have the right to call it our collection seeing as it took me 5 years to collect everything.”

“Yeah yeah i know Peter, and i am thankful for that.” Tony implores, looking over at him with gleaming chocolate eyes that admire his curvy hourglass figure that he craves.

“You know there are about 8000 things for me to talk to you abou-”

“Oh look at this.” Tony diverts Peter’s fury, trying to take the already sweltering heat of the hellfire that was an irate brunette Peter. He had to admit, his boner was getting harder steadily.

“Tony, i am not talking about your fan art now-”

“I’m hanging this up.”

“Not where the Tom f-”

“Yep.”

Tony carries a portrait of him in his armour over to his small kitchen, his muscly and strong arm giving one full sweep of the marble table to clear it while he hoists himself up, hanging up said portrait while Peter looks up at him with his arms out in exasperation.

“You’re company is in disarray!” 

“Are you kidding me? The stocks are better than they ever have been!”

“Someone needs to manage your company and you aren't! You’re too busy being Iron Man!”

Tony hopped down from his desk, his contemplation finally over as he decided on the decision that could really mess up his chances with Peter, or make them reality.

“I’m trying to make you CEO.”

Peter froze. His lip quivered and he shook softly, his eyes searching into Tony’s to fetch whether they were in a indistinctness of scotch and it was all a drunken aberration. When he couldn’t find anything with his flashlight of wisdom, he had to ask.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Only chlorophyl. Peter, i’ve been thinking about this for a long time now.”

Tony walked over to Dum E who was holding a tray with champagne on it like a waiter and he extended his claw to the Iron Hero who gratefully took it and poured two glasses.

“I thought that there would be legal issues about my successor, but nope. It’s you Peter, it’s always been you.”

Peter began to feel his throat clog with sobs that were desperate to break past his lips and he bit his lip hard while he lowered himself down into the love seat. Tony walked over and sat down swiftly next to him, handing him a glass of champagne.

“I-i don’t know what to think!” Peter laughs, trying to conceal his shock and utter love that multiplied ten fold for the Stark, who gave a smirk and inched his face closer as if to kiss him but instead he simply smirked.

“Don’t think, just drink Peter doll.”

Peter smiled widely, tears finally leaking from his eyes as he clinked his and Tony’s glasses together before sipping as if to seal the deal, and to taste just a bit of Tony seeing as Tony had handed him his champagne. Tony drank too, staring at the brunette with utter lust.

He just wanted him, craved him and needed him.

**

Tony coughed, the overcrowding getting autocratic for him while he held onto Peter’s elbow. A lot of things had occurred to Tony in the time that he had made Peter his CEO, and it was something that he was trying to keep the brunette from knowing anything about.

Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D had sent Natalia to become Peter’s assistant to keep him out of as much danger as possible while still helping Tony out with his superhero double life, but she was playing her part better than any oscar winning actors that Tony had ever heard of.

They were at a dinner of sorts, not that Tony particularly wanted to be there, he had other things on his mind like going in his race car that he had owned for 7 years and used it only to gather dust with, but here he was leading his brand new CEO through the crowds. Peter looked stunning, as ever. He was wrapped in a blue dress that hugged his curves in the best possible ways and fuck that ass though, Tony thought. 

Tony linked their arms together so he wasn’t left adrift in the ocean of people which was making him sea sick already. Peter doesn’t flinch, instead smiles for the camera and leans into Tony’s strong and stable touch.

“Smile for the camera, doll face.” Tony murmured, his teeth tightly closed together in a forced and strained smile and Peter did the same to talk back to him like the snarky bastard he was.

“Yeah, well i wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t forced me to be here.”

“Forced you? Ye-”

“How was your flight Mr Stark?” Natasha butted in, sensing the sexual tension between the two was as bad as the rising sea levels that were occurring. Tony nods softly.

“Very nice indeed Natalia, what have me and Peter got on the board?” “You have a 9:30pm dinner.” “Good, i’ll be there at 11pm.”

“Ok then Mr Sta-”

“Is this our table?” Tony pointed to a sunlit corner table that would bring out Peter’s features gorgeously and would make his smile even more heavenly to Tony. Natasha just nods.

“It can be.”

“Ok good, thank you.”

“Mr Musk, a pleasure.” Peter drawled softly, his luminous with lipgloss lips spreading into a microscopic smile at the man and before Tony could toss a bucket of water on the spark of jealously, it had metastasised into a full fire that was coursing through his veins as well as toxicity from his arc.

“Ah, Elon Musk. Pleasure, loved your idea, ok bye.” Tony rushed as if his words were competing in a marathon with his body that was yanking harshly on Peter’s elbow to drag him away, which he successfully did and made his way over to the bar.

Peter’s stilettos clicked while he walked, his arm linked into Tony’s as they leaned against the mahogany bar table. Peter was jealous too, Natasha was way prettier than him and he couldn’t help but think that Tony had a hard on for her. 

“Sorry about dragging you here, i should have-” “Is that Tony Stark?” The annoying, just as headache inducing as a real hammer, Justin Hammer drawled as a hot young blonde accompanied him as if to give Peter a showdown for best slut. Tony bites his tongue hard, pulling Peter to his body a bit closer as if worried Hammer would snatch him away.

“My least favourite person, Justin Hammer.” 

Peter just coughs to mask the giggle that escaped his lips, making up the excuse that he had a cold and that he was extremely sorry and the billionaire could see straight through the lie, but Hammer thankfully couldn’t.

“So, am i allowed a spot at the expo then?” “When you make something that actually works then i’ll give you a spot.”

Peter sat at the corner table, and Tony was right. It had brought out his smile to be more gorgeous than the Iron hero had ever imagined, more beautiful was his glimmering hair that had stubborn little strands that wouldn’t fall into line, and oh how breathtaking was his eyes holding the beams of the sun captive and using them against Tony to make him fall impossibly deeper in love.

“Blood toxicity 47%” 

Tony stared at himself in the mirror and just let himself stop and think about others; What would his company be like if he didn’t come up with a solution? What would Happy do? What would Peter do without him?

He nodded softly to himself and looked at his own chocolate eyes. “Any more crazy ideas, Tony?”

**

The sun was illuminating the floor of the Stark jet, they were on their way home and Tony definitely did not want to go home. He may have wrecked his home, may have had a fight with Rhodes, but overall he had spent more time with Peter and that outweighed everything.

Peter was tightly buckled to his seat, wary of aircrafts ever since his parents’ death on one, but he didn’t dwell on it much. He was watching the news, his leg crossed over the other and the grey straight skirt he always wore when he meant business was hugging his knees securely.

Tony was standing at the doorway to the seating area, a small plate in his hand that he had poured over for 3 hours to try and make Peter a meal fit for a princess. The media was currently despising Tony, and that then spread to Peter who was one of the only ones who had not betrayed him or lost faith in him.

“And in other news, Tony Stark has-”

“Mute.” Tony called for Jarvis to mute, not wanting Peter to stress about anything more than what he already had on his crammed plate. Peter didn’t react except for a small head bow down to his lap and a little lip nibble, but he just gave a tiny smile to Tony when he sat across from him and set the plate on the table.

“What is that?” “You’re in-flight meal.”

“Did you just make that?”

“Where do you think i’ve been for the past three hours?”

Peter smiles softly. The meal looked completely repugnant, but seeing as Tony made it for him he absolutely adored it even with it’s undesirable appearance.

“Thank you Tony…I can tell something’s bothering you, what’s up?” Peter queries gently, he doesn’t want to startle Tony and make the scared man crawl back into his protective bubble in which no one could penetrate. 

“I don’t wanna go home.” Tony admits softly while his chocolate eyes gaze over at his brunette stunner.

“Tony…”

“Peter, i’m serious…Let’s go back, relax.” “Tony, i’m CEO i can’t just up and leave.” “As CEO, you’re entitled to a bit of leave.”

“A leave? With everything going on?”

“Well yeah, it gives us time to rethink our plans and recharge our batteries.”

“Not everybody runs on batteries, Tony.” The two locked gazes, Peter’s honey eyes subduing underneath Tony’s heavier and more dominant chocolate eyes as they gave each other sombre smiles. Neither of them wanted it to go back to the way it was; business and nothing else. But, Tony wanted it to be so much more and he was starting to believe that Peter wanted it too.

**

The expo was up in flames, it was all going wrong and to say that Peter was perturbed was an understatement. He was stuck with Natalia, who’s name he had learned was actually a fucking Russian assassin, but she was insisting that she would go to Hammer’s facility and take care of the drones there.

Tony was in complete and utter chaos, it consumed him and ravaged at him, tearing him down and then giving him the adrenaline to continue fighting against the Hammer drones. He knew he hated Justin for a reason. But Peter, Tony was in a hysteria about him. He didn’t have the armour he had, he didn’t have protection apart from Natasha who was preoccupied with Happy at Hammer’s building. Rhodes was by his side in War Machine, but Peter was no where to be seen and he could feel his arc skip beats.

Peter’s stilettos clicked as fast as a cheetah ran, he was desperate to get up to the technicians and ask just what the hell was going on, and that he was tell them exactly where to shove it if they couldn’t save Tony. He slapped the head of the main technician hard before leaning over his shoulder like a dark shadow that threatened to strike.

“What the fuck is happening? You get me all the details now, hack into those drones and decipher the code their using, then use the same code to shut them down.” “Yes boss.” Peter looked at the window, screaming loudly as glass shattered from a direct collision with Tony Stark, who simply recovered and flew off, and if Peter wasn’t already irate enough, when Justin smirked he was livid. He felt his hand whip harshly against Justin’s cheek before his brain even woke it’s self up from it’s panicked sleep paralysis. He ran to the window, gazing out and feeling his knees go week whenever he saw Tony.

