#a few people have asked for more of the pete sniffing shirt one so lets see dhat happens

[fobnsfwdoodles]

Cleaned up Joetrick puppy play comic just dropped

[thegreenmetblue]

STARKER FESTIVAL SUMMER BINGO : 9th square

hurt/comfort

read on ao3

im gifting this one to @itfeelssogoodmrstark because 1. gift day 🙈, 2. you’re being the sweetest with me when i get anxiety and it does help me 🥺 and 3. you always give me the motivation to write 🥰, love you sm luna ❤️❤️

tw : anxiety, heart palpitations and panic attack

My Heart Is Yours, So Hold Me Forever

My Heart Is Yours

“Boss, I have to inform you that the boy’s heart is beating faster than usual.”, FRIDAY alerts Tony while he’s working in the lab. Tony stops, the boy ?

“Fri, are you talking about Peter ?”, he asks, frowning. Why is his AI calling Peter ‘the boy’? “Affirmative, Sir.”, his creation answers. Tony tries not to start to worry.

“Is he patrolling or doing any exercices ?”, the man asks, still trying to not panic yet. Is Peter in danger ? Where he is ? He’s supposed to be at school at this hour of the day. He shouldn’t be patrolling. Which would mean he-

“He presently is locked in the bathroom of his high school, Boss. From the vitals Karen just transmitted me, it appears he’s not in danger, but his body shows several signs of panic and anxiety.”, Tony hears her voice echoes in his brain. Shit. What happened ?

In less time that Tony would have taken to even walk to his kitchen, he’s in the suit flying to Peter’s school. He tries not to let his heart race too much. Peter’s probably having a panic attack or something. He can’t allow himself to have one too. Not right now.

Tony doesn’t even care that people could see him almost running in a high school. He just cares about Peter.

When he opens the boys’s toilets’s door, the first thing he hears is small sniffles. “Pete?”, he says softly, not to scare the poor thing. Tony hears the boy’s breath stopping suddenly.

“Mr- Mr. Stark ? Is that you ?”, a small cracking voice asks. He’s been crying. Tony closes the first door and completely enters the bathroom. “Yeah it’s me kiddo.”, the man answers in an almost whisper, still trying to sound like he’s not worried.

“What… What are you- ? Why are you here ?”, Peter whines, almost like he’s gonna cry again, he’s a bit breathless. So Tony was right, was Peter having a panic attack ?

“Please I’d like better not to talk to an orange school door toilet, Pete. Get out of there.”, Tony says and as soon as he hears a small sob, he realizes he’s being a bit harsh. Shit. He has to control his damn worry.

“Im sorry, kid. Fri alerted me you were panicking. What happened Peter ?”, he finally questions, trying not to stress the boy. There’s no direct answer, but another sniffing. Tony doesn’t push it. He wants to, but he doesn’t. He gives Peter enough time to speak.

“I- I don’t really know… I.. my heart is- just beating so fast right now, and my stomach is so clenched and I feel like I can’t breathe.”, Peter explains after a few seconds, Tony hears the trembling in his voice, he wonders if it’s because of his heart beating fast or because he cried.

“It’s alright, Peter… Hey, can you get out of there for me please ?” There’s another silence, Peter’s breath is louder, shakier. Tony’s shoulders release a bit of their tension when he finally hears the ‘click’ of the door’s lock.

But the view before him almost breaks his heart. Peter’s eyes are red, his cheeks are read too, and he’s literally trembling, a hand clenching on his shirt just where his heart is at. And Tony just wants to hug him and never let go. Fuck, when did he become that protective with Peter ? He’s seen people in so much worse state. And yet, his protection instinct never were that strong.

“Sweetheart…”, he lets slip. It only adds more tears to Peter’s eyes. “Im sorry…”, the boy mumbles, looking down.

“Hey. None of that. Can you tell me what happened ?”, the man asks, still restraining himself to pull Peter close to him. Shit, Stark get a hold on yourself. But again, Peter only seems to have more and more difficulties to breathe.

“Hey, Hey, it’s alright Peter. Breathe for me please ? In and out ? You’re alright buddy, it’s alright.”. Tony’s soft voice seems to work out a bit on Peter. But the hand on his heart is still there. FRIDAY told him Peter’s heartbeats were reaching 160 bpm, which is definitely too fast for someone who’s just standing in a bathroom.

Peter opens his mouth and lets out a shaky breath before speaking. “I don’t know what happened, it- it happens lots those days and I don’t know why, im just getting really anxious and then I feel like I can’t do anything, I get- those, my heart, it’s being like this for no reasons, and it scares me. I feel like Im gonna have a heart attack.”, he explains in one shot, voice still trembling. Tony shushes him. But Peter continues. “And my tummy feels like- clenched and I hear my heart echoing in my whole body right now, it hurts my chest and my back. And-”

“Peter.”, Tony cuts him. “Please, you have to breathe.”

The boy does what Tony asked him to. He’s still trembling. Tony sighs. “Calm down okay ? You’re safe right now.”

“I know Im safe, Mr. Stark! That’s the issues, I don’t know why, and I think- I think you’re making it worse, I don’t know what triggered it, I can’t calm my heart, I feel like it’s gonna explode in my chest.”, Peter blurts out once again. The man tries not to get upset by Peter saying he’s making this worse.

And then Peter’s eyes start to water again. “Im- I think Im having a heart attack Mr. Stark, I can’t- I can’t breathe.”. Tony’s own heart clenches at that. “Shhh, Pete… You’re not having a heart attack, you can breathe, you’re doing perfect right now Sweetheart.”, this one petname was volunteer. Tony hates to admit it, but he damn knows how much those affect Peter. But the boy just seems to get more and more anxious, he’s even starting to get away from Tony, stepping back. Tony stares at the boy’s hand, still clenching hard on his shirt, like he needed to feel how fast his heart was beating.

“Pl-Please, make it stop, I- I left the class without even asking if I could, the teacher is gonna send May something, and it’s worse, you make it worse, Mr. Stark, please.”, Peter starts to full cry now, his body trembling even more. Okay, that’s it. Tony thinks.

“Pete, can I touch you ?”, he still asks, not to startle him even more. Peter doesn’t answer but he nods. “Okay turn around and take your shirt off.”, he orders, voice still soft. That gets a reaction out of Peter.

“What ?”, he says dumbly, he can’t blush because his cheeks are already red but Tony hates that he wished they weren’t just so he could see the red creeping in the boy’s cheeks at that. And then he hates himself, thinking like that when Peter clearly isn’t feeling okay.

“Do what I say, Pete, Im not gonna do anything, I promise.”, he tries to reassure the boy. God, he knows how that sounds.

Peter stays silent for a little while and then actually does take his shirt off. In front of Tony, before turning away from him. Tony tries not to stare. He’s being the worst right now., but then Peter actually turns around and facing the boy’s back makes it easier for Tony to remember why he’s doing this.

Peter lets another sobs. “My chest- it burns, I can’t calm it down, why is-”, he starts but Tony cuts him again.

“Shhh, I want you to forget your heart, Pete. You forget your heartbeats and focus on my finger, alright ? Im gonna write words in your back, baby. And the only thing you have to do is to guess the letters, and then the word, okay ? Im sure you already played this game before.”, he explains, still making effort to keep his voice soft and reassuring for Peter.

Tony knows Peter really isn’t in his normal state when he doesn’t hears the awkward response he would have said in a normal situation if Tony said he’d draw letters on his bare back. The only thing he gets is Peter nodding again and whispering a small, shaky ‘Kay.’.

Tony puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder, to ground him. And then, with his second hand, he draw a ‘W’ on Peter’s back. He sees Peter’s skin shivering but it’s the only thing he gets.

“Pete, what letter did I just draw ?”, he asks, patiently. “Huh.. I- I don’t know.”

“Shhh, it’s okay, Im gonna do it again, okay ? Please focus on my finger on your back.”, Tony whispers before doing another ‘W’ on Peter’s back. He hates how smooth his finger feels against that sweet skin.

“W ?”, Peter asks and Tony smiles, praising a soft ‘yeah that’s good, perfect.’, before drawing an ‘E’.

Peter’s body and breath are still shaky, but the latest doesn’t come out as sobs anymore. This time, he guesses on the first shot. “E.”, he says, voice still sick. Tony hums and draws a ‘B’.

“Are- Are you gonna write webs ?”, the boy asks finally. Tony hides a laugh. “Smart boy. It’s what came to my mind first. But the game is more about focusing on each letter, less about finding the word, Pete. Just focus on the way my finger feels on your back, huh ?”. The man hates how that sounds again. But it’s what Peter has to do, so he nods. He started with a short words on purpose so Peter doesn’t get overwhelmed by the task.

Tony draws a ’S’ and then leaves his hand on Peter’s back. He doesn’t ask if Peter’s heart feels less like it’s gonna explode. Peter has to focus on something else.

“Alright, Im gonna start a new word now okay ?”, Tony prevents. He thanks the lord that it’s classes hours because it’s probably safe from anyone entering the bathroom right now. God- What would it even look like ? Plus, it’d just throw Peter in an even more stressing situation.

Next, Tony goes with ‘P-E-A-C-H’, just because he can smell Peter’s peachy shampoo from there. The boy seems already more calmed down. No more sobs, breath more regular, trembling almost gone. They don’t talk about anything else but the ‘game’, Peter tells letters and words, and Tony praises.

’H-O-N-E-Y’ He’ll be damned, he doesn’t even care.

‘V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N’

Every time Tony starts a new word, he sees Peter’s back shivering. But he doesn’t care, because Peter looks better. Sounds better. He can feel how relaxed the boy starts to be with the hand that’s still on his shoulder.

’S-A-N-D-W-I-C-H’ Peter even laugh, saying that now he’s hungry.

And Tony goes for the last one, because it worked, Peter’s not panicking anymore. ’S-W-E-E-T-H-E-A-R-T’. Yes, two petnames, he’s already damned anyway.

“Sweetheart ?”, Peter says in a weak voice. And it’s the first time he asks a question. Because he’s not searching for approval. He’s asking if the sweetheart is him. Tony decides to ignore that, pretending he didn’t understand and praises him for finding the right word.

“Turn around now, Pete.”, he orders gently. Peter’s eyes aren’t frantic, his mouth isn’t twisted, he still have red cheeks, but Tony guesses it’s because of- anyway. “It… It worked, my heart feels normal again. My stomach too. I… Thank you, Mr. Stark.”, Peter says, hesitantly, looking- looking at Tony with eyes that makes him wanna protect him forever. “I… I liked the- your hand, on my back.”

And it’s too much, Tony can’t help it, without Peter even having any time to realize it, Tony pulls him close in a hug. It takes a second for Peter to wrap his arms against the man too. Tony may be hugging him too tight, he doesn’t care. He just cares about having Peter here, close, safe. They don’t say anything, they just keep hugging like it was the last time they would see each other.

And automatically, Tony’s hand finds his way to Peter’s hair. The sound Peter makes, and tries to hide by sinking his head deeper in Tony’s chest, sends butterflies into Tony’s stomach. Fucking butterflies. What is he ? 12 ?

They stay a bit more like this, Tony petting Peter’s hair, his hand snarling into the boy’s soft curls. It’s like magic. Because it appeases both of them. Peter doesn’t even bother to hide the purrs coming out of his mouth, and Tony- Tony is melting.

It’s lasting too much. Tony’s hand slides into the boy’s neck and he feels Peter’s skin shivering again. Stop., he tells himself. Stop before you cross the damn line, Stark. But fuck, the line is so blur right now.

Fuck, don’t.

With his other hand he tilts Peter’s head up, moving themself just a bit further but now they’re facing each other. Tony closes his eyes. Peter’s cheeks are so red, his eyes are just- begging him to do it. He can’t. He can’t look because he’s about to do the biggest mistake of his whole life, and it’s saying lots.

“Mr. Stark… Please ?”, Peter finally whispers, voice just demanding, his breath caressing the man’s face. Tony’s eyes open on their own.

Fuck it.

And the next thing both of them can understand is that their lips are against each other’s. Tony can’t believe he’s doing this. Peter can’t believe this is happening. But both of them just can’t fight it anymore. Peter’s body suddenly wraps around Tony’s and the man clenches his hands around Peter’s back hard. He wants Peter to be closer, he wants Peter to be safe, he wants Peter to be his, he wants Peter.

It’s sloppy, Peter doesn’t know how to kiss. Tony doesn’t mind. No, it’s a lie, Tony knows he’s Peter’s first kiss and it awakes something dangerously warm inside him.

The small choked noises Peter is doing right now are gonna stay graved in Tony’s memory forever. It’s so good, it feels like liberty and flying. For both of them. It feels like there’s a fire, and both of them are into it, but it’s not a bad burning, it’s a beautiful burning.

And when the kiss stops, for them to breathe, Tony sees the most beautiful thing in the world in front of him. And this beautiful thing is looking at him like he just hung the moon.

“I- Im- Oh my god, Im so sorry Mr. Stark, I didn’t want t-”, Peter starts, stuttering and panicking again but Tony puts a finger on his mouth, shushing him immediately.

“Shhh, we don’t want you to have another crisis don’t we ?”, he says. And then there’s a silence. A loud one. Peter looks like he’s about to cry again. Tony has a choice to make. A big one. Two solutions, only one of them is reasonable.

“Let’s move to the compound, Pete. Not sure you’d appreciate one of your teacher seeing you kissing Tony Stark.”, he finally says. Yeah, Tony isn’t really known for making reasonable choices. But when he sees the boy’s face lightning up in front of him, it really doesn’t matter anymore.

So Hold Me Forever

Peter was having a great day. It’s summertime and he, MJ And Ned went to the public swimming pool -yes, he told Tony they wanted to go there and not in the penthouse’s swimming pool-, and now they’re eating in a fast-food. Holidays just started, no more school, no more homework, no more exam, yeah, Peter is definitely having a great day.

The boy was threatening MJ to give him back his fries when he felt his heart clenching hard.

Oh no.

That must have reflected on his face because suddenly, both Ned and MJ are asking him if he’s alright.

“I- I gotta go, guys, sorry, I’ll maybe catch with you later!”, Peter hurries before literally jumping from his seat and rushing out. He knows it’s a lie. He know he definitely won’t come back. Because Tony is having a panic attack right now.

Fuck. If it wasn’t for his spidey sense, he wouldn’t even have known. Meaning that Tony told FRIDAY not to alert him.

“Fuck you Tony…”, he mumbles, already swinging his way back to the compound. In those moments, Peter wished he had an armor like Tony to go faster.

When he finally arrives, he asks FRIDAY to localise Tony and then rushes to the lab. Tony is there, sat on the floor, back against the wall, breathing loudly. That vision makes Peter wanna throw up. He knows he can’t panic, he knows he can’t touch Tony, so he gently crouches in front of him.

“Tony, hey…”, he whispers, just not to startle the man. When their eyes meet, the boy’s jaw clenches because of how scared Tony looks.

“K- Kid, Pe-Pete. Get- Get o-”, the man tries to say, but Peter shushes him. “Stop talking, Im not going anywhere Tony, Im right here.”. Peter tries to control the shakiness in his voice.

He’s mildly happy to see Tony trying to nod. But if the man doesn’t put up a fight for Peter not to see him like this, then it’s that it’s really serious.

“Okay, Tony please I want you to breathe okay ? Can you breathe ? In and out ? In. In, Tony. Breathe please…”, he murmurs despite his state. But Tony doesn’t really show any respond to what he said, he’s not even looking at him. The boy sighs, fighting the tears. Not the fucking time to act like a baby, Parker. And he crabs both of Tony’s wrist.

Tony jumps, and finally locks his eyes into Peter’s. “Pet-Peter…”

“You’re okay, you’re okay Tony. It’s just a panic attack. You know what you have to do when you got those, right ? You gotta breathe. C’mon… No. Keep staring at me, please. Okay now, now-”, but Peter stops himself to take a breath. He hates seeing the man like this. “Now you gotta copy how Im breathing okay ?”, the boy asks. He shouldn’t ask, he should order.

“Honey.”, he says instead, softly. Tony still has his eyes locked into Peter’s. Peter’s still holding both of his wrist. It’s fucking scary to feel how much Tony’s shaking. He’s glad he has his superstrength, because he’s able to maintain Tony. The petname does it because Tony nods again, making a distress sound that clenches Peter’s heart so hard.

“Okay, good Tony, c’mon, like me please.”, Peter whispers before starting to breathe loudly. Calmly, but loudly, so Tony can focus on it enough to try to copy it.

“Don’t let my eyes down, Tony. Please, you always says you love my eyes. So focus on them, please. You can stare and then make fun of me because of that yellow spot I hate okay ?”, he panics a bit. Peter hates that he’s rambling even in time like this. But he just wants Tony to focus only on his face and breathing.

“Can’t-”, Tony starts but cuts himself before speaking again. “Can’t breathe.”, he manages to say. And suddenly, Peter’s lips are on his. It’s not a kiss. It was either that, either a hand on his mouth. But it just looks a bit less frightening than if Peter was stopping Tony from breathing through his mouth.

A few seconds pass before Peter moves back to his initial position. “Keep your mouth shut, Tony.”, he gently orders. “Okay, now Imma ask you the same thing but only breathing through your nose okay ?”