There was no point in hiding his attraction to him anymore, he was just now worried for his safety and that they would both make it out of there, live to tell the tale and finally end the beautiful dance that had them positioned an arms length apart for their ballet to work. It was finally drawing to curtain.

“Tony!” Peter heard screamed, he couldn’t even tell if it was him in all of the confusion, he was sure it was however as he ran back to the technician, “What have you got so far?” “There all programmed in different ways, different languages.” “Use the main one, deactivate as many as you can.”

Tony and Rhodes do it, of course with the help of Natasha, Happy and definitely Peter who had apprehended Justin Hammer and handed him over to Natasha whom had taken him away quickly.

One little blip still remained on the radar. The Hammer drones were set to blow, their objective to blow the Stark expo to fragments and erase it from America’s memory.

“Tones, these things are gonna blow.” “Peter…” Was the first whisper from the Iron Hero, fuck the people, fuck his expo. If there was one thing that he needed to save from his expo, it was his Peter. The paths or smoke diverged onto different paths, one heading up to the stars to fly away and run, the other bolting to the right sharply, the dangerous path, the path to life.

Peter was standing stationary by the entrance of Stark expo, something he had put his whole life into making perfect for Tony, and on the floor there laid a wrecked and dismantled Hammer drone that was pulsating with a blinking light as red as blood. Peter looked over confused, his brows furrowing softly as if they were digging down his features.

“What the-” 

Metal boots clanked hazily next to him, heat swarming around his ankles from the deactivated boosters and a strong arm wrapped around his curved waist, yanking him upwards to try and catch up to his skyrocketing heart. Tony flew upwards expeditiously, holding the brunette CEO to his chest while he bolted out of the general vicinity, flying to a nearby roof while explosions billowed in his wake.

Tony set down gently, still holding Peter while his suit twitched as though it had been personally burned while his suits wires cackled and sparkled. Peter squealed, his legs almost giving way from the stress while he shoved Tony backwards hard, pissed off, angry and fuck so scared and in love. Tony ripped his helmet off, throwing it to the side.

“Oh my God, i can’t take this anymore!” Peter whimpered out almost pitifully, tears pouring down his cheeks at the thought of having to leave his boss, but his body was starting to go into stress induced shut down.

“What do you mean you can’t?” “I can’t take this!” “I mean look at me!” “I literally cannot handle the stress! I never know if you’re gonna,” he swallowed thickly to try and hold up his stance against the tears that were threatening to spill again, “get yourself killed or wreck the whole company!”

“Hey, i think i did ok!” As if to marry up with his statement, an explosion sounded around 50 feet away from where his gesture had pointed to.

“I-i quit, i’m resigning! That’s it.” That hit Tony like a thousand Hammer drones piled on top of each other and they had detonated at the same time onto his arc reactor. God, Tony couldn’t let Peter just walked out of his world and life like this, he had to get him back.

“What did you just say? You’re done?” Tony stepped closer, his suit obeying as he got closer to the brunette who had breathed life to his arc.

“That’s surprising, well actually it isn’t surprising, ok, i got it and you don’t have to make any excuses.”

“Listen i’m not making any excuses-” “Well, you actually were making exudes but you don’t have to-” “No i wasn’t making excuses, because i’m actually very justified and-” “You deserve better, Peter.”

“Well...” “You’ve taken such good care of me. Been in a tough spot and you got me through it. Yeah, right?” “Right, and thank you for understanding.” “No problem, now let’s talk about the clean up-” “I’ll have everything done for you Tony.”

“And about your transit-” “Yeah, but for you it’s like dog years, it’s like the President’s-” Rough lips glided over smoother ones. Tony’s lips glided over Peter’s. Their lips locked around each other, intertwining desperately and completely loved enveloped as they pressed onto the others. Tony held Peter’s waist, something he had craved to do for a long while, and just kissed him. He hoped this was enough to make the brunette stay with him, he needed it to be enough. Peter kissed back, his hands finding their resting place on his chest, cupping his arc reactor.

“Weird?” Tony queries as their lips finally part, and Peter pants softly, looking up at him and cupping his cheek with his thumb gliding gently over his ear.

“No, i don’t think it’s weird…” Peter can only whisper as he inches his face closer again, ready to dive head first into another sweet and love filled kiss and Tony followed his lead. “Good, run that by me again.” Tony murmurs while yanking him fully closer and up to his lips so that they connected again in another addicting kiss that made the brunette moan softly.

“Yeah, i think it’s weird.”

Their lips parted feverishly again, but their hands remained in place as the two turned to face Rhodes, Tony’s face once of anger at the disruption, and Peter’s one of embarrassment at the intrusion.

“You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape.”

“I-i just quit.” Peter rushed to defend himself and Tony nodded softly with his arms still around his waist and hugging him to his chest as if to protect him from the outside world.

“You two don’t even need to pretend, i heard it all.” “You should get lost.” Tony chimed in, pointing an accusing finger at Rhodes who had to stifle the chuckle that wanted to escape his lips.

“I was here first, you two should get a roof.”

“I thought you had a one liner.” “That was the last one.”

“You kicked ass back there by the way.” “Thank you, you too. Listen, my car got taken out in the explosion so i;m gonna have to hang on to your suit for a while.”

“Not ok, not ok.”

“Wasn’t a question.”

Tony held Peter tight as Rhodes became air born and flew off speedily, and it caused Tony to give a small chuckle before he turned to Peter and held his hands tight.

“How you gonna resign hm?”

**

Tony gave Fury a look as he stood up and looked at him, a tiny smile spreading across his lips while he nodded.

“Listen, i’m trying to do right by Peter, we’re in a relationship.”

“I got that, but we think it’s best for you to be a consultant.” “Ok, but can i ask for a small favour?”

“Shoot.” Tony smirked as the Congressman presented his honour, oh it was such a lovely dose of karma that Tony had induced but yet only one thing remained on his mind as he beckoned his beloved onto the stage with him.

“My darling, how about you stand right here?” Tony husked, tucking Peter into his waist and kissing him deeply in front of every single paparazzi he could see, and Peter cupped his cheek while kissing back softly with a smile plastered on his face.

“Alright, pictures!”

[weartirondad]

Sometimes Home Is A Mess

Prompt: “Please don’t leave me, I can’t do this without you.”“(With bby Peter and Tony) The Avengers are paroned from the according and return to the tower but haven't really asked for forgiveness. Baby Peter remembers days his dad returning with a limp and dent heart. Peter being a little genius connect the dots is now clinging to his father he felt he could have lost. Seeing the avengers gives no only Tony anxiety but to Peter as well. He scream and cries when he's so much a inch away from his farther heart. begging him not to go or leave his side.” (Anon)

A/N: Set after You Made Me A Believer. You don’t hafta read it together but you could.  Also check out this amazing song Home - by Stefanie Heinzmann 

Summary:  When the Avengers break apart, Tony is tired and worn and broken but Peter is there and it helps. -- When the Avengers get pardoned a year later because the world decides they need their heroes back Tony is worn from the fights he fought to get them there and Peter is still there.

FF.net I ao3 

--

There’s a dull ache behind his temple when his fuzzy mind clambers back into consciousness and a throbbing pain sits right behind his sternum. The feeling of his chest split open and his every muscle battered and bruised is a distressingly familiar one and for the briefest of moments the air around him feels too humid and dirty.

He can taste the blood and the sweat and smells the burned flesh and metal. He hears the crunching of sand between his teeth when he moves his jaw. He sees red and feels cold.

He’s not there, though, he knows that. Knows it by the way his ribs are cracked in a meticulously designed half-oval and by the memories he can’t push away.

His near death experience years ago in that cave in Afghanistan feels small, manageable, compared to the new betrayal. The new incision cut open scar tissue he’s been trying his hardest to forget but it’s different this time, somehow, more personal.

A humorless laugh slips past his dry lips at the thought of something being more personal than what Obie did to him and soon after he starts coughing, wincing when each and every fiber of his body is cataloging more pain until he feels it’s all he is.

“Jar?”

The name is out before he can think better of it and when it is – warm and familiar and soothing on his tongue – the wrong voice replies, hesitant in a way JARVIS wouldn’t have been. But Jarvis is Vision now and doesn’t have to answer to him anymore – not like that at least. Just another soul slipping from his desperate fingers that are always searching for a meaning, closeness, a family.

“You seem agitated, boss. Do you want me to call for help?”

He wants to scoff at the notion but thinks better of it, eyes still closed, mouth still dry.

“No,” he croaks out eventually because he doesn’t want help – doesn’t deserve it either. If he has to keep living, he wants to do it like this – in darkness and alone. He wants to embrace the shadows that have been hovering at his doorstep for as long as he can remember.

Some famous dead guy once said ‘We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone.’ and that’s exactly what he wants to do. Somewhere without the hurt, the constant betrayal and disappointment. He just wants peace.

That's all he’s ever wanted.

It’s all he’ll never get.

When F.R.I.D.A.Y. stays quiet he feels tears burn in his eyes. JARVIS would’ve ignored his orders.

He’s close to drifting off again when a small commotion startles him awake – survival instinct kicking in, even in a tower better secured than Fort Knox he’s always alert, always expecting something to attack.

This particular assault, though, makes his heart lighter and his muscles relax for the first time since… since that bunker probably. Since that god forsaken video.

“Peter is here to see you, boss, he asks if you’re up.” The AI’s voice is fond and it eases the pain of missing his old friend. F.R.I.D.A.Y. and Peter are getting along. Peter loves the Irish voice and the way she’s coded. To him she’s family just like Vision is.

“Let him in.”

It’s only been a few months since that fatal shooting that lead him to the boy and his aunt but ever since then they have taken up such a huge part of his life that he can’t remember a time when he didn’t have a kid running through his living room, dropping pens and paper and Lego everywhere.

When Peter is there, every corner of the empty tower is filled with life and laughter and love. He drives the ghosts and memories away, replaces them with new ones – better ones, purer ones – without realizing what he’s doing.

The squirt comes barreling into the room, arms clutching a lime green notebook to his chest, eyes twinkling and lips moving with rambles Tony’s dazed mind doesn’t quite catch.

He is young. He is life. He is hope.

He is everything Tony isn’t.                                                          

But then he stops and takes him in and his mouth slams shut, the audible click of his teeth like a gunshot in the sterile room. The smile in his eyes drains like a plug being pulled and there’s something wary in them now – a mind trapped in a memory – and there’s fear and hesitation.

“Tony?” he asks, voice eons away from the happy one he craves to hear. “Wha – What happened?”

Peter doesn’t drop the notebook like Tony might have. Instead he clutches it more tightly to his chest when he slowly steps closer to the bed, entire posture guarded and tense, ready to bolt at any second but not really wanting to.

“I,” he sighs because he hates lying and then tries not to wince which goes less than successful, “I got into a fight,” is what he settles on but he can see by the frown forming on Peter’s forehead that he’s suspicious. “You know how the super hero life goes – criminals don’t like being stopped.”

It’s a pathetic attempt at a joke and he knows that even with six years Peter can see right through his façade. Damn this kid and his emotional intelligence.

“Normal criminals don’t get that close,” he retorts quietly and then adds, voice dropping: “Pepper said you went out to help Captain America.”

Ah. Well, that’s just unfortunate.

“I did.”

“He hurt you.”

“Maybe I hurt him too.”

That makes the boy pause and look down, gaze stopping on his bruised hand that is connected to an IV stand next to his bed. Somehow, when he looks up again he looks older.

“Mister Vision had to fly out to get you back. If Captain America was that hurt he would’ve brought him back, too.”

Tony hates the matter of fact way he says it and the distrust that swings in his voice when speaking about one of his child hood heroes. He wants to take it all away but he finds that he’s too worn to lie, too tired to comfort, so he does what he does best and deflects.

“I thought you didn’t like hospitals.”

Peter shrugs like it’s not a big deal but his knuckles are turning white with the force he uses to clutch his notebook and when he mumbles a reply he doesn’t meet his eyes, “’S not a real hospital. ‘S like home. I was –“ He breaks off blushing and voice small when he finally looks at him again, “Are you okay?”

A small smile graces Tony’s lips and, to his utmost surprise, it doesn’t feel fake. He likes it when Peter calls the tower home. It feels like a spark of hope that it might be one again one day.

“I’m better now that I’ve got my favorite person in the whole world around to blow kisses on my booboos,” he grins and scoots over to make room on his bed for Peter.

It’s what they usually do when he gets back from a mission and is resting on the couch or his bed and Peter doesn’t waste another second to comply, jumping up and nestling into his side like a cat like he always does.

Like clockwork Tony’s arm winds around the boy’s back despite the pain the movement elicits and Peter leans forward to receive the usual kiss to the top of his head. When he leans back to scrutinize Tony his nose is adorably scrunched up and he looks slightly indignant. “Y’ know, booboo is a baby word and I’m a big boy.”

“Oh, you’re a big boy now, are you?” The offended puppy eyes melt away the last of the Siberian ice and he yields to the little boy. “Okay, okay. You’re a big boy,” he acquiesces, “So what kind of big boy stuff have you been up to while I was gone?”

Peter jumps right into it, pulling up his notebook and showing him how he has been practicing writing cursive. It became a thing just before Peter started school in summer that Tony would start to teach him the art of cursive writing. The moment he saw May’s awful handwriting for the first time he knew he couldn’t let the poor boy learn on that alone, so he took it upon himself to coach him on the intricacies of it.

Despite popular belief he actually loved writing things by hand and he had a good handwriting – it was just impractical most of the time and when did he ever do things for fun?  

The kid is still flicking through his book looking for a particular page when Tony startles both of them with a laugh.

“Did you,” he snorts and blinks away the moisture in his eyes that he’s not sure comes from the pain or the laughter, “Did you really write my name on there? C’mere, show me that!”

The hand not holding Peter in place tugs the book out of his hands and flicks to the side where he had painted a big Iron Man helmet and had written his superhero’s persona’s name next to it for Peter to practice writing the capital I. Peter, being Peter, though had decided to defy him on all accounts and had written his name – Anthony Edward Stark – over and over until the page was full. Ending on a half- finished Anthony Edw –

The writing is shaky and awkward because some of the letters they haven’t even practiced yet but all of them are correct and in that moment Tony loves Peter more than he could ever put into words, more than he ever thought he could love someone and he laughs again and this time he knows the tears are from both the pain of what he’s lost and from the bliss – the future – he’s holding in his arms.

“You think you’re being really funny, don’t ya?”

Peter scoffs and sticks his tongue out at him. “I am funny.”

Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

“I really love you buddy, you know that?”

“’Course I do. You tell me all the time.”

 -.-

When the Avengers get pardoned a year later because the world decides they need their heroes back Tony is worn from the fights he fought to get them there.

He’s scared and anxious and angry but when he steps out into the penthouse Peter is sitting there – the picture of a content child – working on a LEGO set Tony is sure is above his age range and his inner storm calms when he approaches and sits down cross-legged next to him, watching him align the pieces carefully and with his tongue tucked between his teeth.

Maybe it’s selfish to break him out of his concentration, maybe he should just let him be but he needs Peter’s strength right now, needs his smile to build up his own because he’s tired and he’s wary and he needs to be reminded what he’s doing all this for.

“Hey bud,” he greets him with a hair ruffle and presses a kiss to the top of his head, lingering an instant longer than he normally would to breathe in the familiar scent. It’s home and it’s safe and it’s wonderful.

“Whataya up to?”

Peter beams up at him and somehow it makes his heart lighter and heavier at the same time. “May got me an AT-AP Walker Set! Pepper promised to help me build it but Morgan was hungry and I think she pooped herself,” he sniffs as if thinking back to a truly awful memory and Tony can’t help the smile forming on his lips. “Do you wanna help, too?”

“I would love to,” he sighs dramatically and leans back against the couch, watching Peter with a lazy smile. When he’s here like this he can almost forget what comes after. “But I still got an important meeting in, uh, five minutes and just wanted to drop by to, uh, say hi.”

Almost.

Slowly Peter puts down the grey bricks he has been working on and eyes him critically. “You never come home early when you still have a meeting,” he notes, “Unless you’re not going to the meeting but I think Pepper’d be mad if it’s important.”

“Shush,” he rolls his eyes and reaches out again to ruffle his hair. A part of him just wants to hold his boy close and never let go but the bigger part doesn’t want to worry him and to keep him as far away from all of this as possible. Which might not be very far for long.

“I promise I’m going. I just wanted to see something cute before I spend the next few hours with all these boring old folks.”

“I’m not cute,” the squirt quips back and goes back to sorting his bricks, “Morgan is cute. I’m –“

“Yeah, you’re what, Petey? Adorable? Precious? As sweet as the marshmallow fluff that’s giving you cavity? Delightful, maybe? Or what about-“

Suddenly his mouth his covered by a small sweaty hand and he can see how Peter is trying to be serious but he’s failing to suppress a giggle. “I’m not cute.”

Seizing the opportunity he tackles the kid into a hug and holds him close, “Okay, whatever buddy,” he breathes into his hair, “You know I love you, right?”

Soft curls tickle his nose when Peter nods dutifully and he knows he has to leave soon, knows he’s already running late and he can’t be – not for this. But suddenly letting go is so much harder than just getting his muscles to release the small body. The conference room suddenly seems so much farther away than just two stories down, it feels like they’re worlds apart and he likes this one better.

“Steve Rogers is requesting entry to the penthouse,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts his musings and just like that he feels Peter freeze in his hold and look up at him, eyes wide and betrayed and scared.

“What’s he doing here?” he demands, “What does he want? Why’d you let him in? Wh –“ Then, suddenly, he stills and glares, pushing away from Tony’s grasp and crossing his arms in front of his chest in a way that looks less like defiance and more like he’s shielding himself.  

“He’s your meeting, isn’t he?” he all but spits out and it sounds like the ultimate betrayal. His voice is shaking with anger and his doe eyes, usually soft and loving, are as closed off as Tony has ever seen them.

He pushes himself up to sit on the couch instead of on the ground so they’re eye-level and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Without looking away from Peter, he raises his voice to talk to his AI.

“Tell him access denied and I’ll be with them in just a sec.”

“Them,” Peter narrows his eyes, “Who’s them?”

“The Avengers, Peter, I’m sure you’ve heard of them,” he retorts and immediately feels guilty when there’s a flash of hurt in his eyes. He sighs, head hanging, “Look, I’m sorry, Pete. I’m –“

Before he can decide on what to say, he’s being interrupted, something Peter rarely does and never when it’s important but the boy in front of him who dropped his arms and has his hands clenched to fists, shaking with fury isn’t the boy he usually deals with.

“Why are they here?”

“To talk.”

He wants to walk over to him and take him in his arms again to stop him from shaking like a leaf but he doesn’t want to tower over him, doesn’t want to crouch to be on his level either. This conversation is important and he knows he needs to stay put for now.

“The world needs the Avengers, Pete. We need them to protect the world. I need them to protect Morgan and – and to protect you. To protect my fa-“

“NO!” He all but screams and it has Tony mentally take a step back and stare when he’s stomping his foot and pulling his hair.

“No! No, no, no, no, no. NO!” he yells again, “I don’t need them! We – We don’t need them. We have you!” He scowls angrily. “You’re – You’re Iron Man! And they – I don’t trust them! I hate them! I want them to – I want them to go! Tell them to go away!”