Tony nods again, so Peter starts breathing loudly through his nose. He forces Tony’s hands down and sits completely in front of him. Peter doesn’t even know how he can keep his breathing calm, because he just wanna burst into tears, but he does.

The man finally tries to copy the slow breathing. At first it doesn’t work because Tony’s breathless but they keep going, in silence. Just Peter holding his wrists and keeping eyes contact.

It takes a few minutes but Tony does calm himself a bit. Not enough for it to be done, but enough for practically having the same breathing pace as Peter.

So that’s a step done. Peter feels a bit calmer already. Having Tony like that in front of him is pretty scary. And he’s also always scared he won’t be able to help him. The first time Tony had a panic attack, Peter was so lost he had to call Rhodey.

A few seconds go by, still in a loud-breathing-silence and then Peter gets up. Tony follows his eyes up. “What… What are you doing kid ?”, kid. Tony doesn’t really call him like that anymore -expect for a few times in bed because c’mon that’s kinky-. If he does right now, it’s because he’s still not completely aware of the situation, still panicking. The boy gives him his hand. Tony grabs it without questioning it. And Peter pulls him up, again thanks to his superstrength. “I need you up for this.”, Peter fakes chuckles. He wants his boyfriend to know it’s okay. All of this. “It’s okay.”

And then Tony is up, legs still shaking a bit. “Friday, how’s Tony’s heart doing please ?”, he asks to the AI. “Still going faster than it should for its own good.”, that makes the boy nods.

Peter stares at him and remembers Tony actually asked him for touching permissions when he had heart palpitations. “Are you okay for me to touch you Tony ?”, he questions with a soft smile. “Yeah I am, Pete…”, the man answers, voice half breathless, half joking. And suddenly Peter’s hugging Tony. Hard. Both of their chests are glued together.

Peter hears Tony’s air stops before coming back more as a sigh. He wonders if it’s a good sign. He isn’t even sure if what he’s doing right now is helpful or no. But technically that should work.

Tony passes a hand on the boy’s neck, stroking gently the beginning of his soft curls. Peter shivers. That’s perfect. His own heart needs to be calm for this, Tony is making it calm. Because feeling the man’s one stammering against his chest definitely doesn’t help.

“Im not… Im not sure why the hug, but it does feel good, Pete”, Tony chuckles softly. He tries to act like it’s done. Peter knows it’s not. Their body are clenched against each other, he can feel the trembling everywhere.

“It’s not just a hug, we have to stay like that, okay ? It… It helps.”, Peter mumbles, not so sure he wants to explain to Tony. “What helps ? Hug ? Love ? Im.. Im sure it does, P-Pete, you did good there.”, the man tries to praises him. Peter clenches his teeth. It’s him who should praise Tony for being able to follow what Peter asked.

“You did good actually Tony. Not me. And it’s… not about hug or love. It’s about… about the fact that when two people hug, their hearts are against each other, the skin is the only barrier. And the human heart has this thing you know ? To copy beats. Like with music, when there’s loud beats, the heart tends to- anyway. What I mean is that, your heart is beating really fast right now, too fast. And mine is okay. So when we hug, like this, both of our hearts will try to copy each other’s beat. So yours should go back to a normal pace more quickly than if we just waited for it to. And it’s also nicer. T- To hug, I mean. Than to like… just wait.”, Peter finishes and wants to slaps himself for not being able to not ramble. He knows his cheeks are red and hates that.

But when his eyes go up to meet Tony’s, all he can read here is love. “Sweetheart…”, Tony whispers. But he doesn’t add anything else. However he kisses the top of Peter’s head. Again, it’s gestures that appease both of them.

“Let’s stay like this, then. So your heart can-”, the boy starts but gets cuts by Tony. “Yeah staying like that sounds perfect to me, Honey.”

So they stay. Both of them wouldn’t have any idea of how many time they stayed like this, holding each other, waiting for Tony’s heart to beat at a normal pace again. It seems like forever and just- out of time at the same time. Slowly, their position shifts a bit. Peter watches carefully that both of their hearts are still perfectly against each other, but he lets his head fall against Tony’s shoulder. Tony has his leaned on Peter’s. The man’s hands are on Peter’s hair and the boy’s ones are slowly caressing his back.

It’s finally FRIDAY’s voice who interrupt them. “Boss, your heartbeats seem to have found a slow pace again.”, she says, making them jump at the same time, stirring them out of that headspace they both went to.

Peter steps back a bit and study Tony’s face. There’s no visible signs of panic anymore. “How are you feeling ?”, he can’t help but ask. “Could be better, but could have been way worse if you haven’t showed, Pete.”, Tony smiles, creating butterflies in Peter’s stomach. “Thank you, my babyboy.”, the man adds with a smile, a fondly smile. Peter opens his mouth but nothing goes out. Tony takes his hand and brings them to the couch.

It’s easy. It’s easy to forget what just happened when Tony brings them close, under a pile of blankets on the couch. But Peter doesn’t.

“Tony… What… What happened ? Why did you… What triggered the panic attack ?”, he finally asks. Because he wants to know. Because he worries. Because he loves him. And he wants Tony to share everything with him. The good and the bad. Tony’s first silent answer is to tighten his grip around the boy’s body. Not in a bad way, more in an affectionate way. Peter wants to say ‘You don’t have to tell me.’, not to pressure Tony into saying anything, but he needs to know.

“Let’s say I… St- Rogers sent me a letter.”, Tony tells finally. Without adding anything else. He doesn’t have to. He doesn’t want to either. And that’s where Peter won’t cross the line. He got his answer. He sees Tony’s gaze wandering away and immediately comes up with something to bring him back. “Did you read it ?”, Peter questions, to tell Tony he doesn’t have to explain more. Because Peter knows. Peter knows what happened after his first battle with and against the team. And he knows how it fucked Tony up, he saw how it fucked Tony up.

“No.”, short answer. Message received.

“Okay… Thank you for telling me Tony.”, Peter practically purrs against him, showing that now they can both move on from that. But Tony apparently doesn’t catch it. “Peter, Im sorry you ha-”

“Don’t.”, Peter cuts him almost harshly. Tony shoots him a look. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I hated seeing you like that. But I would have hated it so much more if I wouldn’t have been able to help you Tony. Let me help. I wanna share those things with you. Not just the soft, not just the huh.. sexy stuff, but also this. I don’t want you to hide this part of you from me, Tony. I.. I love you. You. Not you minus your… this. You, entirely.”, Peter almost whines, fighting back the tears again. He expected Tony to shush him orally, but no. Tony leans on and kisses him.

It’s a real kiss this time, not like the one Peter did just to make Tony breathe through his nose. Peter kisses him back. It’s slow, it’s loving, just the kind of kisses both of them need right now. Peter feels so good. When Tony breaks the kiss, still staring at Peter, the smile he got makes the boy wanna bury his head against his chest. “I love you too, Petey Pie. My smart boy…”, he whispers before giving Peter another small smack on his lips.

Then they both go back to lying down, cuddled against each other under the blankets. There’s a comfortable silence. But Peter breaks it again. “If there’s something you should feel sorry about is not alerting me when this happened, Tony. Please… Promise me you will next time. Please.”, he mumbles again, hiding his head in one of the blankets.

The boy hears Tony sighing, a silence, and then “Sorry. Im gonna let you know from now on… Promise, kiddo.”. Peter only raises his head up and kisses Tony’s cheeks.

“How did you know ?”

Shit.

“How did I know what ?”, he tries, dumbly.

“How did you know I was having a panic attack ?”, Tony clarifies. Peter didn’t need him too. He just, feels so stupid for this. It’s like, proving Tony how much everything in him just loves him.

The boy lowers his head down and murmurs a faint “It’s… It’s a huh… spidey sense thing. I kinda can… feel when you… when you’re not okay or stuff.”. Admitting it makes his cheeks turn red again.

But Tony only cups his cheek with his warm hand, raising Peter’s head again so he can look at Tony’s eyes. “Baby… You have no idea what knowing that just did to me. I love you, Peter. My heart is yours.”, the man says in all honesty, feeling way too many emotions at once.

Hearing that almost makes Peter cries. He’s happy. He’s in love. “So hold me forever.”, he whispers before Tony just surrounds him with his own warm body and blankets.

🌙

for @starkerfestivals 😋💖 hope yall enjoyed it, this one is somehow personal because i had the idea to write it after a period where i had a lot of heart palpitations

[lemonpeter]

STARKER, by Peter B. Parker

Chapter 7: Betrayal

A/N: !!! and the plot progresses, with this absurdly long chapter (I think it’s our longest yet)!! we would love to hear your thoughts on the story so far and any ideas you have about what’s coming in the future! - bloo & bri 💕

Warnings: nff scene in the beginning, heavier angst (it’s finally starting 😈), character death mention

Masterlist ao3

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When they walked through the doors of the fancy restaurant with the French name that Peter didn't even want to attempt to pronounce, the couple was met with a young woman standing at the hostess station, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

Barely looking up from the little podium where she obviously was 'hiding' her phone, she glanced at Peter as she spoke, not paying any attention to the older man beside him. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but unfortunately we're full tonight. I'd love to help you make a reservation for another time if you'd like." Her eyes moved back down as she fiddled with a pen absentmindedly.

Tony didn't respond, just smirked down at Peter from behind his dark sunglasses. 'Wait for it' he mouthed. He sniffed lightly, nose twitching.

And Peter, well he just stood there and did exactly that. His eyes wandered, landing on the small, gold metal rectangle pinned to the hostess’ black button up. Hailey, it read in flowing black script.

The woman looked up, finally, when neither of them said anything. Her eyes met Peter's again and she smiled at him, raising one of her eyebrows questioningly. "Is there a specific day you'd like?" She turned to the side and began clicking through options on the computer. "We could do next Tuesday evening, at seven-thirty?”

Tony took that as his chance, clearing his throat. He shifted and took a step closer to his husband, hand moving to rest on his lower back. “We have a reservation, actually.”

Hailey looked up, then, head turning to face Tony in response to the sound.

Peter had to bite back a laugh at the way the hostess' expression changed, leaning into Tony’s embrace.

Mouth gaping, she simply stared at them for a moment, eyes wide with shock. Then a deep flush overtook her face. Hailey hurried to speak, spluttering over her words as she straightened her posture. “Oh, God, I am- I am so sorry. Mr. Stark. So sorry, Let me just-.” With shaking hands, she began typing before turning to them a moment later, an embarrassed smile pulling at her lips. “Everything’s, um, all set for the private room you reserved, sir. M-mister Stark.”

“That’d be ‘Misters’ Stark,” Tony corrected, smiling down at Peter. He pressed a kiss to the boy’s temple, eyes closing briefly and making a delicate blush spread over his cheeks.

“Yes, of course. If you’ll both follow me, I’ll show you to your table.” Having reconstructed her mask of professionalism, Hailey grabbed two menus and gestured for the two men to follow her into the main area of the restaurant.

They walked through the deep, navy velvet curtains that were drawn and made their way through the dining area. There were tables scattered throughout, all occupied by people who looked like they had more money in their wallets than Peter had seen in his entire life up until that point.

He could feel all of their eyes on him, no doubt wondering who was so lucky as to be on the arm of Tony Stark. He could hear their scandalized whispers. And he’d honestly thought he wouldn’t know how to feel about the attention. But here he was, preening under their gazes. The teen loved everyone seeing that yes he, Peter Benjamin Parker, had somehow lucked out and captured the attention of the playboy. He certainly looked the part, in his powder blue button down (of which the top few buttons were undone, exposing a bit of his chest and the thin chains draped from his neck, but not open enough to give away the lingerie he was wearing underneath) and his tight gunmetal trousers, both by Gucci. He didn’t even want to know how much the outfit actually cost.

But he wanted everyone else to.

The warmth of Tony’s palm on the small of his back as they walked, his fingertips ghosting over the top of his ass, had something warm fizzling deep in Peter’s belly.

Once they reached the far end of the dining area, they were led into an alcove off to the side, separated by another dark curtain. There was a single table in the moderately sized room, set up for two. A bouquet of red roses sat in the middle of the white table cloth like a centerpiece. The lighting was inviting and intimate at the same time, and it was quiet, the conversations of the other patrons but a low murmur in the background.

Hailey sat the menus down on the table in their respective places before turning to the two patrons. “Here you go, gentlemen.” While the two of them sat down, Tony pulling Peter’s chair out for him, she reached for the glass pitcher of ice water and filled each of their glasses. “I’ll start you off with some water, and a server will be right with you. I hope you enjoy your visit with us here at La Brise Fraîche.” She shot them a quick smile before making a hasty exit, face once more taken over in a rosy blush.

Tony chuckled as he shifted his chair a bit closer to the table. Slipping off his sunglasses, he popped them into the pocket of his black suit jacket, in front of the little pocket square that matched Peter’s shirt. “She certainly changed her tune, huh baby?” He shot Peter a soft smile as he picked up his menu and gestured for the younger man to do the same.

Peter hummed in response to his husband’s teasing, following his lead and opening the menu in order to look it over. A frown soon formed between his eyebrows, and his eyes flicked from the parchment up to Tony’s face. “Tony,” he said softly, “this, uh, most of this is in French. I can’t- And there’s no prices on here. How do I…” He trailed off, uncertainly, all of his earlier confidence gone now that they were alone again. He felt extremely out of his element all of a sudden.

Reaching across the table, the older man brushed his fingers over the back of Peter’s hand. “It’s alright, Pete. What are you in the mood for, baby? We should definitely get some wine,” he said, winking.

Peter giggled and threw his head back a little. When he looked back over at Tony, his eyes were gleaming and he bit his lip, running the toe of his shoe from the inside of the man’s ankle up to his knee. “You trying to get me drunk, Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s gaze darkened, causing Peter’s breath to catch in his throat. “Maybe I am, Mr. Stark.”

Their waiter approached them, then, slipping through the navy drapery. “Good evening gentlemen. I’m Jacques, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start the two of you off with something to drink?” He smiled at them both as he spoke with a light French accent, eyes flickering between them before focusing on Tony.

The billionaire cleared his throat, not even bothering to reach for the proffered wine list. “We’ll have whatever the finest Cab Sauvignon is, and how about a Sauvignon Blanc as well?” Though he phrased it as a question, it didn’t very much sound like one, and Peter squirmed in his seat at the authoritative tone of his voice.

God, how was he going to make it through this dinner? They hadn’t even ordered yet and he was already horny.

And it only got worse from there.

The wines Tony had chosen were really strong, Peter thought to himself as he fumbled a bit with his fork, trying to twist up some of the creamy pasta on the plate in front of him. It was some sort of mushroom-based sauce, and it looked delicious. And it would be, if the numerous other dishes they had ordered and already sampled, Tony insisting that he try a little bit of everything, were anything to go by.

He was flushed from the alcohol, and inebriated enough that he was no longer bothering with trying to hold back the little sounds of ecstasy that left his mouth at each bite of the incredible cuisine.

His eyes fluttered shut once he finally managed to twist up enough pasta to put in his mouth, and the soft noise he made sounded truly indecent. He heard Tony’s sharp intake of breath and sighed contentedly as he chewed the bite of food before opening his eyes again in order to get another forkful.

Feeling his husband’s eyes boring into his skin, Peter looked up from his plate. A small whimper escaped him at the hungry look in his eyes. “Tony?”

The older man licked at his bottom lip as his eyes roved over Peter’s face. His voice was somewhat rough when he spoke, leaning forward in his seat. “You’ve got a little something there, baby,” he said lowly, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick it before reaching across the table to swipe the digit just under Peter’s bottom lip. The small smear of glistening white came off easily, and he pressed the pad of his thumb against Peter’s lips, prompting him to open.

Another whine escaped the teen as he did so immediately, granting Tony’s finger entrance. Peter began sucking on it lightly to clean the sauce off, and he hummed once the light cream dissipated and he’d swallowed it down, allowing him to focus on the sensation of Tony’s calloused skin on his tongue.

Tony groaned softly, shifting in his chair. “Mmm, that’s my good boy.” He pulled his thumb away, smirking at the displeased noise that came from his young lover as he reached down to adjust himself in his pants.

Peter caught the movement. His own cock, which had been slightly interested since they’d left the hotel thanks to how sexy he felt in the lingerie he had slipped on, gave a slight twitch. “You hard for me, Daddy,” he asked, blinking coquettishly at the man and reaching for one of his two wine glasses, bringing the one filled with the red wine to his lips. He made a bit of a show of running his tongue from the base of the goblet up to the rim, cleaning up a rivulet of the dark, blood red liquid that had dripped down while he drank.

“Always, baby boy,” Tony said softly, keeping his eyes on Peter as he took a bite of what was left of the steak au poivre in front of him.

They continued eating, and Peter continued his teasing, until their server arrived a few minutes later to check on them. The young boy was glad the table cloth was there to hide the erection in his lap, his flush intensifying as Jacques approached them. Tony, however, didn’t look phased, continuing to eat the rest of his food and sip at the full-bodied alcohol in his glass, eyes trained on his husband.

Beginning to clear away the empty plates, Jacques spoke up. “I hope everything has been to your satisfaction, gentlemen.” When they both responded in the affirmative, he continued. “Would you be interested in ordering anything for dessert? Tonight’s special is a beautiful lavender and honey posset, it’s absolutely to die for,” he intoned, making eye contact with Peter and smiling.