Now, without trying to be braggadocios, Tony would say after helping raise Peter for almost two years and having a toddler of his own he has a pretty good grip on the whole parenting thing but – for fuck’s sake – he’s had it easy so far and never really had to deal with an actual tantrum before.

Sure, Morgan fusses and cries and wails like the world is ending sometimes but a four-month-old tantrum is much different from Peter having a meltdown in front of him. Peter, the most well behaved boy on the planet who rather screams into his pillow than at people and who, for reasons he tries not to dwell on, never ever pushes May or him away in fear of pushing too far and losing too much.

Peter is a good kid. Sometimes he’s angry, sometimes he’s sad and sometimes he has so many emotions he doesn’t know how to deal with that he shuts down but the last time Tony has seen him this helplessly angry was the night he found him in a dark alleyway bend over his uncle’s dead body.

The entirety of his small body seems to be filled with rage. He’s trembling with it, overflowing with fury and what looks like something that’s much too close to hatred for Tony to ever want to see it in his boy’s eyes ever again.

He remembers the first time he had to calm him down, remembers the blood and the pain and the harsh light of the streetlamps and he hates it. Hates the Rogues for making Peter feel that way again more than he hates them for leaving in the first place.

“Kiddo,” he murmurs and slides down from the couch, sitting cross legged and with open arms in front of the shaking kid. He doesn’t scoot closer even though he wants to and tries to beckon him towards him with his voice alone. “They won’t hurt you, I promise. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

“But they hurt you.” Peter hasn’t moved yet but his voice has dropped a few pitches and some of the anger is seeping out of his shoulder. Tony would only count it as a half-win, though, when it’s instantly replaced by sadness and fear. Those he knows how to deal with at least.

“I don’t want them to hurt you again,” he whispers, taking a timid step forward and letting Tony reach for his hands that are hanging listlessly by his side. He watches him uncurl them quietly and when he looks up to meet his gaze again there are tears running down his cheeks. “You have to take care,” he demands reverently and takes another step forward, dropping into Tony’s lap and throwing his arms around the older man’s neck.

“You have to take care and come back,” he presses into his collarbone, “You can’t – Please don’t leave me all alone. I only have May and you and I can’t do this without you. I can’t. You have to promise!”

Oh Peter.

Tony pulls the small boy impossibly closer, rubbing a hand over his back and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I promise I’ll always come back home to you, kiddo.”

And maybe that’s an unfair promise to make when he can’t ever be sure he’ll be able to keep it. Maybe lying makes him a bad parent. But right now he has his kid crying into his t-shirt and he’d do anything to make it better and so he promises himself that he’ll always do his best and fight his hardest to make sure he’ll always be there to make it better.

[dailyironfamily]

day 24 - angel/demon au

Day twenty-four of the November Fic Challenge is an angel/demon AU! Featuring angel Rhodey, demon Pepper, and human Tony. This was another one of those ‘big idea’ fics shoved into a small word count but I tried my best.

James never wanted to be a guardian angel. Nearly double the workload and none of the recognition? Who would want that? But it’s not very angelic to complain about an assignment, so he did as he was told, went to Earth and began watching over one Anthony Edward Stark. And oh boy was his work cut out for him there.

It was a little odd that Stark didn’t get assigned a guardian angel until he was almost forty, but then not everyone even got one, so he figures Stark must be someone important now. Son of a famous industrialist, and famous in his own right, Stark had survived a kidnapping and near-death experience only to come home and become some sort of superhero vigilante.

James sighs and closes the file he’d been reading. What did he say? Double the workload and none of the recognition. He spends his first two days on the job trying to stop a madman in a giant metal suit from murdering his charge, for crying out loud.

And then she shows up.

“Oh, no,” he says when he sees her lounging on the couch outside the room where Stark’s press conference is about to happen. “You are the last thing I need to deal with right now. Please go.”

“Oh, no problem, I’ll just leave now,” she says cheerfully, and doesn’t move.

James sighs. “At least I tried.”

Pepper sits up on the couch, crossing her legs. “It’s been decades, James, you could be nicer.”

“I think I’m contractually obligated not to be nice to you.”

“I think you’re obligated to be nice to everyone. Even me.” She smiles at him, tail flicking out behind her, and preens her wings slightly, dark feathers almost inky in the bright fluorescent lights.

“Put all that away, no one can see us,” he complains. “What are you doing here?”

She gives him a look, but the wings and tail vanish. “What do you think?” She looks over at where Stark is reviewing the cards SHIELD prepared for him, and James’s eyes go wide.

“Don’t you dare. You’re just going to make trouble for him.”

Pepper gets up, stepping closer to James, who takes a step back. “That’s kind of my job.”

“He almost died, maybe even would’ve if it wasn’t for me. Cut him some sl―” He stops, a terrible realization coming over him. “You’re not Stane’s, are you?”

Pepper scowls at him, temper darkening her eyes for a brief moment. “As if I would ever. That kind of man’s not my department.”

“And Stark is?”

“You have your job, I have mine. Let’s play nice, okay?” She waves politely, then vanishes.

Across the room, Stark tucks the cards into his suit jacket and stands as the SHIELD agent approaches and tells him he’s on in five. James sticks close to him the whole way to the podium, keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings, but he doesn’t see Pepper again.

Then Stark sets down the cards and says “I am Iron Man” to a room full of reporters, and James knows he’s lost the first round.

Tony Stark is dying. James watches over him and guides his hand, but without directly intervening, there’s nothing he can do.

“Just cure him,” Pepper says, sipping a smoothie through a straw. She’s wearing sunglasses and the world’s most obnoxious hat with feathers, like she’s at some fancy British horse-racing track and not the Monaco Grand Prix.

“I can’t just cure him,” James snaps, already angry at her. Five minutes ago Stark decided he wanted to drive his own car in the race, and James knows exactly whose fault that is.

“What’s the point of having a guardian angel, then?”

“The point is to make sure he doesn’t go getting into dangerous race cars that could kill him!”

“Oh, well you’re doing a poor job of it so far.”

James grits his teeth and leaves before he says something unbecoming of a guardian angel.

Then everything goes to hell.

Stark’s car flips, attacked by the man with the electric whips, and James swoops in to pull him unharmed from the wreckage. Stark’s on shaky legs as he climbs out of the car, a little bit of blood on his face but otherwise untouched. And he’s staring right at James like he can see him, bright white wings and all.

A whip comes slamming down between them, crackling as it hits the car, and Stark jumps away, the moment broken. James deflects the hits, shielding Stark, who stumbles to the ground. James raises his hand, ready to deflect again, but out of nowhere a car crashes into the man with the whips. Stark’s bodyguard gets out, holding a briefcase, and Pepper steps out the other door.

“What are you doing?” he nearly shouts at Pepper while Stark grabs the briefcase and puts on a suit. “Don’t tell me this is your guy.” He points at their attacker, who is somehow not unconscious after being hit by a car.

“He’s not mine! I brought Happy.”

James has no idea why she’d help them like that, but he’s not about to argue now. Stark throws himself back into the fight, and James urges Happy to get to safety. The fight ends shortly after that, Stark crushing the knockoff arc reactor in one fist, and James sighs.

He looks around for Pepper after that, but she’s nowhere in sight.

Stark’s birthday party is a catastrophe waiting to happen. James spends half the time just making sure nobody dies of alcohol poisoning, and the other half watching over Stark. He leaves Stark alone for one minute and comes back to find Pepper with an arm draped around his shoulder, whispering into his ear.

“What did I ever do to you?” he cries as Stark wanders off. “Why are you so intent on making sure the guy I have to protect dies!”

“Because you’d be better off if he did!”

James stares at her, stunned. Around them the party continues on, oblivious.

“Do you know what happened to his original guardian?” Pepper goes on, when James doesn’t say anything. “He got himself killed in that cave in Afghanistan, protecting Stark. That man is bad news, James. You’re better off without him.”

James doesn’t say anything for a long moment after that, then―

“I think he saw me on the race track. In Monaco.”

Pepper recoils, clearly not expecting that response. “What?”

“He looked right at me, Pep. It was eerie.”

“Great. First Yinsen, now you.” She stalks over to the bar and grabs a drink, which vanishes from human sight as she picks it up. “He’s going to get you killed, James. Yinsen got too attached and look what happened.”

“Why do you even care?” James asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who even knows,” she mutters, sipping at her drink. “I’m losing my mind.”

James goes over to lean against the bar beside her. “I think you like me.”

“What? Ew. No.”

“You do! Why else would you be trying to get rid of my supposedly cursed danger magnet ward?”

“Uh, because I’m a demon and that’s what we do?”

“How about this,” he says, ignoring her. “What if you tried helping me keep him alive?”

Pepper frowns. “Why would I want to do that?”

“That way nobody has to die.”

“My way’s easier,” she mutters, but she doesn’t say anything else about the matter as she drains the rest of her drink.

As the party ends in the wee hours of the morning, James finds Stark face down on the ground, still in the armor, either asleep or unconscious. Pepper walks up behind him, making a face when she sees Stark.

“I know someone who can help,” she says after a moment, hands on her hips. “Give me a couple hours to find him.”

So Stark doesn’t die, at least not from the palladium poisoning. It’s a close thing with Hammer and Vanko, but with Pepper actually on his side this time somehow Stark manages to scrape by. The uneasy truce she and James have seems to be doing some good for Stark, who opens Stark Tower in New York and pioneers his reactor energy tech.

And then aliens show up. (One of them can see him, and he compliments James’s wings before James can get him to shut up. Stark watches the exchange suspiciously, though James thinks Stark just assumes Thor is kind of nuts.) But the aliens aren’t even the worst part. Stark carrying the nuke through the wormhole is.

James stares up at where Stark disappeared, and Pepper puts a hand on his shoulder. “There has to have been something I could’ve done,” he whispers, lost. “I could’ve taken the missile instead.”

“You’re the reason he was here to save the city,” Pepper says, keeping her voice gentle. “You did your job.”

“This job is bullshit!” James snaps, brushing off her hand. “What good am I if I can’t save him?”

“James―” Pepper starts, then cuts herself off, eyes wide. “James!” She points up at the wormhole, and James spins around, looking for what has Pepper so shocked.

A red and gold blur is falling from the wormhole in the sky as it closes. Without thinking, James spreads his wings and takes off.

His arms wrap around the middle of the armor, slowing its descent. Gently, he guides Stark down to the ground and sets him down. The faceplate comes off the helmet with a single touch, and then he touches a hand to Stark’s chest, over the dimmed suit reactor. Moments later, Stark takes a gasping breath, the armor shaking under James’s hand.

Stark blinks, peering up despite the sun overhead, and says, “Who the hell are you?”

James smiles, sunlight illuminating the white of his wings and making them shine. “My name’s James. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

[the-m3chanic]

who i’m not || solo

Summary: Iron Man is called to complete a routine rescue mission, saving passengers from a crashing plane. It should be easy. Unfortunately, his alter ego, Tony Stark, had been drinking when the call came in.

Tw: alcoholism, death, vomit, just a general dolloping of guilt.

-

Rhodes came over for lunch around two, pulling Tony out of the workshop and away from his very pressing repairs to Robodog, a.k.a. Buster. Over his French toast, Tony could tell that his best friend was giving him The Look. It said that he was in deep all over again, that Rhodes could tell he was so far down the rabbit hole that he was buried under the weight of everything he had forced himself to carry.

Tony asked Rhodes if he had anywhere else to go. His best friend got the hint. He mentioned something about a dinner. As Tony watched the figure retreat from the Tower, he wondered if he was on his way to eat with Potts, or any of the other Avengers, or maybe some of his old military buddies. Tony reached for his phone, scrolling down through the contacts, and by the time he reached the end of the list, he had already decided who he would be spending his night with: a bottle of the nicest bourbon this side of the Pacific, and more than a few shot glasses.

Drinking alone was something he was intimately familiar with. Since he was fifteen years old, he had locked himself away in his room and poured glass after glass after glass, before he reached the stage where his hands shook so hard he had to just gulp from the bottle, vodka trailing into his hair, leaving it sticky when he tried to wash the sins away in the shower the next morning. Before Afghanistan, he would’ve drank so much his mouth went numb. He would’ve grabbed a model on the way out, maybe a couple, and bring them back to his mansion, enthralled them with tales of his many eccentric moments, and then stumbled out of bed the moment they were done and the other person had drifted off to sleep.

Now, though, it was just him. He wasn’t going to drag anybody else into this mess. He was selfish, but he wasn’t a complete dickhead. At least, he liked to imagine he wasn’t. At that thought, he switched back to whiskey. Nothing worked quite as well, even if it did leave him smelling like a bar for his meeting the next morning. Maybe he could postpone it. Pepper could come up with some excuse for him … but that would mean her cleaning up his messes. Tony had long since relied on her for that. She had her own problems. (He was most of them.)

Ty had shown up a couple of weeks ago, left him a message on the machine that he had a letter from Tony’s mother, left to him after her death. Tony had been avoiding the meeting quite neatly, and an alien invasion, if nothing else, gave him an excuse. Nonetheless, it lingered in the back of his mind, yet another thread he had left untied, another regret he had yet to work through.

(Liquor burned as it ran down his throat, but it made his stomach warm, his heart heavy. It was a welcome distraction; the love of his life, as depressing as it was to admit.)

He had promised Jessica he would go to a meeting, or as close to promising as he allowed himself. In his heart of hearts, he never imagined he would actually go through with it, but he had. Tony found himself in the basement of a church along with a bunch of other washed up celebrities and former child stars, people who had been raised in the blinding light of fame and cameras and constant press, and he had said the words that had been sticking in his mouth since he was in college, or even before that:

“My name is Tony Stark, and I am an alcoholic.”

He said it once, and it settled on him like the earth upon Atlas’ shoulders. All the myths he had read about people holding up great and immeasurable weight suddenly made sense, suddenly grew in magnitude. His father, a man so inherently transfixed with the notion of strength, must have come to the same realisation.

Repeating it like a mantra in the mirror made it easier to detach himself from those words. I am Tony Stark, and I am an alcoholic. Tony Stark, twenty-four hours sober. Tony Stark, an hour sober. Tony Stark, a drunk. Yinsen had called it a dependency, but it was more than that. It was poison seeping through every cell in his body, poisoning his thoughts, slowing his projects to a halt.

0600 hours was when the message came through. FRIDAY brought a holographic screen in front of Tony’s face as he lay, sprawled out on the sofa. She had long since learnt not to speak when he was a litre bottle down.

MISSION REQUEST FOR STARK, ANTHONY EDWARD. RESCUE OP. PLANE ENGINES FAILED. CURRENLTY DESCENDING RAPIDLY. SEVEN PASSENGERS, PLUS THE PILOT. IMMEDIATE RESPONSE REQUIRED.

FRIDAY hummed in the walls. Clearly, she wished to give her opinion.

“Hit me with it,” Tony said, but he’d already sent word of acceptance. He pushed himself up off the sofa, and bashed his shin against the glass coffee table as he did so. “Fuck.”

“Boss, this mission has a 19% chance of success.”

“Higher than most.” His words were slurred, even to his own ears, but he continued, hissing at the pain in his leg, as he walked towards the landing pad. The brisk New York air whipped around him, hitting him immediately in the face, allowing him to take a deep, sharp breath. The taste of alcohol was biting in his mouth, sitting thick on his tongue, but he held his hands out, allowing the suit to envelop him.

Tony Stark could be sick in the morning. Right now, Iron Man was going to save some lives.

“FRIDAY!” Tony said, blinking a few times inside the mask. His head was spinning. The AI was bright and blinding, causing him to wince. “Get me the coordinates of the plane.”

“Coordinates implanted, sir. Fifty point two miles away. Would you like me to draft a rescue plan?”

“Nah, I’ll wing it.” Knowing from previous experience, FRIDAY would come up with the safest plan known to man, based on all of the calculations and science that she could throw at it, and Tony would ignore it five minutes in with a crazy idea that ended up working better. Improvisation was the key to success, and he was a genius. A genius with a near perfect record, something he brought up any time the government questioned his manning of the suits, a record that helped him sleep at night on the rare occasions he could actually close his eyes.

The suit streaked across the sky. FRIDAY, as always, brought up recordings from the street cameras below showing people pointing up to the clouds, early joggers in the park and couples stumbling home from a night on the town alike grinning and snapping pictures of Iron Man to put on their Snapchats. Usually, Tony would wave, or do a loop in the air, or play a little for the public, but he was too busy trying to keep his lunch firmly in his stomach, trying to make his head stop repeating drink drink drink drink drink.

He arrived just as the plane began to crash down through the cloud cover. People down on the ground began screaming; it pierced through his brain, made him pause for the briefest of moments until FRIDAY interrupted him.

“Plane, boss,” she said, her tone reading like she was reminding him of something, and Tony laughed, a weird, strained sound in the back of his throat.

“I didn’t forget, sweetheart.” Calculations came up in the helmet. “Run in the Rosenburg law … no.” The plane was going too fast for him to catch, even with the strength of the suit. He could try to repair the engine, get them up and flying again, but it sounded like a blow-out, judging by the amount of smoke billowing out the back and the incessant screeching. It would take too damn long. There was no salvaging the plane. He had to cut into it.

“Get me a list of passengers!” Tony said.

“Boss-”

“Now!”

A list of passengers came up in the screen. Seven businesspeople from Tokyo, coming to a conference about the Accords and the Skrull invasion. Experts in their field. Important people, Tony thought to himself, the kind his father would put above the others. He didn’t work on that principle.

Tony put full power behind his rocket boosters, flying directly for the plane. “Boss, I need to tell you-”

“I’m working right now!” Tony said through gritted teeth. His vision was blurry. His head was pounding. Every time he moved, his limbs felt like they were made of stone. The suit, once intuitive, felt cumbersome. Where it was once his mode of invincibility, it now felt like a liability. As he got close to the plane, trying to gulp back a yell at the powerful air current trying to force him away from the door, he reached out and grabbed onto the side of it, the metal crumpling under his fist.

Even through the mask, Tony could taste the fire whipping through the air mere metres from his face. He pulled himself forward, placing his feet on the wings, holding on tightly with one hand as he angled the other one towards the door. The laser burned through the side of the plane easily, and just before the door came off, Tony flew over to it and gently removed it, allowing it to drop down into the ocean below instead of whipping off and causing more damage to the left balance – though in retrospect, it was off already. When did it come off?

He stepped into the plane, being greeted with seven passengers, all neatly accounted for, with oxygen masks on and parachutes strapped to their backs -  at least, five of them did. Tony counted another couple of times and got different answers for each one. He was Tony Goddamn Stark, why was he messing up counting below ten? Finally, FRIDAY piped up.

“Five have chutes, boss.”

Ah. Right the first time.

“Iron Man!” one of the ladies – a Cho Fong, allegiances to Fujikawa Industries, a fact that might have made him feel drunker than anything else – exclaimed.

“That’s me,” Tony said, holding up his hands. “Okay, everyone stay calm.” He thought for a moment. “I’m going to take the five of you with chutes out and away from the current of the plane. You can then drop down to the harbour, and there’ll be Iron Legion automated soldiers there to help you out.”