Tony scowled at the interaction, sniffing lightly and narrowing his eyes a bit. “Nope, I think we’re all set…” He trailed off at the pleading look Peter gave him, big brown eyes peering over at him dolefully.

“Please, Tony,” the younger man asked, foot once again moving to rub against the inside of his husband’s leg. “I’m not sure what a, um, posset is, but it sounds really yummy, and Jacques says it’s good.” He looked at Jacques briefly, who nodded, and then back at Tony. “This is about trying new things, right?” He bit his lip for good measure, just to punctuate his little performance.

With an eye roll, Tony caved, his hand wrapping around Peter’s ankle underneath the table. He squeezed it, not ungently. “Alright,” he said, sending Jacques a quick smile as he piled the last plate into his arms. “We’ll have one of the possets, then, please.”

And he’d obviously made the right choice, as he was now watching Peter suck the remnants of the custard off of his pointer finger like it was his job to ensure that the small glass jar was spotless. “That good, sweetie?”

Peter hummed around his finger, eyes flicking up to meet Tony’s, which were once again flashing at him dangerously. His body thrummed in response, every fiber of his being screaming out in want. “It’s so good, Daddy,” he whined softly, the hand not in his mouth pressing down on the bulge in his pants. “So good.”

Sitting up straighter in his chair, Tony took a deep breath before reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He flipped through it for a moment before pulling out a stack of hundred dollar bills and slapping them down on the table. Standing, he walked around the table to Peter’s seat in order to gently pull him up and closer to him.

Peter followed willingly, stepping into Tony’s personal space and craning his neck up to that his lips could meet the older man’s. He moaned softly at the feeling of their clothed erections pressing up against each other.

“Let’s go, baby,” Tony whispered into his mouth, pulling away so that he could lead Peter out of the room and through the main dining area. He paid no mind to any of the other patrons, who were no doubt scandalized by the sight of the two of them, rumpled and clearly aroused.

Peter just flushed, grinning as he made eye contact with a few people, winking at an older lady who was looking at him with wide eyes.

Yeah, he liked people knowing he was Tony’s.

When they got back to the hotel, Tony backed Peter up against the door to the hotel room as he began to lavish his neck with kisses and bites while his hands gripped at Peter’s ass. “Fuck, baby, you look so pretty tonight,” he rasped, relishing in the way his husband jerked in his hold in response to a particularly sharp nip.

“Just for you,” Peter moaned, hands fumbling to remove Tony’s jacket. He threw it to the ground as it was shrugged off, gasping when he was lifted into the older man’s arms in order to be carried over to the bed and deposited on the covers. Kicking his shoes off, he watched as Tony did the same and rolled up the sleeves to his wrinkling white dress shirt.

Crawling on the bed to kneel over Peter, Tony reached for the buttons on the boy’s shirt and began undoing them. A low growl sounded in his throat at the first peek of black lace that became exposed. “What do we have here?”

Peter preened under his heavy gaze, pushing up onto his elbows so he could slip the shirt off his arms, exposing the black bodysuit he wore underneath. “Do you like it, Daddy?” He peered up at him from underneath his lashes.

“Like it? I love it, baby boy.” Tony trailed kisses down the teen’s chest, feeling the muscles in his abdomen twitch under in ministrations. When he reached the waistband of the dark trousers, he undid the button with practiced ease and pulled them down, pausing for Peter to lift his hips and throwing them to the floor once they were off. His eyes raked over Peter’s form, mesmerized by the sight of him spread out on the fluffy comforter, the inky lingerie creating a strong contrast. He could very clearly see Peter’s erection straining against the lace, and the wet spot that was glistening with precum.

“Daddy,” Peter whined, hips twitching upward in an attempt to get some friction. “Touch me, please.”

Tony hummed softly, eyes locking on Peter’s lips for a moment before he got off the bed in order to walk over to the kitchenette area. He rifled through the drawers for a moment, ignoring Peter’s indignant noises. When he found what he was looking for, he resumed his previous position.

Making eye contact with Peter, Tony uncapped the lid of the honey bottle and squeezed some out onto his pointer and middle fingers. “Get up, baby,” he said softly. “Kneel for me.”

Eyes wide, Peter followed the request, only wobbling a little bit as a result of the alcohol in his system.

“Now open,” Tony instructed as he brought his dripping finger’s to Peter’s lips. He groaned when the digits were enveloped in the warmth of the boy’s mouth, shivering when he started suckling, not unlike the way he treated the man’s cock. “Fuck, Peter.”

Bolstered by Tony’s words, and desperate for the sticky sweetness he was desperately chasing with his tongue, Peter whined in the back of his throat before he closed his eyes and began sucking in earnest.

Eyes blazing, Tony watched in awe as the teen fellated his fingers. His other hand moved up to grab at Peter’s unruly curls, using his grip to hold the boy still as he pressed his fingers further into his mouth.

Peter’s eyes flew open as he gagged around the intrusion, throat convulsing as Tony held him there. He whimpered, eyes watering as he struggled to breathe. He gasped when Tony eventually removed his fingers, spluttering as thick saliva dripped down his chin. “Daddy- please,” he rasped, voice already a little wrecked. “More.” His eyes flickered to the honey bottle that was laying on the bed.

Smirking, Tony snatched it up. His hands moved to his belt and began unfastening it. “Want some more dessert, baby?”

***

Peter was going to be mortified when he realized that they were able to see everything that was going on. Every lingering touch or look, every...well, every time he was with Tony was being broadcasted to SHIELD through EDITH. No matter what was going on, sensitive and tame content alike, it was all being witnessed by the agents (plus, even more uncomfortably, May and Ned.)

Unfortunately, he wasn’t aware. So it didn’t seem like he was going to stop anytime soon.

So Ned was forced to suffer through every moment of it in a room full of adults. Again, including Peter’s poor aunt. Hopefully she wasn’t paying attention, though, because it definitely would have been even more awkward for her to see. Or even think about.

Just. Ew.

Personally, he was trying to figure out if the situation was illegal. After all, Peter was seventeen. And even though technically it was all in his head, it was still explicitly sexual content that they were all witnessing, starring him.

Maybe it wasn’t the best or most relevant thing to be thinking over, but Ned was trying to ignore the reality of what was actually going on. Watching his best friend make bedroom eyes at and get railed by their deceased idol wasn’t something he was particularly fond of.

He just needed to distract himself from the...activities that kept occurring on the monitors. So he tried to keep his mind away from that part of the situation, legality and all.

What he really needed to focus on was getting Peter out. It had been nearly two weeks since Beck’s announcement that outed Peter’s identity. It had been almost two weeks since Peter had run away and gone into hiding.

They hadn’t even been able to make contact with him through May for days now. He was solely focused on Tony, just as he had been since the wedding. They weren’t sure how much longer that pattern would continue. Or if it would ever stop.

Everyone was getting more and more anxious by the day.

Ned hadn’t found any real solution yet. There were no cracks in the program, no hidden door in the code that he could sneak his way through. So far, it was all sealed tightly.

Usually, that would be considered a good thing. But it just made his job that much more stressful in the moment. They still had no location for Peter. They were yet to discover a way to shut down the illusion. All they had was the ability to send May in when Peter wanted his family there. Nothing else. And there hadn’t been much family bonding time lately.

“When do you think they’ll finally stop?” Paige wondered out loud, eyes firmly on the screen as she leaned over Ned’s shoulder.

The teen jumped at the sound of her voice, head whipping around until they nearly collided. He had no idea that she’d snuck up on him. “What? Oh.” He made a face as he processed her question. “I don’t know. Hopefully soon.” Although that was doubtful, if he was honest with himself.

She hummed in acknowledgment, nodding a little. Her eyes seemed to follow the movements on the monitor before she finally glanced away, seeming a bit flustered. “Yeah. They’ve been at it a while, huh.”

Ned had absolutely no desire to discuss his best friend’s sex life. Especially considering the circumstances. And the interest in the agent’s voice sparked something in him. Not annoyance, not at her, but something very close to that. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. “They kinda have. But I’m trying to not pay that much attention to all of it. I’d like to have something of a normal friendship with Peter when he’s out. I can’t do that if I spend all this time watching him get-“

“Leeds,” Fury interrupted, standing over the two young people.

Paige instantly straightened up when she heard him, a light flush overtaking her cheeks as she pushed her hair back behind her ear.

“Yes, sir?” Ned answered, slowly looking up at the man.

“Any change? There has to be something you can do to get his attention.” The director worked to keep up his hard exterior, but was obviously uncomfortable. As was everyone else.

Except maybe Paige. But Ned didn’t want to think about why that was.

Ned sighed, fingers absently tapping at his keyboard. “No. Nothing yet, sir. I’ve been looking for a way to slip through into the program more frequently, but everything is airtight. Tony Stark knew what he was doing.” He couldn’t keep the admiration out of his voice. Which was a little annoying, since the tech and designer in question was causing nothing but issues. “And Peter too, I guess,” he added, knowing that Peter had probably input quite a bit of his own code into the program.

“Do you think he knew that Peter would use the glasses for this?” Paige murmured.

Again with the interested tone. “Probably not,” Ned supplied, clicking away from the live-feed for a moment. He technically wasn’t supposed to do that, but it would make everyone more comfortable for the moment. And it made certain that agent Oliver would have to stop watching, at least for the time being. “I mean, maybe. But probably not.”

“Stark wasn’t exactly the picture of perfect morality, but I don’t think he ever imagined anything like this happening.” Fury shook his head, face contorted in visible discomfort. “Especially not from Parker. I knew he was a devious little shit but not like this.”

Ned was pretty much on the same page. He knew that Peter had his moments, but it was never anything more than normal teenage hormone-fueled...lust felt like too strong of a word, but nothing else was coming to mind. He’d never thought that Peter was even capable of the things he had seen playing out on the screen. Although, he really hadn’t thought about it too much. Or ever.

His best friend was objectively an attractive guy, but Ned had really never thought of him in anything but a platonic way. So this was a lot of stuff that he’d never wanted to see.

“I dunno, I don’t know much about him but he seems like the closeted-kinky type,” Paige offered with a slight smile pulling at her lips. “Y’know, eager to please and all? Maybe I’m the only one that sees it.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Ned said quickly, definitely louder than necessary. The annoyed-but-not feeling was back. He adjusted his glasses just so he could have something to do with his hands for a moment. “I’d rather just focus on getting him out. Or figuring out how to talk to him.”

“Leeds is right,” Fury agreed, looking at the screen again. “It wouldn’t be my first choice, and it pains me to say it, but I suggest you turn that back on. Just to be sure nothing gets missed. We need to send Ms. Parker back in as soon as he shows signs of wanting her back in.”

None of them believed that it would be happening anytime soon, but Ned begrudgingly clicked to the feed again.

“Great. Keep checking to see if there’s anywhere you can slip through, he’s already held onto that tech for too long.”

The man walked away, leaving Ned and Paige alone again.

Ned looked at the agent, giving her a smile. “So, any ideas? We’re still stuck with what we’ve got and I feel like I’ve tried everything.” He sighed heavily, looking back to the screen.

He expected to see more of the same, ‘the same’ being Peter engaging in some insanely sexual scene with no end in sight. But it seemed like they had finally stopped, as the screen was dark, Ned’s reflection looking back at him. Something that only happened when Peter fell asleep, therefore unable to keep the tech running.

“They’re asleep!” He announced to the room. Everyone seemed to collectively relax. No more having to watch a potential lawsuit.

And sleep was good news for Ned; that meant he was able to finally get some real work done without having to constantly check up on the feed. He would have about seven hours or so (going by how long the illusion was typically down for a night of rest) to work and figure out a way to shut things down without worrying about his friend waking up and realizing it. Maybe even stopping him.

Nothing had come of the other nights he’d been able to work, but he kept hoping that he’d get lucky soon. He was determined to save his best friend. He had to.

So he started the stopwatch to record how long Peter slept and then got to work.

***

Ned worked all night, but was still stuck exactly where he had been, in terms of progress. The only connection they had was through the small gap he’d been able to squeeze his own coding into to get May through. And he had a bad feeling that his ‘solution’ with that wouldn’t last for much longer.

He kept track of what Peter (and Tony, by extension) was doing as the morning went on, instantly becoming more focused when he heard a brief mention of family.

“I think it would be nice to spend another day with them,” Peter commented through the crackly speakers, seeming to pack up the countless bags that he’d acquired over the past couple of days.

Not-Tony hummed in agreement, moving to help his- husband? (Ned wasn’t quite sure how all of it worked. It was all just pretend, after all.) No matter what they were considered, Tony began helping Peter with gathering up his bags. “I think that’s a great idea. Haven’t seen them since the wedding, we should spend some time with them.”

“Yeah, just having everyone over would be nice. We could watch a movie or something. One of those old ones you like.”

Tony made an offended noise, glancing in Peter’s direction. “Just because it came out before, what, two thousand? Doesn’t make it old. You’re just a baby,” he teased.

“Cradle robber,” Peter shot back playfully, an easy smile on his face. Like what he said didn’t make Ned’s skin crawl. They joked so easily (Peter’s mind did, at least) and yet the age gap between the two seemed to become that much more apparent in the moment.

“Oh, quiet.” Tony waved one hand. “So are you thinking that you just want to go back to the tower? Or was there another idea in that pretty little brain of yours?”

“Just home. Please.” Apparently ‘home’ was the tower, where Tony had mentioned, because he nodded and smiled after the answer.

“That isn’t his home,” May said softly from somewhere behind Ned, causing the teen to turn around.

Ned leaned back in his chair, looking up at her. “I’m hoping that he remembers that,” he admitted. “But I’m sure he does,” he corrected quickly when he saw the woman’s expression fall.

“He has to. He can’t just- he can’t leave us like this. For someone who got him killed.” May’s voice took on a slightly angrier tone as she spoke. But the anger fizzled out just as quickly as it came. “I need to talk to him, Ned. Not just within his little script. I need to actually get through to him.”

The teen nodded slowly, watching her closely. He knew it was a bad idea. The mission so far was just to stick to the scene that Peter wanted and to follow his lead. Get close to him. May wasn’t nearly close enough yet. And Peter didn’t seem to be close to changing his mind in any way. “But Fury said-“

“I don’t care what he said,” May said sharply. “Peter needs his family. His real family. He needs me. Not the me he expects to play along with his little game.”

That was a dangerous thing to say, especially given how the director seemed to know everything that was going on. Ned hoped that Fury hadn’t heard her. That could possibly compromise the one advantage they had. “He does need you. But just- not yet. You have to go along with his scene right now. Just for a little while longer.”

The woman watched him, expression softening slightly. She knew that he was right. But there was nothing she wanted to do more than reach out to Peter and bring him home. To his actual home. “Okay. But I’m not going another week or whatever without him. I can’t do that shit. This has already gone on too long. He needs to be home. And if he doesn’t get it together, I’ll be bringing him back with or without SHIELD’s help.”

The last bit sounded like a threat, and it probably was. Ned knew that she missed Peter. He was her only remaining family member. And he missed him too, of course he did. He just knew that it was different because May had seen him break too many times before. And she didn’t want to see it again.

She left, presumably going back to the small room that had her setup for entering the illusion. If Peter was talking about family, she had better get ready to go in as soon as he expected her to.

She slipped the headset on and waited, heart aching as she watched Peter interacting with Tony through the screen. She’d never seen him look at anyone quite like that. With so much love in his eyes. It nearly broke her heart to think about how her goal was to take him away from that. But she felt less guilty when she thought about all she was bringing him back to.

His home. His family. His friends. Everything he needed was all here in the real world. And he’d find someone else to look at in that same way, she was sure of it. And when he did, it would be okay. Because it would be the right person and the right time.

Not a dead man who was the root of all his issues.

May held her breath as the scene changed before her eyes, transforming into the sleek and expensive interior of Stark tower once again. And as the couple relaxed in the living area, she saw how Peter’s expression shifted into one of more concentration.

And she heard the quiet ding of the elevator and knew it was time for her to slip into the fantasy again. She heard agent Oliver instructing her in the background, but she already knew what to do.

She let herself relax, getting pulled into the illusion until she was standing in the elevator with the rest of Peter’s ‘special guests.’ It still gave her an odd, sick feeling of deja vu to see Mary, Richard, and Ben all together like that. It was all wrong. But she had to act like everything was okay. Like she wasn’t horrified by being surrounded by family members (and her husband) that she’d already lost and grieved for years.

Her participation in the scene had to be perfectly in accordance with Peter’s intentions or it would all be ruined. At least that’s what she’d been told countless times. But as soon as the doors opened and she saw Peter again, every plan they’d ever discussed dropped to the bottom of her list of priorities.

She just wanted him to come home.

Peter glanced up once he heard the doors, beaming. “Perfect!” He held onto Tony’s arm gently, leaning against him. “Now everyone is here.”

They filed out of the elevator, going over to the couple. May couldn’t help but realize how off it all felt. Without Peter actively controlling the other figures, it was like they were hardly there. Nothing more than stand-ins.