Everyone nodded eagerly, and in a swell, the five with parachutes came swarming towards Tony. “All of you hold hands,” he said, remembering a time when this had worked well before, and he had been a hero, the saviour of the day, the Golden Avenger … “Don’t let go, or it won’t go well.”

The group nodded grimly, and with that, Tony backed out of the airplane, allowing the current to hit his back first and disperse as the group crowded together. He shot back out of the plane, keeping a careful grip of everyone even as their sweaty hands slipped, and waited until the distance he calculated as safe before letting go. He didn’t hesitate before going back into the plane.

“The first group have all landed safely in the harbour,” FRIDAY supplemented, a minute or so later. God, the plane was further down than he thought. “Boss, I need to say this-”

“Don’t need help, FRIDAY,” Tony replied, stepping back into the plane. The two people were elderly gentlemen, who looked less terrified of their impending doom and more accepting. (Tony wished he didn’t understand that.)

Tony moved over, the suit whirring as he walked, and hooked his arms under the two men. “Your necks will hurt tomorrow,” he said, rather apologetic, glad that the mask could be blamed for the slur in his voice rather than the liquor. His head was fuzzy, but there was a euphoria there, an adrenaline buzzing. Heroism, that was what it was. Iron Man was the one good thing he had ever done in his life, and he was constantly proving that. Tony Stark could mess up every day in multiple ways, but Iron Man rarely did. He always saved the day.

“Mr. Stark,” one of the men said. Tony turned to look at him. CEO of a tech conglomerate he had never heard of, probably recently founded. Or perhaps not so recently – he hadn’t been keeping up particularly well, lately. “Cho, my daughter – is she safe?”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Tony replied. “My assistant informed me that your daughter reached the ground. She’s waiting for you now.”

The man thanked him profusely, and Tony took that as his moment to blast out of the plane doors, clutching the two men tightly as they made their way down to the ground, spiralling so as to preserve their eardrums. He set them down on the harbour, and watched with a smile as Cho, soaking wet, ran forward and flung herself into her father’s arms. Her father, clearly taken aback, nonetheless smiled and held his sobbing daughter, running his hand down her hair.

The second man without a parachute turned just as Tony raised his hand to wave at the cheering crowd, phones flashing and cameras shuttering.

“Where’s Ying?” he asked, eyes wide.

Tony’s hand slowly lowered. His head throbbed. He thought through the list of passengers, counted them on the harbour. There were seven, all here, all accounted for.

“Ying?” he repeated.

“The pilot!”

Tony was up off the ground before his drunken mind could think to do it, but when his targeting system locked on the plane, it was mere seconds from crashing into the water.

Before it made contact, Tony knew what would happen.

The engine, overheating since they began to crash, would finally give up. The flames that came from the cockpit would meet the jet fuel. It would explode. Tony knew the sequence of events, had heard Rhodes talk about it a million and one times in the air force. He knew the science, knew all the equations, knew what would happen.

He watched as the plane, a beat before hitting the water, burst into flames.

The crowd cheered. They didn’t know. The passengers clapped their hands to their mouths. Cho buried her face in her father’s shoulder and let out a howling cry.

Tony landed once more, hard enough that the wood of the walkway splintered. “I’m-” He turned frantically to the seven. He thought about what FRIDAY had been trying to tell him. He thought about the original message. He thought about how much he couldn’t think right now, how much he was going to throw up when he got home, how he wouldn’t sleep for a month.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Behind the mask, he couldn’t even cry. He couldn’t even think. This would all be a bad dream – he would wake up in the morning, and it would be a dream brought around by the alcohol. A nightmare of a worst-case scenario. After all, Tony Stark was the alcoholic. Iron Man was untouchable, invincible. “I’m … I’m so sorry.”

One of the other women stepped forward. She reached to touch the metal of his suit. Tony blasted off towards the Tower before she had the chance.

The crowd below him chanted.

“Iron Man! Iron Man! Iron Man!”

Only the passengers knew.

*

When Tony woke up the next morning, he wanted a drink. He wanted to pretend like it hadn’t happened. News reports blared through. Iron Man saved passengers from a plane crash! Only one casualty! Tony flicked the channel over to where the pilot’s family talked about him.

Ying had three daughters. Triplets. They were three years old. He had a husband, a small but stocky man who looked as if the world had been broken under his feet. One casualty out of eight – to anyone else it would be good.

Tony knew better. He knew that man’s death, that husband’s death, that father’s death was avoidable.

The next morning, he wanted a drink. Instead, he went into the bathroom and threw up. It felt like he spent hours against the bathroom tiles, the marble harsh and unforgiving on his knees.

When Jessica arrived later on that day, he was still hanging over the toilet, and his hands were shaking so hard he felt like it was 1989 all over again.

“I let him die,” he said to her, and he threw up.

He had promised, almost a decade ago, to make up for his mistakes. He wanted to save the world, protect it from men like who he used to be. He would give his every breath for it.

Tony Stark might have been an alcoholic, but Iron Man couldn’t be, not anymore.

He guessed this was as good a time as any to start.

[jd-rush]

Chuck help me--I committed fanfic: Tony Stark meets the Guardians of the Galaxy.

TITLE: Units From Heaven* AUTHOR:  J.D. Rush FANDOM:  MARVEL, MCU--Iron Man and Guardians of the Galaxy PAIRING:  Tony Stark/Peter Quill kinda RATING:  R for excessive f-bombs and sexual innuendo  (I mean, it IS Tony Stark after all) SPOILERS:  a couple of minor ones for “Guardians of the Galaxy 2”, nothing too damaging SUMMARY:  The Guardians arrive on Earth with a dire warning.  Perhaps someone should have warned them about Anthony Edward Stark.  Takes place approximately three years after “Captain America:  Civil War”, and the Avengers are still estranged.  (I guess that's the nicest word for it.) DISCLAIMER:  Characters belong to MARVEL and Disney and anyone else who could sue me.  I also stole borrowed a couple of lines from “The Avengers”.  I’ll return them when I’m done with them. AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Humour, it's what I do.  This turned out more cracky than I expected, and while I poke fun at Tony, it's done with deep love.  Also, I don't know how long it takes Groot’s species to age or how the aging process works in space; for the sake of argument, let's say he's now the equivalent of early 20's, ‘kay? SECOND AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Many thanks to my lovely friend, Michele, for giving me the encouragement to write this, even though it meant putting up with my current Iron Man obsession and my crippling writer's block.  The XF joke is just for you, sweetie.

Italics mean inner thoughts

“Boss, an unidentified flying object has landed in the south corner of the Compound.”

“Unidentified?  As in. . .”

“As in a space ship, Boss.  It just appeared and. . .”

Tony Stark didn’t wait to hear the rest of what FRIDAY had to say.  With a flick of his wrist, his armor formed around him; in the blink of an eye, he was suited up and flying out to meet his ultimate nightmare.  He had been preparing for this moment for years, and he was ready.  Whatever came out of that ship was going to regret even thinking about coming to Earth, let alone being stupid enough to actually do it.

Tony landed about ten feet from the brightly coloured alien craft, the mid-day sun reflecting off its vivid blue and orange hull.  He barely had a moment to be thankful that he had stuck to classic hot-rod red and gold for his suit when he noticed a side door begin to lower and a shadow crossed the opened hatch.  Bracing his hands in front of him, Tony powered up his repulsors.  

Okay, Stark, here we go.  Showtime.  Shoot first, ask questions later.  Bring it on, you space motherfuckers.  You are going DOWN!

The invader appeared.  It was a large grey bald male humanoid; shirtless, his bare torso was covered in intricate scarlet scars.  He wandered slowly out of the ship, his red-rimmed ice blue eyes looking around in wonder, a big smile on his pudgy face.

“What the fuck?” Tony muttered under his breath.

The first visitor was followed by another male humanoid who was wearing some kind of metal mask with red-disk eye lenses which rendered his face completely unreadable and reminded Tony a bit too much of that putz, Ant-Man.  He was decked out in a long brown leather duster, two high-tech guns strapped to his waist like a genuine space cowboy.

“No, what the actual fuck?” Tony asked again.

At that point, two shapely female aliens made their way down the ship's ramp--one was a stunning brunette with green skin, the other was pretty with pale skin, big dark eyes and two tiny stalks protruding from her head.  Tony gave them the once-over and nodded.

“Okay, hot chicks.  Good.  I can work with that, even the antenna.  But I still gotta ask. . . What.  The.  Fuck?”

He didn't get an answer.  Instead he got a fifth alien, and this one was definitely not humanoid.  In fact, it looked like a raccoon, walking on its hind legs, and wearing a uniform that contained more weaponry than Black Widow on a normal Thursday morning.  Tony tried to remember if he had gotten drunk last night so he could explain all this away as nothing more than a severe hangover.

“What in the name of fuckitude is going on here?” Tony groused.  “I seriously don’t get paid enough to deal with this shit, and I get paid a fuck-ton, thank you very much.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when a tall tree-like creature lumbered out of the ship and walked over to stand with the others.  With a disbelieving headshake, Tony threw up his hands in defeat.  “You know what?  I’m out of fucks.  Seriously, there are not enough fucks in my data bank for this.  I surrender.  Take me to your leader.  What the fuck ever.”

“I am Groot,” the tree-creature rumbled, its arms--or rather limbs--stretched out wide in greeting.

“Yeah, right, you come in peace,” Tony snorted with a sarcastic laugh.  “I’ve seen that movie, pal.  Not buying what you're selling.”

“I am Groot,” the creature repeated, the tone of the words slightly different from the first time.