It was terrifying to witness, making her that much more determined to bring the boy home. He couldn’t stay in this environment, living entirely in his mind with no real company. It would only do further damage to his mental state.

As soon as they were in a certain vicinity, the scene seemed to come to life. Suddenly there was soft chatter from the other people as they started carrying their own conversations.

May jumped when she felt a hand on her lower back, instantly wanting to bat the intruding touch away. She knew who it was before she even looked and forced herself to relax. She had to remind herself that it wasn’t her Ben. Letting herself get attached wouldn’t do her any favors. It couldn’t happen. She had to keep her focus on the goal of saving Peter. That’s what was important.

“It’s nice of them to have us over like this,” Not-Ben murmured to her. “Yknow, I like seeing Pete so happy.” He smiled a bit and May’s heart ached. There was the smile she remembered. Easy, slightly mischievous. All Ben.

“Yeah…,” she started, forgetting what they were talking about for a moment. All she could think about was her husband. She could finally have him back like this, maybe she saw the appeal-

No. She couldn’t let herself get sucked in.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been a huge fan of Tony Stark,” she whispered back, not caring about possible consequences. She had to keep her mind straight, and in that moment that required being honest.

���But he’s happy, May.” Ben’s eyes searched her face, but she knew it wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t seeing anything. And even if he did, he couldn’t do anything with the information he found. He was just another figment of Peter’s imagination.

“Yeah. For now,” she mumbled, looking away. She had to focus on what was wrong. So her brain didn’t get convinced that he really was her Ben.

He was too tall. Not by much, but just enough that it was noticeable. And it bothered her.

And he was too...muscular. Sure, he’d never been thin, but it wasn’t like this.

Then it clicked.

This Ben only existed as Peter saw him.

Of course her husband would have seemed like some big, strong man to the boy that he raised. He was Peter’s superhero. And Peter never saw anything different.

That fact shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

She fixed her expression, not letting her true feelings show. She still needed to focus on the task at hand, and that was getting close to Peter. She had to follow along with his scene and make sure everything was in place. Nothing could seem out of the ordinary from how he wanted it.

They all sat down, on a couch facing Peter and Tony.

Peter grinned at them, clapping his hands together happily. “Okay, so, I was thinking maybe we could play some games? That’s always fun, right?”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t cheat,” Ben mumbled with a smile. It was all just teasing.

“I would never! Mean.” The teen stuck his tongue out at him before laughing. “What should we play?”

“Monopoly?” Tony suggested, wrapping his arm around his husband’s waist.

“You’re so old,” Peter whined. Then he giggled, leaning into the touch. “Kidding. Monopoly would be fun, it just takes forever.” Good thing they had all the time in the world to play.

“And ruins families,” May said under her breath, but thankfully no one else seemed to catch it.

“No one has anything else going on, we can play for as long as we want,” the older man assured him. “Want me to go grab it?”

Peter nodded, smiling up at him. “Sure, baby. Thank you.”

Tony stood up to get the game, coming back only a moment later with the box in his hands. “I call being banker,” he said playfully. He sat down and started setting the game up on the table between all of them.

No one argued, just laughing as they kept joking and teasing each other about the entire thing.

As the night went on, the energy level never wavered. Everyone was happy and relaxed, excited to be around each other.

Everyone except for May.

She hid it well, playing along, but inside she was deeply bothered by all of it. Nothing felt right, no matter how the others were acting. None of them were real. It was just her and Peter.

She watched as Tony reached out for his “husband” again and her stomach flipped. She was tired of watching them behave like that and pretending it was okay.

“Don’t touch him.”

The words left her mouth before she could stop them and the guilt set in instantly. She had just ruined the whole mission.

But now she could try things her own way.

Tony’s hand pulled away from Peter immediately, the confusion clear on his face. And May knew that the expression was only reflecting what her nephew was feeling.

“May, he can touch me. He’s my husband, after all. We got married, remember?” Peter shot her a smile, cuddling up to the other man. He tried to brush it off as how protective she always was. Maybe that was just bleeding into his projection of her.

“No, he isn’t, Peter.” May’s voice shook as she stood up, trying to move closer to him. “He isn’t real. You know that. None of this is real.”

“You’re not real,” he said quietly, eyes wide as he tried to figure out what was going on. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But as much as he tried to focus, she wouldn’t go back into place. Things wouldn’t go back to how he wanted them.

What was happening?

“Yes, I am. I’m the only real one here. It’s just you and me, Peter.” She met his eyes, looking desperate. “It’s me, baby. It’s actually me, I’m here. Please come home, this isn’t good for you. You need to come home and give the tech to Fury so-“

“No,” he said quickly, seeming to snap out of his confusion. “Tony gave it to me. It’s mine. No one else’s. And this is my home.” He glared at her, moving into Tony’s arms more.

How had SHIELD hacked May into the program? There shouldn’t have been any way for them to do that. He’d worked on the security coding himself, adding onto what Tony had already designed.

“Did I?” Tony mumbled, looking like he was trying to remember. What tech was being used? It seemed like they were just in the tower, nothing out of the ordinary.

But May ignored him. She continued tearfully. “Your home is with me. Your home is in the *real world*, not this thing you’ve made up! You can’t stay here!” She was getting more frantic.

“No, May. I can stay here. Maybe you should, too.” He watched her, trying to keep himself calm. He needed to regain control over the illusion. Maybe he wouldn’t have to lose anything. He just had to convince her to stay.

“I’ll be doing no such-“

“What’s the issue?” Ben cut in, moving to stand next to May. But he wasn’t going to help her. He was looking directly at her. “You could stay, couldn’t you. Right here. What’s the harm in that?” He grabbed her hands, brushing against her wedding ring.

The one she knew was buried in her closet, amongst the other things that reminded her of him too much to leave strewn about the apartment but she couldn’t bear to completely get rid of.

But it all felt so real.

“You’re dead,” she whispered, her own tone surprising her. She sounded terrified and just as weak as she had in the time right after he died. “I can’t stay. You’re gone and never coming back. All of you are.” Except for Peter, who didn’t want to be saved.

Ben smiled at her, like he’d expected the answer. Then he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Like he had a thousand times when he was alive. “I’m here now, May. Isn’t that enough?”

She hated how real it all felt. How tempting it was. She hated how she could feel his lips against her skin and how easily it pulled her back into the denial she’d felt right after the accident.

Maybe she could stay. She could have him back, live out life like they were supposed to. They were supposed to be together until they were old and grey until finally going from natural causes. Old age. His murder couldn’t touch them here.

It would be so easy to just stay.

But she knew that she couldn’t. It wasn’t possible. It would only destroy her mind to stay with him. And if she wasn’t taking care of her physical body then what would happen? She had to go. Staying wasn’t an option. She just had to convince him of that as well.

She stepped away from Ben, ignoring how much it hurt her to do so. Then she turned to Peter again, moving closer. Maybe if she could just hold him-

His eyes narrowed more as he watched her. He pushed her away when she tried to get closer again, instantly feeling guilty. But he wanted to keep her away. She was trying to take everything from him. If she didn’t want to stay, fine. She could go.

But he wasn’t going to lose this too.

“Get away from me,” Peter snapped, staying close to Tony. He looked almost protective, although he knew that physically it was impossible for anything to happen. “This is my home. Here. With him. And my family.”

May was still shocked at how he’d shoved her. He’d never behaved in such a way before, no matter how things had gotten. And he’d never been so angry, not at her. Not at anyone.

Where did her boy go? What happened to him?

“Peter, please,” she begged. “You can’t live like this. It might seem good for now, but you’re just going to hurt yourself. Please, you’ve gotta shut it down and tell us where you are. We’ll come get you and everything will be okay. SHIELD is working on fixing what happened with Mysterio, you can-“

“I’m not going anywhere! And I’m not telling you where I am, you’ll just make me stop!” There were tears welling in his eyes and his voice was shaking despite how strong he attempted to sound.

All May wanted to do was wipe those tears away and pull him in for a hug like she’d done countless times before. But she had a feeling that was a bad idea.

She felt so helpless, watching him from afar. She was losing him and she knew it.

That hurt more than anything else.

“Baby, please,” she murmured gently. “You can come home. Everything is going to be okay. We can get you some help,” she said slowly.

“I don’t need help. I need this.” And no one would take it away from him. “EDITH, find however she got in. Patch the hole. Make sure it won’t happen again.”

“Yes, Peter,” The AI answered, almost sounding nervous. If that was even something she was capable of.

Fear flashed through May as she stared at him. “Peter, please, don’t shut me out.”

“You’re not taking this from me. Everyone has taken everything from me!” Tears streamed down his face freely. “I get to keep this one thing. I get to have them all back. And you can’t take that. No one can. I won’t let you.”

“Peter, you need to come home. I miss you, we all miss you so much, baby. Please!”

“I miss you too. That’s why I wanted you here. But you messed it all up. You could have stayed here with me. With Uncle Ben.” He wiped his eyes, trying to calm himself.

“I’m sorry, baby, you know I can’t.”

“So you have to leave.” He was informed that EDITH found the coding that had been put in and she started fixing it.

“I love you, Peter. Please, think about what you’re doing,” she begged him. She was pushed from the illusion, still able to see through her headset but she couldn’t interact anymore.

“I love you too. But I’ve already thought about it. This is where I belong.”

Her screen went dark.

She ripped the headset off and threw it, burying her face in her hands. She’d fucked it all up.

And she’d lost him. He didn’t want to come home.

He wasn’t going to come home.

Agent Oliver rushed in, wincing when the tech hit the wall. It was probably broken now, but that could be dealt with later. She’d just watched everything play out on the screen, just like the others had. May was the first priority. “Ma’am-“

“I’m going home.” She looked up, eyes red like she was holding back tears. She pushed her glasses up and sniffled. “I’m leaving. This entire operation is pointless.” She stood up, quickly leaving the room without looking back.

“Ms. Parker, please, we’ll figure out another way,” Paige followed after her.

“May?” Ned looked up from his computer, quickly wiping away his own tears. There was enough to deal with, he could hold it together. He still had to figure out how to save Peter. “Please, don’t go. Not yet.”

She looked at him, but shook her head. “I’m going home. I can’t...I can’t do this. I messed it up, you’ll be better off without me. I can’t help you anymore. I’m sorry.”

As she walked away, she heard other people calling after her. Probably Fury, some other agents. But she didn’t turn around. She needed to get out.

Unlike Peter, all she wanted was to go home.

The drive to the building was short, her brain in a fog the entire time. She didn’t let herself feel. She couldn’t yet. Not until she was in the safety of the apartment.

Her car was parked and she was going up the elevator before she knew it. She blinked, slightly disoriented. She kept her eyes closed during the ride up, almost convinced that she would see Peter again when the door opened.

Of course, she didn’t. And she walked to the door of the apartment, posture defeated. Her whole body felt heavy, weighed down.

As soon as she put the key in the lock, the door opened and Happy pulled her into his arms.

“The kid called me,” he told her gently.

Her heart skipped a beat when he said that, hoping maybe he meant Peter. Maybe he changed his mind.

“The one you’ve been working with. At SHIELD,” he clarified, seeing the look on her face.

With that, she promptly dissolved into tears.

May Parker was a strong woman. She didn’t cry often. And even less often around other people.

But too much had happened, even for her. And she knew that Happy wouldn’t go anywhere no matter what she said. That he would stay, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. So she let herself cry, not holding anything back.

Everything was falling apart. Each tear that fell reminded her of it all. The guilt, the hurt, the anger she’d felt. The reopened wound of missing Ben. The aching void in her heart where Peter was missing.

Her boy didn’t want to be saved. So what was there that she could do?

Maybe this was just another loss that she’d have to learn to live with.

[imjusthereforbatfam]

Never-Ending Encore, ch.6

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Chapter Summary: Best way to make a new friend in the most dangerous city in the world? Simple! Offer them baked goods as a thanks after they patch you up from almost dying in a knife fight!! So easy!!! :D

Warning: minor blood, minor swearing

---

“There you go,” Red Hood said opening the window to Eden’s fire escape from inside the apartment. She’d cautiously – and, in this instance, annoyingly – locked it earlier. “Back at Casa de Eden, safe and—”

“Don’t do that again!” she whisper-shrilled in his face.

Red Hood jerked back, surprised. The nerve! He knew full well he’d given Eden a heart attack vaulting off the fire escape like that. And he barely held on to the building while he checked her other window!

“You scared the livin' crap out of me! We’re on the ninth floor, for Pete’s sake!"

He scoffed. “Guess it’s a good thing you left the other window unlocked then, huh? Can you imagine? One little slip then, splat! No more Red Hood." He sniffed obnoxiously and wiped an imaginary tear from the eye of his helmet. "So sad."

“Oh please.” Eden rolled her eyes as she passed her groceries to him. “Like you wouldn’t have pulled out your grappling hook or something and saved yourself.”

“Oh?” He offered her his free hand, dropping the act. “So you mean I had everything under control? And you had nothing to freak out about? Imagine that.”

“Listen you,” Eden said taking his hand, allowing him to help her through the window. “You know well and good by now that I am a panicky person. The very least you could do is give me a heads up before you do something crazy like that!”

“Alright, fine. Don’t freak out, but I’m about to walk over to your table. So scary!”

She rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, I’m absolutely petrified, Mr. Hood.”

He let out a small amused sound. 

Cautiously holding her, he led her toward her kitchen table. Eden felt a little ridiculous, but he probably thought she’d keel over if he let her walk on her own. That's what would probably happen to a normal person who’d lost as much blood as her. So, despite being perfectly fine, she played along — totally not enjoying how close he was to her. Nope. Not even the littlest bit. 

But as he led her across the room, Eden couldn’t help but see her place with a fresh set of eyes. The kind a person only ever saw through when an unexpected visitor walked through their door — or, in this case, window.

Her apartment was so tiny and barren there honestly wasn’t much to see to begin with. But that didn’t stop Eden from noticing every flaw that was there. Every crumb and speck of dust. Every scuff and scratch that marked the fake wooden floor. The huge pile of “clean” clothes sitting on a chair next to her – thankfully closed – closet door. The walls void of anything but cracks, holes, and an old pair of coat hooks by the front door. 

Being in such a small space, and hoping to be able to afford something a little nicer in the not-too-distant future, Eden had decided early on not to fill it with any big or unnecessary furniture. It wasn’t like she needed much to begin with, and she didn’t want to deal with nine flights of stairs when she moved, so it had made sense.

Plus, it wasn’t like she planned on ever having guests. Even if she had people to invite over, inviting anybody to her neck of the woods would just be asking for trouble. Her neighborhood was far too… unneighborly. She’d feel tremendously guilty if anything bad happened to someone who shouldn’t be there to begin with.

But now that she had a guest, Eden severely regretted not trying to turn the rundown studio into something a little homier.

Her “living area” was a piss poor sight with only a lazily made-up mattress and a scratched-up coffee table to fill it. The mattress, which sat on the floor, acted as both Eden’s bed and couch; its sheets half sprawled, half bunched up in a way that Mama never would’ve allowed. The square coffee table – small enough for her to have carried onto the subway with only a little trouble – was absolutely covered in scattered piles of books, notebooks, and pens. Her laptop and headphones – the only things she’d splurged on with Frank’s money – sat on her bed, glaringly shiny and new compared to everything around them.

At least the tight galley kitchen was clean and tidy. She still swept and wiped everything down each night, just like she would back home. Even if the linoleum was unsalvageable in places and the counters worn down, it looked better to Eden than the living space. The colorful dishrags, oven mitts, and canisters of utensils gave it more character than any other space in the apartment. Made it more… presentable.

“By the way, please tell me that’s not your cellphone,” Red Hood groaned.

Eden glanced down at her phone, still on the kitchen table where she’d left it, right next to the tiny notebook of phone numbers. Then she looked up at him, confused.

“Of course it is… Whose else would it be?”

He made a gruff sound, stopping in front of the chair Eden had fled from... gosh, was it only an hour ago? She sat down as he set her bags in front of her with a loud thud. 

“Seriously? You went out this late and you didn’t even bring your phone? Do you still think you’re in Kansas, Dorothy?”

Eden frowned. “I know exactly where I am, Glinda.”

“I am not Glinda,” he argued.

“Then are you Elphaba? Or the Great and Powerful Oz himself?” She twirled her hand and dipped her head, giving him a quick, theatrical bow. “Your Oziness.”

He snorted. “I’m just saying it was stupid.”

“I know it was stupid, I just…”

Her eyes flickered down to the little notebook with all her friends and family’s numbers inside. Guilt pulled at her heartstrings. Then she looked to her phone.

Like her laptop and headphones, it was new and bought with Frank’s money. The same money she used to get here. The money he'd given her for trusting him with her “donation”. For agreeing to that stupid meeting in the first place. For thinking he was still her father after all these years.

What a joke.

“It doesn’t matter,” she huffed, snatching them up as she stood. “I’m just an idiot.”

She moved to the smallest of her kitchen drawers, her designated “junk drawer”. So far it only contained a few pens, a pad of post-it notes, a screwdriver, some scissors, and a hair tie. She tossed the phone and notebook in too and shut it roughly.

“Anyway.” She turned back to Red Hood. “What would you like for your thank you?”

Red Hood, who’d been watching at her intently, lifted his head slightly. “Huh?”