Hearing that, Tony lowered his hands.  Retracting his helmet, he glanced over his left shoulder towards the cluster of trees at the edge of the field.  “Yeah, I suppose she’s sexy.  For a tree.  I don’t know.  Elms never did it for me.  Give me a Northern Red Oak anytime.  Nothing like a redhead, right?”

“I am Groot?” the creature asked, curiously.

“Nah, none around here," Tony answered.  "Sorry, bud.  Get it?  I called you ‘bud’, because you're a tree and you sprout buds.  Or maybe you don't, seeing as you're an alien tree.  Maybe you sprout, I don't know, starfish or cupcakes or something weird like that.  Although a cupcake sprouting tree would be pretty fucking fantastic, now that I think about it.”

“I am Groot!”  Now the creature sounded miffed.

“Hey, not my fault for once,” Tony fired back.  “I wanted to plant some, but Bruce wouldn't have it.  He’s a big Earth Day kind of guy.  ‘You can’t bring in non-native plants, Tony.’  ‘They mess with the ecosystem, Tony.’  ‘I told you to buy organic, water-based lube, Tony.’  Do you know how hard it is to find that in Key Lime Pie flavour?  I mean, don’t get me wrong.  He’s a total honeybun.  Well, when he’s not turning into a big green rage monster.”  He gestured over at the green female alien.  “I can hook you up with him.  You two would make a good looking couple.”

“Wait a minute!” Cos-play Ant-Man cut in, obviously flustered.  Pointing at the tree creature, he asked, “You understand him?”   “Well, yeah,” Tony replied, “he’s a great conversationalist.  Much more eloquent than our current (sarcastic air quotes) ‘president’, I can tell you that for free.”

“I am Groot.”

Tony let out a loud belly laugh.  “You got that right!  I‘ve done business with that douche canoe.  *I* sure as hell didn't vote for him.”

The cowboy stepped forward and demanded, “HOW can you understand him?  I've been traveling with him for YEARS and I still don't get it!”

With a shrug of his armor-covered shoulders, Tony remarked, “Compared to Dum-E, he’s practically Oscar Wilde.”

Retracting his own helmet, Definitely Not Ant-Man said, “I have no idea who that is.  And what is a Dum-E?”

Tony was momentarily knocked breathless by the handsome green-eyed, artfully-bearded face that the helmet revealed.  “Whoa!  Wow!  Was not expecting that!  FRIDAY, take a note--the chicks aren’t the only hot aliens on that ship.”

“If you call me a chick once more, I'll pull your spleen out through your nose and make you eat it," the green chick, ahhh, female humanoid snarled.

“No offense intended," Tony quickly apologized.  “Seriously, I meant it strictly as a compliment.  You’re total babes.  Plus, I sort of don’t know your names.”

The green alien chick, ahhh, babe, ahhh, lady tilted her head and narrowed her eyes menacingly, causing Tony to take a step back in case his spleen was still in danger. (He wasn’t entirely sure what a spleen was but he certainly didn't want to eat one, especially his own).  After a moment, she conceded, “Okay, I'll let it slide.  For now.”

“She's getting soft,” the furry raccoon-like being chuckled.

She turned her glare on the critter, for which Tony was thankful.  “I’ll show you soft,” she hissed.

“I’ve seen her soft and it’s not half bad,” Hunky Not-Ant Man smirked, and Tony fell just a little bit in love with him.

Green girl took a deep breath, released it slowly, and started again. “I’m Gamora.  And this,” motioning to the bug alien, “is Mantis.”

Mantis smiled, making her already pretty face glow.  “Hello, you have a beautiful world,” she said, her voice soft and soothing.  “I look forward to seeing more.”

“So do I,” Tony replied, suavely, throwing in a wink for good measure.

“Don’t tell me--you flirt with everyone, don‘t you?” Gamora asked.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Tony admitted with a smug grin

Shaking her head in dismay, Gamora muttered, “Great.  Another one.  What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“You were an intergalactic assassin who killed many people and destroyed untold lives,” the big bald alien stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes, right I did do that,” Gamora admitted between gritted teeth.  “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You are welcome,” the big bald alien said, totally without sarcasm or irony. “However, I do not understand how you could forget something like that.”

Gamora clenched her fists tightly and took another deep breath.  The calming techniques Mantis had taught her usually worked when she was ready to kill her crewmates, though not always as the hole she had recently punched in the galley’s door would testify.  Pointing to the big bald paisley-printed alien she continued, “That’s Drax and the ‘other hot alien’ as you so obnoxiously put it, is our captain, Peter Quill.”

“I am Groot,” the tree announced proudly.

"You've already met Groot," Gamora commented dryly, “and last but not least. . .”

“I'm Rocket,” the furry animal creature cut in.  Looking up at Gamora, he snarked, “Sorry, sweets, but I was growing old waiting for you to get to me.  We’re The Guardians of the Galaxy. It’s what we call ourselves.  Sort of like a team.  ‘The Universe’s Mightiest Heroes’ type thing.”

“That’s my line,” Tony grumbled under his breath.

“Actually, they call me Star-Lord,” Quill corrected as he stepped forward, hand extended, pointedly ignoring Gamora’s eye roll.

“And you can call me anytime,” Tony crooned in his best seductive voice, which was pretty damn good.  His right gauntlet folded back upon itself effortlessly and he grasped Quill’s warm hand, shaking it a bit longer than necessary.  Quill blushed slightly, which made Tony grin.  'I still got it', he thought cheerfully.

“We know who you are, Anthony Stark,” Gamora said, interrupting the magical moment.

“It's why we chose this spot to land,” Mantis added with a nod of her head which made her antennae bounce gently.  

Tony stop shaking Quill's hand (much to the man’s disappointment) and regarded the two females suspiciously.  “You know me?  How?  ‘Cause if it was those damn YouTube videos again, I swear I’m just gonna buy that fucking company and burn it to the ground.  I don't care what my lawyers say.”

“Ain’t you Iron Man, the guy that blew up the Chitauri army?” Rocket asked, waving at Tony's armor.  “I mean, ‘cause your outfit is kind of a dead give-away.  Great suit, by the way.  Nice and shiny.”

“Thanks, I polished it today.  You wouldn't believe the amount of Turtle Wax I go through in a week, and that's not including the extra-curricular activities.  And yeah, I nuked some alien space ships, but in my defense, they were sort of destroying Manhattan at the time, so they definitely deserved it.”

“Your name is known throughout the cosmos,” Mantis informed him, respect and awe in her voice.

“They sing songs of you and your legendary deeds!” Drax boomed, excitedly.

Tony pondered that for a moment before saying, “Well, I suppose that weekend party at Hef's in ‘05 would qualify me as a ’legend’ but that doesn’t explain how YOU know who I am.”

“I am Groot.”

At that, Tony eyed the group skeptically, then shook his head.  “Bullshit.  You're pulling my leg.”

“That is impossible,” Drax declared emphatically.  “We are standing too far away to even touch you let alone pull your leg.”  Off to the side, Quill did a dramatic face-palm.

Tony continued to study the individuals in front of him, searching for any sign that they were joking but it was obvious they were serious.  He laughed uneasily.  “No, ah. . .see, I think you’re mistaken.  I’m not even a hero on this planet, let alone across the universe.  You can ask anyone.  I mean, Rogers probably has a entire notebook filled with my faults.  And I’m pretty sure S.H.I.E.L.D. had to start a second file cabinet.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Stark,” Quill said.  “You actions saved many worlds from invasion.  Billions of beings, trillions maybe, owe their lives to you.  You are indeed a hero, and it is an honour to finally meet you.”

For once in his life, Anthony Edward Stark was truly speechless.  He just stared at the six beings in front of him as he tried to process what they were saying.  He couldn't remember the last time he had been told he did something good, never mind getting any praise for it.  “I, ah. . .wow.  Okay. Thanks,” he finally stammered.  “That’s, um, good to know, I guess.  It still doesn’t quite explain why you’re here, though.  I mean, you could have just sent me a cookie bouquet or something.”

“We're here because of Thanos,” Gamora stated simply.  

“Say who?” Tony shot back.

“He’s Gamora's father,” Mantis answered.

“Adoptive father,” Gamora corrected. “Intergalactic terrorist, genocidal maniac, menace to all life forms. . .“

“Big time dickbag,“ Rocket added, disdainfully.  

“Yeah, that, too,” Gamora agreed.  “He wants to rule the universe and impose his will on every living creature in it.  And Terra is first on his list.”

Tony huffed.  “I‘m guessing we‘re ‘Terra‘?” At Gamora‘s nod, he whinged, “Jesus Christ on a fucking crutch.  What did we do to piss him off?”

“Besides blow up his army?” Rocket retorted.

“You ever hear of the Infinity Gauntlet?”  Quill asked.

“Opening band for Black Sabbath?” Tony guessed.

Gamora just grimaced.  “Why am I destined to be surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy?”

Quill quickly began talking fast before Gamora's sword made an appearance.  “Best as I can explain it, there’s this glove, and it holds these six stones. . .”

“Infinity Stones,” Rocket supplied.

“Right, Infinity Stones,” Quill continued. “They’re really old and super powerful and whoever has the glove and those stones can rule the universe.  Thanos already has four, so once he gets the final two. . .”

“The Mind Stone and the Time Stone,” Tony interrupted.

Mantis's already big eyes grew bigger in surprise.  “How do you know about those?” she asked breathlessly.

“Oh, that's easy,” Tony said.  "I've got them."

"WHAT?!??!" the Guardians all exclaimed, well, all except Groot, who exclaimed, “I AM GROOT!”

“Not ME personally," Tony clarified.  “My friend, Stephen Strange, has one of them.  Well, I SAY friend.  Sorry.  Bad ‘Sherlock’ joke.  Had to do it.  Anyway, it’s encased in this pendant called the Eye of Amaretto or something like that.  Tacky ass thing, but major league hoodoo I can tell you that.  We got drunk once and he used it to turn me back into a virgin so he and Rhodey could. . .”