“What would you like?” she asked again, thinking it obvious. “I know you liked the cookies I made last week. I think it was snickerdoodles, right? Did you want some more of those or something else?”

“Or… Wait, what?”

“Or something else,” she repeated. “I know you’re keen on calling me that dumb cookie name, but I bake more than cookies, you know. Brownies, fudge, pie, cake — you name it! It doesn’t even have to be sweet either. The only thing I can’t do is make something with filling. I mean, I could but I haven’t bought a piping bag so I’d have to make do with a makeshift one; which, again, I could do, but it’d be a lot messier and I'm actually not that great at filling pastries either way, so I’d really rather not, but—”

“Wait, wait,” he said raising a hand and moving forward. “What are you talking about? Piping bags? Filling?”

“Uh, a thank you?” she said, again, like it was obvious. “You helped me a lot tonight and I want to make it up to you."

“You’ve already thanked me a few times,” he said turning his head a moment. “You really don’t have to—”

“Ohhhh no you don’t, Mr. Hood!” she said stepping forward and wagging her finger at him. “Don't you pretend you didn't go out of your way for me tonight. I know you did, and I know y’all aren’t that big on manners here, but it’s only right I go a little out of my way too to repay you for it.”

"But I can’t stay with you all night, Cookie Girl,” he teased, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter opposite her. “There might be some other dumbass buying eggs and flour in the middle of the night who gets in a knife fight. Can't leave them to bleed out on the streets, now can I?"

"I suppose not," she agreed. "Though I have to admit I'm a little disappointed." She pouted and fluttered her eyelashes. "You really don't think I'm a one-of-a-kind kind of dumbass, Mr. Hood?"

Red Hood barked out a laugh, making Eden grin.

“Oh hey, how about this!" she said jumping black to their original conversation. "I can make a batch of fudge and keep it until you have time in your very busy rescuing-total-idiots schedule to stop by again. Would that work?”

He rubbed the jaw of his helmet as he considered it, then turned to her again. “How good’s your fudge?”

She choked on a laugh at how serious he sounded and cleared her throat. “Pretty good, I’d say. Never heard any complaints and I’ve been making it about as long as I’ve been making cookies.”

He hummed comically loud, the distortion making it unharmonious. “Tempting. Very tempting."

“Annnnnd,” she said leaning forward, “it’d be another one of my Mama’s recipes. It doesn't get much better than that, Mr. Hood, I promise you.”

He hummed again. “I guess one batch of fudge couldn’t hurt.”

“Perfect!” Eden beamed, clapping her hands together. “Any allergies I should know about? Nuts? Dairy? Special calorie diet? Please say no to that one; I hate dealing with low-fat nonsense. I'll do it, of course, for you, but I won't like it.”

“Nah,” he said, sounding amused. “I'm good with whatever. Go crazy, Cookie Girl.”

“Alrighty then. Oh!” She steepled her fingertips and drummed them together, grinning. “Oh, I know exactly what I'll make you... hehehe...”

“Uh, should I be scared?” 

“Not at all, Mr. Hood!" she said far too sweetly. "You said go crazy, so crazy I'll go.”

He shook his head at her, then tilted it slightly. “You might wanna take a shower before you go too crazy."

"Hm?"

He nodded to her shirt and Eden glanced down.

“Oh. Right.” She still looked like a crime scene. She looked up at him again, sheepishly. "Sorry."

He shrugged, unbothered. "Don't be sorry. I’m just not huge a fan of blood in my fudge.”

"That's fair," Eden giggled, grateful for the ease that came from talking to him. She looked at her shirt again, grimaced, and pulled at the bloodied fabric. “I should probably go do that now actually...”

“I'll get out of your hair then," Red Hood said pushing himself away from the counter. "Try not to get your stitches wet if you can help it.” Then he stopped and turned as if remembering something. Eden waited until he finally decided to speak. “You seem to be able to hold yourself up now.”

Suddenly, remembering the role she was meant to be playing, her body self-corrected and started to droop to one side. Eden corrected that self-correction by dramatically shifting her weight to the other side then back again — like she was testing her balance in a very, very bizarre way.

“Yeah," she said standing upright again. "I’m not as dizzy as I was before.” Which was not untrue. She’d been extremely dizzy when he'd first found her and wasn’t at all now, so, technically, not a lie. “But I’ll sit down if it gets bad again. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

Red Hood nodded slowly, not saying anything. He slung the black medical bag off his shoulder and put it on the table next to her groceries.

“I’ll leave this in case you need it," he muttered.

Eden nodded, knowing she wouldn’t, then walked him to the window. “Thanks, Mr. Hood. I’ll try to replace whatever I use." She smiled. "I don’t suppose you could give me a rough ballpark on when you might come back?” 

“What,” he teased climbing back onto her fire escape, “miss me already?”

“No,” she said too quickly. “Of course not. Don’t be dumb. I’m asking for the, uh, timeline. For… fudge. Purposes. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeated, kneeling in front of her window.

Eden’s cheeks grew warmer and she looked away. “Anyway," she mumbled. "I’m home by 7 most nights. But Sunday or Monday night would work best for me.”

“Alright, I’ll try to shoot for one of those.” Red Hood glanced over his shoulder and down the street. “I really should go now, Cookie Girl.” He stood from the window and pulled out his grappling hook. “Try not to do anything too stupid while I’m gone.”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best,” she scoffed. “Try not to do anything too crazy before you come back." 

He snorted. “I’ll do my best.”

Eden smiled, becoming more sincere. "I'll see you later then, Mr. Hood."

"Yeah. See you later, Cookie Girl." 

He jumped off the fire escape and Eden leaned out her window to watch him soar across the street. He passed several buildings before landing on a rooftop, where he paused for a moment.

He looked back at her and Eden jerked in surprise, nearly smacking her head against the glass. She sent him a small, shy wave, embarrassed at having been caught watching him go, and Red Hood returned it with a raise of his hand. It looked like he might be shaking his head, too.

Eden quickly ducked back inside and shut and locked her window. She spun around and leaned against it, trying to calm her beating heart and fiery face.

She was already being stupid, it seemed. She really had no reason to be so embarrassed! People watch other people leave their houses all the time! Eden had stood out on the front porch plenty of times back home to watch folks go — sometimes with a smile and a wave, sometimes with a scowl and a rifle in her arms. So how was watching Red Hood go any different? She shook her head and sighed.

That sigh acted as a signal and started a chain reaction.

With nobody else around, her body freely began to set off all kinds of alarms. It had saved her from another encore, yes; and now it demanded its due. She was tired, starved, and just flat out weak from her body's efforts to keep her alive. 

The sudden wave of exhaustion nearly brought her to the floor. “Okay,” she mumbled, forcing herself to stand up straight. “Food, then shower, then sleep. Then everything ’ll be better,” she promised.

She stagged back to the table to take care of her groceries. Aside from a few cracked eggs, everything was still intact and, considering the adventurous night she’d had, Eden counted that as a victory.

She could have turned on the stove and heated up some leftovers. She wasn’t so hungry that she was just grabbing anything and shoving it into her mouth. But sleep's siren call was loud and clear, and Eden was eager for bed, so she ate her food cold standing over the sink. The casserole dish was empty before her stomach was full, but it would suffice until morning. 

When she turned on the bathroom light and saw her reflection, she froze. Is this what she'd looked like all night? No wonder Red Hood had been so concerned! She looked like she’d caught the red death and was bleeding from every pore! Her shirt was completely soaked through, which she’d already known, but some of the blood had also seeped into her coat and even her pants.

She took a step closer to the mirror. “Holy heck…” Red Hood agreeing to see her again was nothing short of a miracle.

The blood had completely stained the skin around her neck and chest. Only the space around her stitches was clean. The top of her hair was wild and windswept while the bottom half was damp and matted with blood. Her cheeks grew warm as some silly part of her lamented over Red Hood seeing her so gross and uncouth. She tried to fix her hair – as if doing so now would somehow change how she’d looked before – but gave up shortly after beginning. 

She turned on the shower and peeled the wet, sticky clothing from her body. Stepping into the hot water, the leftover strain in her muscles eased further, making it harder to keep herself upright. Using her nails, she picked at the adhesive part of the band-aid Red Hood had, half-jokingly, stuck to her palm before bringing her home. The cut, little more than a paper cut now, stung as soap suds and shampoo found their way into the tiny cracks of her skin.

At first, she tried to keep her stitches dry like Red Hood had told her, but gave up quickly. She was too tired for all that. And whatever consequences there were for a normal person wetting their stitches, it likely wouldn’t affect Eden much. Besides, the constant stream of warm water on her neck felt amazing. At least until washed-out conditioner seeped into her stitches. Then Eden regretted everything.

When she got out, she rubbed the mirror clean of fog to inspect her neck. It was just as she’d predicted.

Though red with irritation, the cut no longer reached down to her collarbone and the once deep gash in the crook of her neck was now but a shallow slice. By the time she woke up tomorrow, she doubted there would be anything left of the wound at all. The stitches had been, as she'd known, completely unnecessary. And now she was stuck with them. And would soon have no slice, no cut, nor wound to justify their existence. Great.

Turning out the light, she took a long breath. Hopefully, her body would make short work of the stitches and they would dissolve quickly. But until then, she would just have to keep her neck covered.

---

When she finally crawled into bed, Eden snuggled into her covers and replayed the night in her mind. For as much agony as his stitches had – and would – put her through, Red Hood had transformed her awful, lonely night into something warm and wonderful. And now, she even had something to look forward to. As she drifted off to sleep, Eden found herself smiling. Maybe, somewhere in this big, dangerous city, Red Hood was smiling, too.

She giggled softly at the thought, hoping that maybe – just maybe – he was eager to see her again, too.

Chapter 7

Kinda short this time but I hope it was still a nice read!

As always, even the tiniest feedback is loved and appreciated 🥰💕

[set-phasers-to-whump]

love

fandom: 911

whumpee: eddie diaz

heyo! this is for today’s whumpmas in july prompt: love. eddie gets beat up, and calls buck, of course. this may be a little ooc but whatever. my fic my rules. hope u enjoy, this might be terrible idk lol

It’s been a couple weeks since Eddie stopped street fighting. He’d have liked to say he’d gotten better at controlling the impulse to just punch something whenever he felt upset, but he still occasionally felt it. On nights like tonight, for example-they’d had a rough shift yesterday, and Chris was at Abuela’s, leaving Eddie all alone to stew in his thoughts. 

But instead of using his fists, Eddie had elected to go for a run. It was a bit late for a run, sure, but he knew his neighborhood, and he needed a way to burn off some of the uncomfortable energy that had been building steadily inside him all day.

He was nearly finished with his run, about a block and a half from his house, when a figure stepped out of an alley, a silhouette in the dim glow of the streetlights. Eddie slowed to a walk as he approached the figure, who showed no signs of moving out of the way.

“Can I help you?” he asked, pretty sure the answer was going to be no, shifting slightly  on his feet as he waited for something unpleasant to happen. 

The figure stepped forward a little, moving his face into the light. Eddie was startled to realize he knew the man-“Uh...Pete, right? We fought, a few weeks ago?” Eddie’d won, pretty easily, too, which gave him some confidence that, whatever this situation was going to be, he could handle it.

Pete’s lip curled at the mention of their fight. “I’ve been going to that ring for years, and suddenly some new kid comes in, gets lucky and beats me in front of my buddies? That don’t sit right with me. I’m gonna pay you back for that now, Diaz. Outside the ring.”

Eddie would’ve argued a multitude of points against this statement-it hadn’t been luck, he doubted Pete could call most of the people at the ring his buddies, there was no way in hell he was going to get beat by a man he’d already beat once...but before he could voice any of these concerns, Pete was on him, swinging a fist wildly. 

Eddie barely ducked the punch, lashing out with a hook punch that would’ve sent Pete reeling, if it hadn’t been for the kick that was suddenly delivered to his right knee, which sent him off balance and stumbling to the side.

He got back into position quickly enough, fists raised, bouncing on his feet as he waited for Pete to strike again. An uppercut, blocked by a swift downward movement of Eddie’s arm. An answering jab at Pete’s face, swept aside and transformed into a sharp strike against Eddie’s ear, which replaced the relative silence of the fight with a ringing sound that left him distracted just long enough for Pete to stick a leg behind Eddie, strike him across the chest, and shove him to the ground. 

Eddie pushed himself up halfway before a kick to his chest forced him back down, and then Pete was on top of him, and all Eddie could do was raise his arms and do his best to protect himself against the onslaught of punches aimed predominantly at his face. 

Eventually, he managed to push himself away from his attacker, sacrificing his face to a few solid, unblocked punches in the process but managing to gain enough leverage that he was able to rise into a crouch. 

Pete, evidently not particularly liking this development, bent slightly in order to shove Eddie back to the ground. Eddie took his chance then, springing to his feet, throwing a truly nasty punch into Pete’s chest, sending him stumbling backwards. He pressed on, ignoring the fatigue building up underneath layers of adrenaline, throwing punch after punch, not bothering to pay attention to when he got hit, until at last, he knew that he had nothing left to give. He collapsed to his knees, feeling the blood trickling down his face for the first time, tasting it on his lips and down his throat. He coughed, and shuffled himself backwards until his back met the cool brick of the closest building. He closed his eyes. 

He heard the diminishing, slightly staggering footsteps of Pete, who had apparently been satisfied with a job well done. And it had been, Eddie reflected, because here he was, bloody and surely bruising and leaning against the side of a building, completely alone.

Alone...he reached for his phone, and would have sighed in relief upon finding it relatively unharmed had it not been for the sharp pain that doing anything as strenuous as breathing currently caused his aching chest. 

He called Buck, of course, hardly even thinking about what he was doing. Buck would come, and help him, and everything would be okay. Everything was always okay, eventually, with Buck around. 

By the fourth ring, Eddie thought maybe Buck was asleep, or mad at him, or maybe busy? But Buck picked up just as the call was about to go to voicemail, his voice sounding relaxed and comfortable and so nice that Eddie forgot to say anything for a minute. 

“...Eddie? You okay?”

“What? Yeah…” Eddie said, sniffing in an effort to stop the blood dripping from his nose. “Can you come get me? I’m maybe a block or two away from my house, by, uh…” he looked around for a familiar landmark, and found one across the street. “That blue house that you think looks so nice, you know the one? Chris points it out when we go by.”

“Yeah,” Buck said, and Eddie could faintly hear him clattering around in his room, probably looking for some shoes or a coat. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. What happened?”

“Got beat up,” Eddie admitted, wondering how mad Buck would be. 

“Eddie.”

“Just, hurry, please?”

“I’m on my way,” Buck said, and he sounded mad, of course he was going to be mad, he probably thought Eddie was street fighting again…

It hadn't been very long after Buck had hung up that his car was pulling to a stop in front of the blue house. Eddie called to him across the street, which hurt his chest, but got Buck to look over. He jogged across the street, quickly dropping to his knees in front of Eddie, his hands moving anxiously over Eddie’s body like he wasn’t sure what to do first.

Eddie decided to help him in that regard, and attempted to stand-Buck could help him at his house, or yell at him, or whatever, but what he wanted most at the moment was to get up off of the ground. He didn’t make it very far in his attempt before he was wavering dangerously, and Buck grabbed him, taking on the majority of his weight and helping him lean against the building, upright this time. He reached for his phone, and Eddie stuck out a bloody hand to stop him. “What’re you doing?”

“Calling 911,” Buck said, like it should have been obvious.

“What? Buck, no, don’t do that, I’m fine.”

“Really, Eddie? You’re fine?”

“Okay, not fine, but I don’t need a hospital. I’ll be okay, just, take me home? Please?”

Buck heaved a sigh, but nodded, slipping an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and leading him across the street to his car. “I’m not happy about this,” he said, as he started the engine.

“I know,” Eddie said. “I’m sorry.”

They made it back to Eddie’s house in less than five minutes, and were soon in the bathroom, Eddie perched on the edge of the bathtub, leaning against the wall for support, as Buck rummaged through the cupboards for the first aid kit.

Eddie was silent as Buck got to cleaning the blood off his face, barely wincing when the antiseptic got into a handful of small cuts. Every part of his body hurt, and it was all beginning to melt into a singular pain, so that he could hardly tell what ached or twinged or throbbed, only that it all hurt. 

“Buck…”

“Yeah?” Buck said, setting down a bloody cotton ball. He looked at Eddie, and the obvious concern and care painted across his face were nearly overwhelming, so that Eddie had to look away, staring deeply into the contents of the first aid kit.

“It hurts.” 

“I know,” Buck said softly, reaching up to push a few sweaty strands of hair out of Eddie’s face. 

“Can I have…” he trailed off as a wave of pain overtook him, but Buck, fortunately, and as always, seemed to know what he was thinking, and handed him a packet of painkillers from the kit. 

“Sorry. I should’ve given you those sooner.”

Eddie shrugged, or tried to, and winced. “‘S fine.” He thought to voice the question he’d had since he’d decided to call Buck. “Are you mad at me?”

Buck shook his head, pressing a band-aid to a particularly large scrape on Eddie’s cheek. “I just want to know what happened,” he said, “but I’m not mad at you, Eddie.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Eddie told him. “It was this guy, Pete. I fought him, a few weeks ago.” He paused for a second to catch his breath.

“Street fighting again, Eddie? Really?”

“No,” Eddie interrupted quickly. “No, I haven’t fought in weeks, I swear. He came after me tonight. I was out running and he attacked me. He was angry. Maybe drunk. I dunno.”

He lapsed into silence, and Buck nodded in understanding, moving to pull Eddie’s shirt off over his head. 

Eddie attempted to help with this, but moving his arms definitely made everything hurt worse, so he let Buck manhandle the shirt, stretching it horribly out of shape, until it was off.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Buck said softly, and Eddie looked down at his chest, which had already begun to bruise, making his entire torso look like some sort of terrible painting. He looked away. It hurt enough not looking at it.

“There isn’t much I can do about this, except make sure nothing’s broken,” Buck said apologetically. “But on the bright side, once this is done, that’s it, no more poking and prodding.”

Eddie nodded silently, trying not to think about how much this was surely going to hurt. 

Buck’s hands moved gently across his torso, pressing at various spots. Eddie winced as Buck hit an especially sore spot. 

“It’s okay,” Buck said, his voice every bit as gentle as his hands. He pushed again into the same spot, feeling for broken ribs, whispering more soft reassurances when Eddie winced again. “It’s okay, love.”

Eddie’s head was aching, and thinking was hard, so it wasn’t until Buck was carefully slipping a clean, soft shirt over his head that he realized what the other man had called him. He kept that revelation to himself as Buck led him to the living room, settling him onto the couch and heading to the kitchen to rummage around in the cupboards.

“Put on a movie,” he suggested. “It’s not very late yet, it might be nice to relax a little before you go to bed.”

Eddie, however, ignored Buck’s suggestion in favor of pushing himself up off the couch and slowly stumbling to the kitchen, where he paused, leaning against the counter and looking at Buck, who had his back to Eddie, busy making what appeared to be two mugs of hot chocolate. The light from the microwave, the only source of light in the room (Buck was familiar enough with his kitchen, his home, him, that he hadn’t felt the need to turn on the lights), lit up the side of Buck’s face, and he seemed almost to glow in it, humming softly to himself as he waited. God, Eddie loved him. 

He stepped further into the kitchen just as the microwave beeped, and Buck briefly turned away from it to grab the hot cocoa packets. He stopped when he saw Eddie, barely standing upright, and hurried to his side to support him. Eddie lightly pushed him off. 

“You called me love.”

“Ah. You heard. I-”

Whatever excuse, apology, explanation, Buck would have provided was interrupted. “I love you,” Eddie said, finally locking his eyes to Buck’s, hoping that everything he felt could be seen, too. He would have held his breath, waiting for a response, but he was pretty sure he’d have passed out if he’d done that.

His only response was in the form of a question, soft and beautiful. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course.”

It was more than he’d ever dreamed of-kissing Evan Buckley, bruised and sore, in his kitchen with the lights off on a Friday night, with water for hot chocolate slowly cooling where it still sat in the microwave. It was sweet and slow and perfect, and he nearly melted, until Buck pulled away, looking at Eddie in a way he’d never been looked at before, and it was still overwhelming, but he smiled and looked right back at Buck, who gave him a grin so bright it was almost blinding.

Eddie leaned forward, trusting that Buck would catch him, and he did, pulling Eddie’s head to his shoulder and taking on some of his weight. They stood there in silence for a moment, drinking it all in, until the microwave double-beeped, reminding them of the mugs still inside.

“I better get those,” Buck whispered, pulling Eddie along with him to the microwave. He grabbed the mugs-“still warm, luckily”-and added the hot cocoa powder, Eddie never letting go of him. 

They made their way back to the living room, where Eddie promptly sank into the couch, curling up as much as his battered body would allow. Buck followed suit, sitting down a little closer than he might’ve before, wrapping an arm gently around Eddie’s shoulders. 

They turned on the TV, picking out a random movie that was about halfway through already. It was dumb and probably kind of terrible, but Buck laughed at the jokes in between sips of his hot chocolate, and Eddie thought to himself that this had to be his favorite movie ever. 

God, he was so in love. He looked at Buck, who looked back at him, smiling-he hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d kissed, and-no, he was not in love. Well, he was, but it wasn’t only him, not anymore. They were in love, and Eddie-Eddie might have been hurting and aching, but he felt wonderful, better than he had in a long time. Buck pulled him closer still as something exploded onscreen, and he leaned his head onto Buck’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He felt safe, warm...loved. He felt right. 

hope this is ok!! i know my ending is bad but we all have known that forever lol. thanks so much if you read this!!!!!

[angelteyam]

Right Here (p.p.)

Part 1/1 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!OC

Summary: When Peter watches Tony’s last breath puff from his lips, suddenly he can’t breathe anymore. So he runs. Hours later, Logan Stark finds him.

Word Count: 1,714 (what is with me and these short fics lately)

A/N: So naturally, in true awkward me fashion, I asked @underoossss for a prompt for her writing challenge a year late. She was amazing and let me do it anyway, so here it is. Thank you for putting up with my endless awkwardness I love you @underoossss, and thank you all for reading. Hope you enjoy! <3

Warnings: Blood, mentions of death/loss and grief, some swearing (it’s me though, who’s surprised), Endgame spoilers, kinda angsty (also not surprised) but also a lil fluffy

Prompt: “How did you find me?” -with my smol son Peter Parker

Prompt is in bold and italics.

--

It was never supposed to happen this way.

It was never supposed to be him.

But Peter could only watch, helpless and pale and bloody, as Tony Stark wheezed out one final breath. The arc reactor shining beneath Pepper and Logan’s fingers blinked out, and Logan let out a harsh sob and leaned her forehead against her father’s cold chest.

Peter had lost his father. He’d lost his uncle. And now, he’d lost Tony too. He knew how Logan was feeling, and he wanted more than anything to stride forward and place a comforting hand on her shoulder, or kneel beside her and wrap his arm around her. Something, just, anything.

But staring into Tony’s lifeless eyes, Peter’s heart raced beneath his chest, and a fresh wave of tears started to roll down his cheeks. To be honest, he was really fucking tired of always having to be the strong one.

He didn’t want to be a hero anymore. Not without Iron Man there.

So without another word, Peter turned and ran.

Later on, he was ashamed of hightailing it out of there. But no one blamed him. Especially not the people who really understood all that Tony was to Peter. And he would always be grateful for that.

But right now, Peter really couldn’t care less what anyone else thought of him. He shot web after web and swung through town after town until he couldn’t swing anymore and his breathing came in harsh gasps.

Finally, he collapsed in a dilapidated, abandoned fair ground. Haunting remains of broken down ferris wheels and roller coasters littered the grounds, but when Peter clambered up to the top of one of the taller rides, he found himself finally able to breathe.

He could see the sun start to sink below the horizon, turning the clouds pink and orange. The twinkling lights of multiple towns stretched across the skyline, almost appearing like stars in a vast ocean of forest.

But even though the view was peaceful, Peter’s breath he’d taken in just moments earlier still came out a strangled cry. And before he knew it, he was a heaving, sobbing mess.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

With each curse, Peter smacked his palms on the metal railings of the roller coaster beneath him, the structure wobbling precariously, threatening to crumble just as Peter was now. Large tears rolled down his cheeks, streaking through the blood and the dirt, and heavy sobs ripped through his throat. It took hours for the tears to finally stop, but when they did, Peter’s voice was hoarse and the sky had gone dark, the stars coming out to join him.

Logan had been watching from the tree line since the sun finally dipped below the horizon. But she only stepped forward, her suit glistening, once Peter had finally calmed himself down. She knew how it felt to want to be alone.

She flew up to the top of the roller coaster, landing a few feet away from Peter. The metal of her suit opened and allowed her out, and she balanced on the beams for a few strides before she sank down next to him, a mere foot of distance between them. 

You could’ve cut the silence with a knife. Neither of them dared to speak for what felt like years. But finally, Logan heaved a deep sigh.

“I gotta say,” she said softly, “You pick a nice place to grieve, Parker.”

“How’d you find me?” Peter replied, his face hard. His eyes refused to meet hers even though she was looking at him, her eyes scanning over his broken features.

“You’re not the only one who can hack a multi-million-dollar suit, you know.”

She flashed him her phone, which had a GPS app of her own design on the screen. A miniature icon that very closely resembled Peter’s mask was flashing on the screen, its location in the exact same spot where Peter now sat.

Peter scoffed, turning his head away. Watching him now as he started to break down in front of her, shaking his head, her heart snapped in two all over again.

“I lost him too, Pete.”

Peter looked over then to find Logan shrinking in on herself, suddenly looking a whole lot smaller to him than she had before. A weak whimper escaped her lips before she folded, crumbling, her head collapsing into her hands.

Peter watched, mouth open wide with despair, as Logan sobbed into her hands. The world around her had never seemed so loud, and the weight of her grief was closing in on her. And Peter’s silence was only making everything worse.

So he scooted forward along the beam until his legs met hers, and he pulled her forward into him so their chests were pressed together. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed his head into the crook of her neck.

Peter couldn’t help the tears that now returned to his eyes. Only this time, he didn’t fight them. He just sat there, holding Logan Stark together in his arms, and trying to hold himself together too. But as he choked out a weak sob, he felt a little lighter. In terms of pain and grief, him and Logan were feeling the same thing. And he knew she wouldn’t particularly care if he cried with her.

They sat there, wrapped up in each other, best friend against best friend, until Logan’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She sniffed, pulling away to check it, only to type out a quick response and tuck it back in her pocket. She melted back into Peter’s chest, his arms coming up to wrap around her again.

“It was just Pepper,” Logan muttered, reading Peter’s mind. All Peter could do was hum in response, his lips pressed into her shoulder.

More hours passed, and Peter started to feel himself grow weak from exhaustion. Logan was equally as tired, so they finally left as the moon began to set. Peter held on to a web wrapped around Logan’s middle as she flew through the air, landing gently outside of Tony and Pepper’s lake house.

All of the lights in the house were on. Happy was standing on the front porch when they landed, and when they finally touched the ground, he burst through the door of the house. Not moments later, Pepper and Morgan came rushing through the door, followed by Happy, and ran across the front lawn to pull Logan into their arms.

“I’m sorry,” Logan squeaked as Pepper stroked her hair, hushing her, Morgan clutching at her older sister’s legs.

Peter had to fight hard not to cry when Morgan looked up at him, big eyes swimming with tears, and rushed over to him, wrapping her small arms around his hips. He bent down, releasing her grasp for just a moment, only to sink down onto the ground and pull her into his lap.

Seeing Morgan made him struggle to breathe. He’d lost his own parents when he was nearly the same age she was, and he hated that she would have to go on living in a world without her dad – without Tony.

He hated it for Logan, too.

A few minutes later, Pepper and Logan pulled Morgan and Peter off the ground and brought them inside for hot chocolate. Pepper fed them all, Happy helping to dole out food. Pepper called May, and then pulled Peter by his hand to the bathroom. He waited there for a few minutes until she returned, brandishing a soft white towel straight from the dryer, along with a clean set of pajamas.

He didn’t want to think about where the pajamas came from.

But after his shower, he dressed himself in the soft sweats and old t-shirt nonetheless, finally rid of the restricting material of his suit. When he finally exited the bathroom, Pepper was waiting for him, clutching a photo in her hands.

“I thought you might want this,” she said softly, handing Peter the photo he and Tony had taken as an alibi for the “Stark Internship” for May.

Peter felt himself start to go all soft looking at the photo, and he had to wipe at his eyes to keep more tears from falling. But when he looked up at Pepper, he was relieved to find her eyes were misty too.

“Thank you.”

Pepper gave him the guest room to crash in for the night. He wasted no time in sinking into the soft bed, the covers enveloping him in warmth. Almost immediately, he fell asleep.

--

Peter awoke a few hours later to the door of the guest room creaking open, Logan peeking her head in.

“Pete?”

“Hmm,” he murmured in response, his eyes blinking open slowly.

“I can’t sleep.”

Peter shifted, rubbing at his eyes, holding open the covers so she could climb in. The bed sank with her weight as she clambered in, folding herself into Peter’s bare chest, his arms coming to wrap around her torso.

Peter was so close to falling asleep again when Logan sniffed. “I really miss him.”

He had to swallow the lump rising in his throat before he responded, “I miss him too.”

When Logan turned over, she found his big brown eyes boring into hers, and she cuddled into his chest. He pressed his chin to the top of her head. Her weight alone was enough to comfort him, and he allowed his eyes to close.

“Do you think,” she whispered, “Do you think he’s in heaven?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I don’t like the feeling of him not being here,” Logan croaked, a few tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

“Me neither,” Peter whispered, kissing her hair. “But knowing your dad, he probably found some way to stick around.”

Peter pulled away then so he could look at her, one of his hands coming up to gently smooth over her cheek, wiping away the stray tear that had escaped from the corner of her eye. Looking at her then, he finally found the strength to smile, just a little, before he spoke.

“And if I know anything about Iron Man, he’ll always be with us,” Peter added, his hand that had been on Logan’s cheek coming to rest gently over her heart.

“Right here.”

Taglist: @parrkerspeters @starksparker @madmadmilk @gottaletgopete @hollandroos @parkerpuffwrites @dontmindthefangirling @sunshinehollandd @hollandsosterfield  @aestheticgaybish @eeyore101247 @underoossss @sakaariians  @rosiemarie 

A/N: woo, one shots for the win!! this is my third fic I’ve posted this week wow what is happening I’m so proud of myself XD

[toledoendo]

You’ll Rise Up, Free and Easy

This is the second story in my series Amphora, an alternate-reality historical fan fiction based on the characters Tony Stark and Peter Parker from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The characters’ personalities remain mostly intact, but I’ve inserted them into my own reality for them. The series is set at the turn of the 20th Century.

This story is considerably darker than the first; it follows Tony Stark’s difficult childhood. Please exercise safe reading-- the story is not meant to hurt anybody! 

I’ve used this platform to purge some personal demons through the metaphor of child abuse. Keep yourself safe and feel free to read the next story in the series (at this time, it is unwritten) as it will not have that focus.

Story Summary: Peter Parker, a brilliantly talented ceramicist-in-training, has been Tony Stark's apprentice for ten days. To his delight, he's able to work closely with Tony and begins to learn more about him and bond with him. However, just as it seems that they are becoming an established part of each other's lives, tragedy puts distance between them.Peter strives to be a source of comfort and support for Tony during a season of grieving, adapting how he shows love to the ways Tony knows how to accept it.

Read the story after the break.

Chapter One: “Chokeberry and Baby Cheeks”

Early May, 1868

“Young Sir?” Jarvis peered around the trunk of a young chokeberry tree at the youth who was crouching in the knoll at its roots. He stepped around, keeping a gingerly distance for he could see that the boy was vulnerable, like a raw nerve.

Tony, blushing from exertion and violence, sat panting a few moments longer, ignoring Jarvis. He clutched at his right fist which was torn across the knuckles. Sweat was heavy on his face and neck and the smell, like well water, hung on him. There was blood peeking under his nose, a thin film across his teeth, as well as a cut on his left eyebrow.

Finally, Tony swallowed to force the remaining moisture evenly in his dry mouth and said, “Is Father going to be home tonight?”

Jarvis removed a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to him. “To my knowledge.” When Tony didn’t take the handkerchief, Jarvis pressed it under his nose himself. Tony resisted, but ceased struggling almost immediately. “Perhaps, though, when he arrives tonight, you’ll already be in bed, Young Sir.”

Tony looked up at him and said in a questioning way, as though expecting betrayal. “You’ll tell him.” Then he added, without waiting for an answer, “Damn British butlers and their sensibilities…” Tony took over the pressure on the handkerchief and Jarvis stood upright again.

Jarvis said sternly, “Let’s leave damnation to the clergy, shall we, sir? Unless you’re studying to become one?”

Tony scoffed then lowered his gaze deferentially.

Offering a hand, Jarvis said, “Strand up, please; crouching on the ground like a gopher is not dignified for a young man.” Jarvis noticed Tony roll his eyes as he obeyed; the butler stifled a smile. The boy pinched the handkerchief and removed it. Jarvis saw with relief that his nose was not bleeding anymore.

When Tony was standing before him, meeting his eyes, Jarvis leaned toward him confidentially. “As far as a British butler’s sensibilities are concerned, I am your father’s servant, not a spy. I have no inclination to report your behavior only for the sake of it.”

Tony listened, blinking at him passively.

Jarvis’s voice softened. “The only time I might do so is if I deem your actions would lead you to greater danger than you would receive at Master Stark’s hands. Are we at an understanding?”

At this Tony smirked and Jarvis nodded in a decisive manner. “Besides, any injurious behavior I witness from you, I shouldn’t wonder to think that we two could reach an understanding without need to concern your father.” He gave Tony a poignant look. “Do you agree, sir?”

This time Tony nodded but still smirked. He seemed to remember the times Jarvis could have handed him over to Howard, but didn’t. That was good enough for the boy to trust him. On those occasions, Jarvis would let him explain himself, rant, cry, and blame others, firmly correcting him if he was disrespectful, but otherwise allowing him to fully express his grievances. Then, he would speak to Tony solemnly but patiently, like he was a man.