“And the other stone?” Gamora prompted, not wanting to know where that story was going.

“Yeah, the Mind Stone.”  Tony chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  “Well, it's currently embedded in the head of my accidental mystical android son.”

Gamora rubbed her eyes tiredly and groaned, “I really don't even want to know.”  Tony got the feeling that was her default reaction to most things.  “The point is, we have to get to them before he does or else. . .”

Quill mouthed ‘Ka-Boom’ while miming an explosion with his hands.

Tony mulled their words over before confirming, “So you're telling me that we’re going to be invaded by space aliens again.  Extra-terrestrial armies, space ships, powerful super-beings, advanced weapons, all that shit, right?”

“Exactly,” Quill replied.  “That’s why we journeyed across the galaxy.  To warn you and maybe help Terra prepare for. . .”

But he didn‘t get to finish what he was saying as Tony let out a sudden, excited shout, “That is fucking AWESOME!”

Everyone just stared at Tony in confused silence until Drax asked, cautiously, “It is?”

“Fucking A+ it is!”   Glancing upwards, Tony screamed to the sky, “You hear that, Rogers!  I was right, you sanctimonious twatwaffle!  You and Barton can both eat me!”

Rocket snorted.  "Twatwaffle.  I like that.  I'm stealing it."

"What else is new?" Gamora scoffed.

“Um. . .” Quill started, but Tony just talked right over him.  “For years I tried to tell them.  I kept saying, ‘The aliens are coming back‘.  ‘They’re gonna kick our asses‘.  ‘They’ll make New York look like a day at Disneyland’, but would they listen to me?  Oh no.  They were all like ‘You’re crazy, Tony.’  ‘You’re drunk, Tony‘.  ‘You’re being paranoid, Tony.’  ‘You’re talking out of your ass, Tony.’  Well, suck my hairy balls, you assclowns, because I fucking NAILED IT!”  He ended his victory speech with a couple of fist pumps and a happy ‘robot dance’, including some moon walking which looked rather graceful even in the armor, proving it probably wasn't the first time he had done it.

Quill gave a long, low whistle of approval.  “Sick moves, bro!”

“Like 'em?” Tony said with a saucy smirk.  “Had a private session with Beyonce once.  And then we did some actual dancing.”

Mantis leaned towards Gamora and asked uneasily, “Are we sure this is the man who will save the universe?”

Gamora stepped forward, determined to reason with this obviously eccentric (though desperately needed) man and get their mission back on track.  “Mr. Stark, if you would just. . .”

Tony held up his hand to silence her.  “No, no, sweetheart.  Wait a minute.  Let me enjoy this for a few seconds.  I’ve earned it.  And please, it’s Tony.”

“I like this guy,” Rocket announced, hands--or rather, paws--on his tiny hips.

“As I was saying, TONY,” Gamora continued, undaunted, “super villain on the way, imminent interplanetary war, millions of planets at stake, not much time.  Need a plan.  Is there some place we can talk?”

“Yeah, sure, you can all stay up at the Compound,” Tony replied, breezily.  “We’ve got plenty of room.  Most of the team is out on a mission right now.  I only stayed behind because I promised Parker I’d help him with his senior class science project.  Not that he really needs it—the kid’s a goddamn genius but he seems to like my input for some reason.  I think he does it for the hugs and the Double Stuf Oreos.  And Strange is mixing it up in the multi-verse somewhere.  He’s gonna be so stoked to meet you, Star-Lord.  All the awesome facial hair bros!”

Quill's smile was almost blinding.  “You called me Star-Lord!”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Tony commented.  “It’s much cooler than ‘Peter’, and cool’s the rule right?  Hey, I just thought of something--I've got TWO Peters now!  I really should make some kind of pervy sex pun about that.”

“Please don’t,” Gamora muttered.  “It’s really not necessary.”

“You don’t know me very well,” Tony grinned.  “Man, I can't wait until Rhodey gets a load of you guys.  He's gonna lose his shit!”

“Isn’t that what you want to do with sh--” Drax began but Gamora quickly cut him off before he could finish.  “And our ship?”

“Don’t worry about your ship--it’ll be totally safe.  Eject!”  With that, the Iron Man suit opened and Tony stepped out, dressed in the tight black jeans and even tighter black tank top he was wearing when FRIDAY had sounded the alarm.

“GUH!” Quill gasped as Tony Stark was fully revealed for the first time, noting that he DEFINITELY put that smoking hot Rajak girl to shame.

Tony preened a bit.  ’Oh yeah, definitely still got it’, he thought, but instead he patted the suit‘s shoulder and said, “52 here will watch over it for you.  He'll like that.  Will make him feel useful.  Sentry mode.”  At the command, the suit closed back up and raised its arms to chest level, repulsors at the ready.

“Fucking cool,” Rocket stated, clearly impressed.

Tony preened some more.  He liked it when people geeked out with him over his tech--even when those people were walking, talking raccoon-like things.  “I know, right?  You should see the awesome shit I’ve got in development.  I’ll give you a tour of my lab later.  You’ll love it.  Your whiskers may never stop twitching.”  

“That might not be a great idea,” Quill warned, recognizing the scheming twinkle in Rocket’s eye.  

“Nah, it’s a great idea.  I always have great ideas.”  Slinging an arm around Quill’s shoulders, Tony started leading him towards the Compound.   “For instance, there was this one time that me and Reed Richards--great guy, maybe you‘ll get to meet him if Disney ever gets the rights back from FOX--anyway, we had this idea to. . . oh wow, is that an actual Zune?  Cool.  Haven't seen one of those in years.  Retro-tech.  You'll get along great with Parker.  That’s my other Peter by the way.  Still haven’t thought of a good sex pun yet.  Seriously, you should see what that kid can do with a Nintendo Game boy, a roll of copper wire, and a box of Legos.  Here,” digging into the back pocket of his jeans, Tony slapped a cellphone into Quill’s hand. “Starkphone 8.0  Latest model.  Not even on the market yet."

“Why would I need a phone in outer space?” Quill asked, puzzled.

“It holds 50,000 songs, not including the entire AC/DC song library, which comes pre-loaded,” Tony explained.  “Cost me a fortune for the copyrights, but totally worth it.  Can you believe there are people out there that don't know the words to 'Highway to Hell'?  I mean, what's wrong with this world?  Maybe I should let Thermos have it after all.”

“Thanos,” Rocket corrected.

Tony waved his hand dismissively.  “Him, too.”

Gamora shook her head and admonished, “Is everything a joke to you?”

“Funny things are,” Tony shot back automatically.  “Whoa, déjà vu!”

“Did you say FIFTY thou--?”  Quill couldn’t even find the words he was so overwhelmed.  Throwing his arms around Tony, he gave the man a huge bear hug.  “I love you, bro.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot,” Tony laughed, patting Quill on the back.  “Would this be a good time to tell you I fully intend to go old school Captain Kirk on you later?  Explore the final frontier, if you get my drift.”

“Just so you know, I don‘t put out just for a phone, even one as awesome as this,” Quill bantered back, caressing said phone as if it were the greatest treasure in the universe.  “You also have to buy me dinner.”

Tony squeezed Quill‘s shoulder and grinned widely.  “Oh absolutely, Star-Lord.  I know how to properly woo a guy.  Way to a man’s heart, all that jazz.  Hey, do you like shawarma?  I know this great place.  They deliver.  Well, they’ll deliver for me.  They’re back in the city so it’ll take a couple of hours but I guarantee it’s the best food you folks have ever eaten.”  Calling over his shoulder to the other Guardians, he asked, “Anyone else in?”

“I should like to try it,” Mantis said with an excited smile, hurrying to catch up with Tony and Quill.  “I like experiencing new things.”

“There are so many ways I could respond to that, but most of them will get me slapped,” Tony quipped.

“Or worse,” Quill said.  Leaning close to Tony’s ear, he whispered, “Drax kinda has a crush on her, and his nickname is ‘The Destroyer’.”

“Say no more,” Tony whispered back, happy for the warning, though truthfully he only had eyes for Captain Hottie anyway.  To Mantis he said, “Just follow me, my dear lady.  I’ve got a whole world of new things to show you.”  To the others, he gestured grandly towards the Compound,  “C’mon Treebeard.  You too, Crash Bandicoot.  Right this way.”

“I am Groot?”

Tony stopped, turned around, and dramatically clutched at his chest in horror.  “Are you kidding me?  You don't know who Treebeard is?  Fuck me sideways.”

“Do-able” Quill mumbled.

“That’s it, we're definitely watching 'Lord of the Rings' tonight.  The Director's Cut.  You’ll love it.  Oh, and don’t even think about stealing the suit, Meeko,” Tony warned, seeing Rocket making a move towards the Iron Man armor.  “First off, it’s coded just to me, myself, and I, and it’ll turn you into a smoking grease spot faster than you can say ’boy, that was a dumb fucking thing to do.’ And second, it wouldn’t fit you anyway. No sweat.  I can build you one.  I’ve got some odds and ends hanging around the workshop.  Should only take me a day or two.”  He motioned to the last two Guardians.  “You joining us, Green Bean?  Conundrum?  Shawarma for everyone!”

Drax followed along after the others, musing aloud, “How is it possible that he can talk out of his ass?  They did not mention that in any of the tales.  Indeed, he is a hero worthy of song!”

“Fuck my life,” Gamora muttered as she trudged after her team, knowing the hole in the galley door was going to have a new friend very soon.  

THE END *Title is a play on the phrase, "Pennies from Heaven", ie. unexpected good fortune, and as GotG use 'units' instead of money, well, there you go.