“Now,” Jarvis said, shifting to a more curious tone, “might you inform me what foreign object collided with your face so as to leave you in such a state? Perhaps also, what response to the object you gave?”

Tony erupted. “I was trying to keep these boys from carving up my friend’s tree!” Unleashing his pent up desperation caused Tony’s voice to crack. His hand swung wide behind him to indicate the chokeberry tree. “He told them not to and they keep coming back to do it anyway! And they laughed about it because they knew it upset him. He’s real keen on this tree for some reason.”

“Your friend, Master Potts?” Jarvis asked.

Tony nodded. He huffed and tried to hide his emotion by chewing on his lip. There were little tears at the corners of his eyes. He was much more comfortable showing anger than any other emotion, even joy. Often he would mask his feelings with shouts, huffs, shoves, scowls, glares— or sarcasm and jokes, which Jarvis considered a “creative form of aggression.” Of course, if his father were around, he adopted a sullen disposition, or, at times, was an avatar of Howard Stark’s own persona. When Howard was away, his son became Tony again -- guarded, but more volatile. However, Jarvis had a talent for flaying the rage from the sadness or fear underneath.

“The other boys wish to carve it, you say?”

“Yes, you know, Jarvis, like their initials or something, like people do.”

“I see, sir,” Jarvis said and paused to think. He looked at the chokeberry tree; it was still a sapling, though nearly mature. The foamy white buds swayed in their clusters in the Northern wind.

Tony also turned and looked at the tree. “Samuel thinks the flowers look like lace. He’s kind of silly, but a good kid .”

Jarvis was slightly amused by Tony’s condescending use of the term “kid” when he was scarcely eleven years old himself. “A special tree indeed, sir. However, I couldn’t advise you to endeavor to stop them by force.”

Tony shuffled. Though he rolled his eyes, Jarvis felt respect in him, so he continued. “Or your fists for that matter.”

“We ought to put up a wall.” Tony muttered. “With barbed wire.”

“A creative solution, though, it would quite obstruct the view, wouldn’t you agree?” Jarvis deadpanned.

Tony sighed through his nose. “What about a trapping pit, then?”

Jarvis examined the grass stains on the knees of Tony’s trousers. “Better widen the scope of your innovation, Young Sir.” He replied absently while considering how he could clean the blood from the shirt and jacket so that Mrs. Stark wouldn’t notice. She kept strict inventory of her son’s wardrobe, particularly when they were abroad, as they were now.

Then, he remarked, catching Tony off guard, “I am pleased to see you’ve made such an important friend here, sir.”

Tony sniffed and shrugged. After a couple kicks at the ground beneath, he said: “Jarvis, I’m hungry. Is it luncheon yet?”

“You should just have time to bathe and make yourself presentable, sir.”

Jarvis led him back to the Starks’ Toronto estate by a covered path in the garden that was seldom used so no one would see the rough condition he was in.

January, 1903

When Peter threw open the front door of his and May’s house in Queens, Tony couldn’t help but notice the cotton scarf wrapped over his ears. “Mr. Stark! Come see how my latest test glaze turned out, sir!” He stepped quickly out of the way so Tony could enter and held out his arms to take his mentor’s coat, muffler, and hat. “I’ve decided to leave off on the layerings of celadon and copper red glazes and am trying some strike firing techniques with a different glaze mixture.”

Tony’s brow knotted in concern, but he remarked, lightly, “Interesting head adornment, Ms. Mozart. Do you have a toothache?”

Peter touched the thin cloth around his head. “Oh. No, May wants me to wear this to keep my ears warm.” He added, as though trying not to lie: “I’ve had an earache the past few days.”

“Small wonder!” Tony scolded. “I seem to recall you running around most of Christmas week in the icy wind with no hat. Probably blew all manner of viruses into your empty head!”

Peter looked at him unhappily. “But! I’m not contagious, the doctor says. I don’t even have a fever! Anymore.”

Failing to hide his amusement as Peter fell over himself verbally, Tony waited and said, “Easy Pete. No one’s planning to take you behind the barn and shoot you.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’ll get you sick, Mr. Stark.” Peter said. “I’ve been so looking forward to experimenting with you on peach bloom glaze. And, well…” A look of contrition contorted his face. As he began wringing his hands, Tony removed his coat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. It’s selfish of me.”

Tony hung his hat on the hook and then placed a hand on Peter’s head, tousling the scarf along with his curls. “You can’t run me off so easily, kid. I’m not worried over earaches.”

Peter grinned and led him through the hall and dining room, into the kitchen and to the scullery, his little ceramics alcove.

“Read me the recipe notes for this one,” Tony said. He tapped one of the five flat slats of clay arranged before him. The tiles reminded him of dominoes and he came to enjoy the plink clink sound when he handled them. On each was the same glaze mixture but each had undergone a variant firing schedule.

Peter hurriedly finished chewing a piece of sponge candy so he could complete the request. Tony had brought over a box of the candy as a treat while they worked. (“Pepper would like you to believe this is a present from her , but, as I am the one who brought it to you, and in this weather, I think the credit is due to me. So, you’re welcome.”)

Peter leafed through his small notebook. “For this test,” Peter read, “Gerstley Borate, 10.7%; Whiting, 10.7%; NC-4 Feldspar, 40.3%...” Tony nodded as he listened. He plucked the tile from the table and rubbed his thumb over it absently. Peter finished. “Then I added the tin oxide.”

“What percentage to the mixture?” Tony asked. He returned the tile and picked up his favorite. The freckling green, created by the high reduction period of the firing, spider-crawled through the patchy blush of peach. It truly bid his heart to rush at the beauty.

“.5% but I’m thinking of adding a higher percentage next test.”

Tony smiled and looked at him. “Why’s that?”

Peter was leaning eagerly toward him across the table, resting most of his weight on his elbows beneath him. Like a small animal, his eyes were round and animated as he piped: “More tin oxide will create a milkier effect on the glaze. Right?”

Proudly, Tony nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

Peter seemed to realize that his mentor was pleased with him and he ducked his head, grinning. It was such an unrestrained expression of delight that Tony looked away. Peter had received so little guidance from his previous master that the kid was starved for feedback. Blessed now with more attention, Peter was accelerating in his pursuit of the craft.

Tucking away a surge of affection for the boy, Tony followed up, confirming, “That’s the effect your artistic little heart is set on, right?”

Peter chose another piece of sponge candy from the box. “Yes,” he said and Tony caught how that dreaminess he sometimes got began to cloud his eyes. “The glaze is meant to resemble a ripening peach, sir, with green mottles on a blushing pink.” Peter crunched the candy contemplatively then spread his fingers over his cheeks. “Well, I was very much hoping for a kind of baby’s cheeks look.”

“Baby’s cheeks?” Tony asked and he took some candy, too. “Is that a technical term? Or one of your isms?”

Peter blushed in answer. “Do you know what I mean, Mr. Stark?” He pantomimed a moment, to illustrate his words. “Have you ever held a baby close and looked at their cheeks?”

A slight twitch ran across Tony’s face, but he answered, unaffectedly, “Yes, kid, I have had occasion to see a human in infancy.”

Clicking his tongue, Peter replied, “That’s not what I meant, Mr. Stark.” He mined again, as though it would help. His nose nuzzled into the crook of his elbow. “Have you seen how a baby’s cheeks are so fair that their skin mottles when warm? And they get so rosy, sir?”

“Do they?” Tony said. He was trying to be patient with Peter’s reverie. Normally, he would sit back and enjoy the funny expression on the kid’s face and the rambling explanations for his thoughts that only made it more challenging to understand how his mind worked, but this was a tender subject for Tony.

He and Pepper were unable to have children, except through adoption. Pepper was anguished by the idea, though, so they never had. Instead, they supported and improved the orphanages and children’s homes of New York as well as they could, as benefactors.

“My friend, Ned— his mother had a baby a couple years back, with his step-father and she let me hold her— well, actually his mother had me and Ned hold her for a few hours while she cleaned and mended and took a nap and cooked… but, his sister was pretty as a picture, sir! Her cheeks would go dusky when she cried and they looked like red onions.” He laughed. “It wasn’t a nice sound she made, though.”

Tony regarded him with a gnarled expression. “You’re a rare one, kid. Not many find the inherent attractiveness of colic.”

“Will you and Mrs. Stark have a baby, Mr. Stark?”

Bucking a little, Tony reminded himself that this was a harmless question. Peter was silly-hearted and likely excited by the prospect of a child entering his life, even by some distant channel. Tony composed the ache in his chest. He sniffed and said, “Not likely. My lifestyle is not very conducive for raising a kid. Besides, I have my hands full as it is.”

Peter blinked. He said, “With what?” Innocence was plain on his face.

“With what?” Tony snorted indignantly.

“With me?” Peter asked, even more innocently.

Tony pushed out of his seat and marched across the floor. “Bonehead! I do have a life beyond you and your ceramics. I am a very busy inventor, businessman, and philanthropist. You may have heard.”

Peter stared at him, perplexed.

Tony turned back. His arms flapped at his sides as a segue. “Well, are we going to increase the amount of tin oxide or should I return to my heavily-booked agenda? I’m sure Pepper would not mind having me chained back in the office, if you have no more need of my time.”

“Yes, sir!” Peter said. He managed to hide his smile from his flustered mentor as he donned his apron.

[dammit-stark]

good ol’ cousin sam

I‘m rewatching Spiderman: Homecoming and I just realized that the P.E teacher’s name is Mr Wilson so now allow me to present to you my theory that this Mr Wilson is the legendary Sam Wilson’s underperforming cousin... this was originally a head canon but I gotta admit this became not-a-headcanon many, many words ago

no pairing - - 2.3k words

While the family favorite Sam joins the Armed Forces to fight for his country, the other Wilson cousin- let’s call him Raymond, Ray to his friends and family- goes to a local community college and receives a degree in physical education.

Sam’s a few years older, has been climbing the ranks in the military for a few years before Ray even gets into college, and he continues to fight while Ray passes math tests and writes essays that get torn up with red pen. Ray graduates middle of his class. 

The whole family comes to the graduation, except for Sam who’s stuck overseas. Sam sends a real nice congratulatory card anyway and Ray tacks it up on his dresser right next to the card from their Nana who passed and above the picture of the whole family ten years prior.  

Too soon, cousin Sam gets discharged from the military with full honor for some unfortunate freak accident that leaves him injured and itching to fly. Almost all the details surrounding the accident are classified, leaving all their nieces and nephews guessing after supernatural means or clandestine alien attacks. Their imaginative guesses leave Sam trying not to break out into hysterical laughter and Ray rolling his eyes over and over again. Sam missed being home. Ray just likes that the whole family is back together again, complete and whole and good for the soul. 

Ray starts coming back home on the weekends for a few weeks to make sure his cousin is doing alright.

At Auntie Glinda’s, they watch football and eat Uncle Greg's homemade chili as if they were teenagers again. It’s like any other weekend for Ray. It feels weird for Sam, who hates having his feet on the ground and his hands in his lap, but there’s nothing anybody can do about it. He puts on a smiling face, does his best to slip back into the family, but it’s all a little too forlorn to fit right, like the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle had a rip in it and the picture is just barely incomplete.

Sam refuses to watch Top Gun when little Billy so sweetly asks. He helps Auntie Glinda with dinner, but makes himself scarce otherwise. Ray notices, but doesnt know what to make of it.

After a few weeks, Ray stops coming by in all his free time, spends some time at his apartment, gets a cat named Hammy, joins a gym. Sam doesn’t need him. In fact, Sam up and leaves for DC, as independent and ready to move as ever. Before he leaves, he tells Ray that if he was gonna be grounded, he couldn’t imagine not at least trying to help others, whatever that means. Ray just smiles and nods and tries to imagine himself outside of New York. He just can’t see it.

Again, they part ways; things are good.

Then, around the same time that Ray gets his first job at a public school in the center of Queens, Sam meets Steve Rogers.

It’s not the best job in the world, a lot of the kids mouth off and tend to complain when they play anything that isn’t dodgeball, but it’s a job and it pays the bills. On Fridays, Ray orders himself a pizza from the Domino’s down the street and he gets take-out from the Thai place by the school every Wednesday. He’s not saving children in a third world country somewhere like his cousin always did, but he’s happy enough and that’s all that matters.

Out of the blue one day, Ray gets a job offer for a teaching position at a private school for gifted teenagers. He doesn’t remember ever applying for the position, but it comes with a pretty hefty pay raise and an office that doesn’t smell suspiciously like a festering rat problem, so he accepts the offer.

Completely coincidentally, his promotion coincides with the rise of Queens’ Amazing Spiderman on the public’s (and the Avengers’) media radar. Ray had watched in awe as the news revealed the first footage of their local vigilante. Another superhero? A lot of people complain, but Ray doesn’t mind. He never really had a problem with spiders anyway. Birds had always irked him, something about the freakish wingspan and their frail yet powerful little bodies, but spiders were always fine. He spends the night after learning the moniker of Queens’ new hero holed up in his bedroom under the covers watching Spider-Man compilations on his laptop. Late at night, when his brain slows down and he sees that red suit when he closes his eyes, Ray finds himself imagining Sam’s face beneath that mask. 

Cousin Sam just so happens to move back to New York around the same time, too. Another complete coincidence. He starts coming around and visiting about once a week or so. Thai night turns into burger night with frequent guest appearances by Sam, food courtesy of the family diner down the street. The nice family have his and Sam’s order down pat within a month.

Once everything settles and Ray gets used to the promotion, he decides the job’s actually pretty nice. The kids are generally less athletic and less enthusiastic than at his old school, most too busy with their nose stuck in a book or worrying over the state of their manicure to go after the dodgeball, but they’re attentive and for the most part are too afraid of failing his class to dare sassing him too much. Once a week he has to supervise a detention, but considering that it’s a school full of suck-up geniuses, detention is usually pretty barren. At the very least his college debt is nearly paid off. That’s cool.

The same day that one of his students, Pete, stumbles into class with a black eye and a wicked limp for probably the third time, Tony Stark shows up at school.

The rumors about his presence flutter incessantly in the Teacher’s Lounge like the words themself has sprouted wings and were determined to bother each and every person in the room. The science teachers sound like they‘re about to pass out from excitement. Raymond himself doesn’t really get what the big deal is- Tony Stark is just another person. Sure, he had a big shiny suit and he fought crime or whatever, but his cousin Sam fought for the people of the country, too, but you don’t see people wigging out over Sam’s sheer presence.

Ray really just wants to eat his lunch, that’s it. He had picked up a chicken salad sandwich from the bodega under his apartment before heading to work that morning and Nancy made the best chicken salad. A quiet lunch unfettered by gossip. That day, Ray learns that history teachers are surprisingly interested in gossip considering their coursework was based on 200 year old facts.

The last thing Ray expects when he gets back to his not-rat-infested office after lunch is for Tony Stark to be waiting for him. It’s quite a turn of events.

“You’re Tony Stark,” Ray says dumbly from the doorway of his own office. He’d just spent half his lunch being forced into a one-sided conversation about the recent advancements of StarkTech upstate, something about unprecedented, unimagined technology that the market itself isn’t ready for. One man did that alone, tinkered in his office at two am and all but broke the stock market with the sheer power of his brain. This man is standing in Ray’s office. It’s weird. 

Inside, Tony Stark is leaning back in Ray’s creaky office chair, his feet propped up on the desk next to a precariously tall stack of physicals that Ray hadn’t taken the time to peruse through.

Tony Stark peers over his orange tinted sunglasses to reveal a devilish black eye that he seems entirely unperturbed by. He lets his feet fall to the ground with a thud and his face is entirely serious, “Coach Wilson, right?” He says, “Come on in. Take a seat. I won’t bite.”

Ray inches forward, eyes narrowed. There’s a billionaire in his office, beckoning him in, and he doesn’t know why. This wasn’t something that happened to him every day.

As Ray sits, Tony rises from the office chair to peruse the degrees hanging on the wall. Ray remembers one of the science teachers gushing about how Tony Stark went to MIT or some super fancy college with an acronym or something. Tony flicks the bobblehead on the shelf beneath the frames and Wilson can’t look away.

Neither of them says anything. Tony watches the oversized head bobble on the bookshelf as Ray watches the mysterious billionaire. The quiet aches. 

“That chair has awful lumbar support by the way,” The billionaire says suddenly, picking up an old baseball cap and sniffing it carefully. His hands are always moving. Ray sits back in the chair himself, but doesn’t say anything about it. The furniture creaks.

“Mr Stark,” Ray says eventually, “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Actually,” Stark says, turning around, his face serious for the first time since he’d stepped into the office, “I believe there’s something I can do for you.”

Ray realizes then that Stark’s suit is wrinkled, a possible stain forgotten at the hem of the graphic tee shirt. Every description ever given about Tony Stark has provided an image of pristine carelessness, of confidence and ease. Tony Stark’s hands can’t seem to stop twitching. It’s kind of unsettling.

“Have you watched the news lately?” Stark asks.

“I’m more of an ESPN guy myself.”

Tony hums thoughtfully, glances over at the wall of community college degrees for a second time.

“From what I’ve gathered, your cousin is Airman First Class Sam Wilson. He visits you every other Wednesday, checks in on you,” Ray skin prickles. Suddenly, Tony looks like steel, “Is this correct?”

Ray just nods.

“An incident occured in Germany. Your cousin was involved.”

Ray had long been told tales of his cousin’s heroics. Sam usually told them with an air of modesty, a dash of pride. Tony doesn’t spare him the expense.

“Was he injured? Is he okay?”

An out-of-place expression of hilarity traverses Tony’s face And he all but laughs, “No, no. Our, um, friend Sam is fine, scrapefree for the most part actually,” His eyes go weird and unfocused for a moment before returning to Ray like a laser gone haywire, “Unfortunately, he was caught on the wrong side of things. For an indefinite period of time, he will be in prison. Mr Wilson, your cousin is a criminal.”

No. Ray’s cousin was no criminal. No way. Sam joined the army, went off and fought somebody else’s battle instead of getting a degree, instead of living a safe life. He has a big heart with this wretched piece of PTSD shoved between its plates of steel. Sure, things got a little twisted after the whole thing with his friend up there in the sky, but he would always be a good man. Sam Wilson was a hero. Not a criminal. Tony Stark was supposed to be smart, not slanderous, and definitely not wrong. 

“I think you’re talking about the wrong Sam Wilson.”

Tony’s hands twitch, “No, no, I think I’ve got the right one.”

A silence befalls them.

“I don’t believe you,” Ray accuses. Just because Tony Stark was a billionaire with an ego didn’t mean he could just waltz into somebody else’s office and defame their cousin right to their face, “You’re lying.”

“Tell me,” Stark says, “How is it you think you got this job? All on your own?”

Ray stares.

“Yeah, no,” Tony wipes a finger along a dust covered bookshelf, circles the office again. It’s a pretty small office. He paces over his own footsteps as he continues, “Sorry to break it to you, but you were all part of the plan. Wilson’s plan. But he- he messed up.”

Tony looks hurt. There’s a crack in the facade, a break in the airwaves. Ray’s so used to coaching emotional teenagers through the inevitable products of sleep deprivation and hormones every day, he spots it from a mile away. Tony continues like it’s nothing, a tendril of something else, not pain or betrayal or some drama that’s far beneath his celebrity status. God, Ray’s so tired.

“Where’s Sam? He demands, leaning forward against his desk, “Did you do something to him?”

“Sam Wilson is currently located in the most secure prison in the world. In the middle of the Atlantic. Otherwise undisclosed. Confidential, you have to understand.”

Ray’s eyes are narrowed dangerously on Tony Stark.

“What could he possibly have done?”

Ray isn’t thinking about himself anymore, he doesn’t care if he got his job through improper means or through hard work or through whispers up a chain of command. He just wants to know what happened to his cousin. He wants to know what happened to the good, caring, hard-working man that he had deigned to call family.

“Look,” Tony supplants, hands waving animatedly as his feet finally remain still, “It’s all very complicated. He broke some laws, defied the UN. It’s where he belongs, he put himself there,” Tony only looks distantly sorry, a regret misplaced from another dimension of time maybe, “In the end, he lost his title.”

“What title? I know for a fact that my cousin hasn’t been in service in years.”

Tony just stares, eyes narrowed, “Do you not know?”

Ray remains quiet, and then Tony’s eyes grow. He takes a seat opposite Ray, hands gripping the ledge of the metal desk as he peers into the confusion flashing across Ray’s express, “Oh my god, you don’t know.”

Ray crosses his arms, and Tony has to hand it to him, he’s certainly an indignant man, “I know everything I need to know about my cousin, Mr Stark. You don’t need to come in here and tell me things that don’t need to be said. I’d like it if you left.”

Tony’s grip tightens. He looks… confused, maybe a little out of place, suddenly uncomfortable or maybe doubtful or maybe they’re one in the same, but he makes no move to rise, “How do you not know?” The silence is enough, “Raymond,” He says seriously, “Sam Wilson is- was- an Avenger. He went by the codename Falcon. He had gone on nearly fifty missions with us. He lived in the Tower most weekends. You didn’t know?”

Ray doesn’t believe it.

While he was here, in the middle of dingy ol’ Queens with a bachelor’s degree from an unassuming college and a neatly laid out weekly menu, Sam was off in Manhattan lounging around with billionaires and saving the world over and over again. Then again, maybe it isn’t so out of the question, it’s just… a lot at once.

“Why are you telling me this?” Ray demands. His head is starting to hurt. Who would have thought that megalomaniac superheroes could be worse to deal with than moody, brainiac teenagers being forced to exert themselves physically for a grade?

Tony shrugs, “Why do you think?” He’s nonchalant, at ease, a line of platitudes expressed over his face before he finally says, “We’re really shorthanded with all the dissenters. I wanna offer you a job.”

“Wait- what?”

Tony looks more than a little smug, “Let me tell you about a kid named Spider-Man.”

[moondancewrites]

S.O.S. Chapter 6

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Evelyn Burns (OC)

Warnings: Talk of death of a loved one, flirting, language

The previous 5 chapters and all of my other works can be found on my masterlist right HERE

For what seemed like an eternity, Evelyn stared at the ceiling trying to understand what the fuck happened.  Every time Ben snored or moved beside her she felt guilt surge her, so she decided it would be easier to think downstairs in the kitchen.  

She paced for God knows how long, going over what happened in her head.  How in holy hell did Lance Tucker manage to get her off with so little effort?  In a fantasy, no less!  And how did she let herself fantasize about him?  She was having sex with Ben.  She loved Ben.  Ben made her feel good.  But Lance …  God, he made her feel …  

What was she saying?  She hated Lance.  Well, hate was a strong word … but she didn’t really like the guy.  He was a womanizing jerk with the biggest ego she’d ever seen.  And boy, did he love riling her up.  But earlier that night, he riled her up in a different way.  And he was so…. Soooo…

“Stop it,” she scolded, pulling open the fridge door.  She fully intended to get some milk out to warm up in an attempt to make her sleepy.  Instead, she grabbed a bottle of wine, opened it, and poured herself a glass as if she were sleepwalking and completely unaware of her actions.  She sat down on a bar stool and sipped her wine, trying to slow her racing mind.  

“Auntie?” Hannah came into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Hannah!”  Evelyn thought to hide the wine glass, but it was too late.  “What are you doing up?  It’s …” Evelyn looked at the clock.  It was nearly midnight.  “You should be in bed.”

“Bad dream,” Hannah said, coming to sit on the stool beside her.  “You okay?  I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

“What?  Oh, no.  I’m fine.”  She took a sip of her wine and Hannah gave her a look.  “Bad dream, too.  What was yours about?”

“My parents.”

“Oh.”  Well, that put things into perspective.  Why was she worried about a stupid fantasy when someone she loved was in pain?  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was Christmas morning and I was in my old house and I went down the stairs.”  She paused and Evelyn realized she was holding back tears.

“Hannah.”  Evelyn got off her stool and wrapped her arms around her niece, pulling her into her chest and rubbing her back as she cried.

“They weren’t there.  Nothing was there.  And … I-I ...I was alone.  And I …” She burst into tears and Evelyn held her tighter, stroking her hair.  “I don’t want … To do … Christmas without them,” Hannah sobbed.  “It’s too hard, auntie.  It’s too hard.”

“I know, sweetheart.”  She kissed her hair.  “I know it’s hard.  But you know they want you to be happy.  They want you to go on, right?”  Hannah nodded, her head still buried in Evelyn’s shoulder.  “They want you to celebrate life and all that comes with it.  I know your mom loved Christmas and that it’s hard doing it without her.  It’s hard for me, too.  But when she looks down on us, she doesn’t want to see us crying, does she?”

“N-no.”

“She wants to see us smiling.  And laughing.  Your father, too.  They want you to be happy, Hannah.  And you’re doing so well.”  She pulled back, looking down at Hannah’s tear-stained face.  “You amaze me.  You know that?”  Hannah shook her head.  “The fact that you were able to move across the country and start at a new school and a new gym and somehow fit in effortlessly amazes me.  You’re so strong.  And so good.  And so talented.  You’re honestly my hero.”

“That’s what coach Tucker says, too,” Hannah sniffed.  For once, Evelyn agreed with Lance.

“Well … he’s right.  You are a phenomenal young lady.” Evelyn put her hands on Hannah’s shoulders.  “I know this first Christmas is going to be tough.  It will always be hard.  But I think your parents would want you to celebrate.  Don’t you?”  Hannah nodded.  “Plus, I got you something really cool.”

“You did?” Hannah blinked at her and Evelyn nodded.  “What?”

“You’ll have to wait until Christmas morning to find out,” she said with a smile.

“Fine,” she groaned.

“Think you can go back to sleep?” Evelyn asked.  Hannah shook her head.  “Want to watch some late-night infomercials and laugh at the salespeople?” Hannah nodded and Evelyn giggled.  “Okay, then.”

Christmas went better than expected.  Hannah was, understandably, somber at first.  But both Evelyn and Ben did their best to make it a special day for her.  Yes, even Ben went out of his way to be festive, going as far as wearing an ugly Christmas sweater while the three of them drank cocoa and watched old Christmas movies.  At the end of the day, Hannah had a smile on her face and that was all Evelyn could have asked for.

A week later was Jeanie’s annual New Years Eve party.  Evelyn didn’t care much for the holiday, especially after last year.  They were at a big party in Orlando for her work and Ben was going to meet her there after his plane landed.  She got all dressed up and even got her hair and make-up professionally done.  But then midnight rolled around and she was sitting alone on the terrace with a half-drunk bottle of champagne and tear-stained cheeks.  Ben apologized profusely, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth.  She feared the same might happen this year, since he would be flying in from Shanghai that day.  But even if he didn’t make it, Evelyn was determined to have fun because this year, Hannah would be there with her.  

Jeanie’s party was always a big family affair.  Everyone from the gym would be there, including Lance.  That part did make Evelyn a tad weary.  Thankfully, he hadn’t managed to creep into her lurid thoughts since that night, probably partially due to the fact that she had avoided him like the plague.  She dropped Hannah off for her practice and then went to run “errands” before picking her up again.  She did not set foot in the gym once that week.  

“What do you think of this one?” Hannah asked, showing her aunt the 3rd dress she’d tried on.  She twirled and Evelyn smiled and gave her a thumbs up.

“That’s the one.  It’s so cute and sparkly.  I wish I could get away with wearing sparkles like that.”

“You can, auntie.  It’s New Years Eve!  Everyone’s dressed like a disco ball.”

“Unfortunately, I do not own any disco-ball ensembles.  I think I’ll just go with …” She fingered through the dresses hanging in her closet.  “This one?”

“Black?  Again?  C’mon, aunt Evelyn.  Throw in some color.”

“What would you suggest then?” Evelyn asked, throwing her hands on her hips and giving her a face.  Hannah just laughed.

“This one!”  She pulled out a dress that Evelyn had honestly forgotten about.  It was cherry red with thin straps and a sweetheart neck.  The skirt flared a bit and it came just above her knee.  “It’s festive and if you put some red lipstick on, your eyes will really pop!”

“I dunno …”

“You’ll make me really happy if you wear it,” Hannah sang, swaying from side to side holding the dress up.  Evelyn snatched the dress.

“Fine.  You win.”

“Yes!” Hannah pumped her fist.

After the valet left with Evelyn’s car - yes, Jeanie had a valet at her party - she and Hannah stood in front of the house, staring at it.  “I will never get over the size of this house,” Evelyn said.  Evelyn wasn’t hurting for money, but she didn’t flaunt it either.  Jeanie … she liked to flaunt.  But she did it beautifully.  It was a gorgeous house and the Christmas lights were spectacular.  As they approached, they heard music and laughter.  And Evelyn was sure she heard Lance’s laugh.  She cursed the fact that she could pick it out in a crowd of people.  

“You okay?” Hannah asked.  Evelyn nodded.  “Let’s go.  I’m sure Ben will be here soon.”

“Yeah.  Maybe.”  Last time she heard from him he had just landed in New York and his flight to St. Pete was delayed.  If he left soon, he might make it just in time for the clock to strike midnight.

“Hannah!  Evelyn!  Don’t you look gorgeous!”  Jeanie greeted them with open arms and when Hannah looked over at Evelyn, they both smiled because Jeanie was wearing a dress even more shiny than Hannah’s.  “Come in.  Come in!  The bar is over to the left.  Of course, we have some great non-alcoholic drinks for the kids.  Have you ever had a Shirley Temple, Hannah?”

“Oh, yeah.  They’re delish.”  

“Delish,” Jeanie repeated, laughing like someone tickled her.  “You’re too much.  The buffet is over in the grand dining room down the hall.  And there’s a dance floor set up out on the lawn.  If you need anything, track down someone with a bow-tie!”

“Alright, then,” Evelyn said as soon as Jeanie went to greet the next wave of guests.  “Shirley Temple?”

“Shirley Temple.”

It didn’t take long for Evelyn to find Lance.  Not that she was looking.  He just kinda stuck out.  He was wearing a navy blue suit that had a little bit of a shine to it with a white dress shirt and no tie. The first few buttons of his shirt were left open, exposes his tanned skin.  He looked … It didn’t matter how he looked.  A new waify blonde was attached to him.  Literally.  She looked like she was glued to his side.  It was kind of gross the way she was hanging off of him.

“Is it okay if I go downstairs with the rest of the kids?  They’re playing spin …” Hannah stopped mid-sentence; her cheeks turned bright red.

“The bottle?” Evelyn finished.

“What?  What’s that?” Hannah asked with feigned curiosity, cocking her head to the side.

“Go on,” Evelyn laughed.  “But if they start playing 7 minutes in heaven you come right back up here, missy.  And don’t kiss anyone you don’t want to kiss.”  

“Who’s kissing who?” The hairs on the back of Evelyn’s neck spiked up at the sound of his voice.  Damnit.  Slowly, she turned around to find Lance and his date.

“Hannah.  She’s just going down to the basement with the other kids.”

“Are there boys down there?”  Suddenly, Lance’s cheeky smile disappeared.  He looked like a concerned dad.  It was not a look she thought she’d ever see on Lance Tucker.

“I suppose so,” Evelyn said with a shrug.

“And you let her go down there?” Lance asked in a harsh tone.

“She’s my niece, Lance.  And she’s just having a little fun.  It’s harmless.”

“Sure.  That’s how it starts. But boys that age … Maybe I should go down there.”

“Let the kids play, Lancy,” the waif cooed, running her fingers across the exposed bit of his chest.  “That way you can play with me.”  Evelyn couldn’t help rolling her eyes and Lance definitely noticed.  He averted her gaze and she couldn’t tell if it was because he was annoyed or embarrassed.  He stepped back from his date and she pouted.

“I just don’t want her to get mixed up with a boy so close to the competition next week.”

“Ah, I see.”  Evelyn nodded thoughtfully before taking a sip of her drink.  “So, you’re just worried she’ll lose focus and it’ll mess up a win for you.”

“No.  No, that’s not what I …” He stepped closer to her.

“Uh huh,” Evelyn nodded, turning away from him.  “Enjoy the party, Lance.”

“Wait, Evelyn …” she heard him call, but she just kept walking.

The hours passed and still no Ben.  Hannah was having fun with the other teens.  They’d moved to the dance floor around 11 and she looked like she was having a blast.  Evelyn?  Not so much.  She felt like she was experiencing deja vu, standing on the deck overlooking the west lawn watching the party from a distance.  There were a few other people enjoying the lovely night out on the deck, but she still felt so alone.

“The elusive Evelyn,” Lance said from behind her.  She stiffened.  She was so not in the mood for this.  She hoped that maybe if she stayed perfectly still and didn’t respond that he’d just go away.  She should have known that was hopeless.  “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”  He came to stand beside her, leaning against the railing with his body facing hers.  She didn’t look at him.  

“Here I am,” she said, shrugging.  “And don’t worry, Hannah’s perfectly fine.  She’s out there dancing.”

“I know.  I talked to her a few minutes ago.  She’s having fun.”

“Like a normal teenager.  So weird, right?” Evelyn quipped, finally glancing over at her.  Lance glared at her.  “You know, you’ll go blind if you keep glaring at me like that.”

“Throwing my line back at me.”  He raised his glass to her.  “Nice.”

“Did you lose your date?” Evelyn asked, taking a sip of her drink.  It was her second one, and she was starting to feel the effects of the vodka.  It helped with the whole missing your fiance on New Years Eve thing.  

“Nope.”  He leaned into Evelyn, pointing out onto the dance floor.  There she was, dancing with another guy.  “There she is.”

“Shouldn’t you be out there?” Evelyn asked.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” he shrugged.

“Well, I know that much,” Evelyn replied.  Lance gave her a look.  “I caught you dancing last week, remember?  If you can call it that.”

“Hey!  I may not be much of a dancer, but I have moves other places.”  Evelyn’s eyes unwillingly widened.  “Like on the uneven bars,” he said with a cheeky grin.  “Oh, you thought I meant …”

“I didn’t think anything,” she said, standing up and pushing herself off the railing.  “I’m going to go get another drink.”

“Let me.  What’re you drinking?”

“No, it’s fine, I got it,” she said.  Lance shook his head, grabbing her drink from her hand.  As he did, his fingers brushed against her skin and she was reminded of where else those fingers had been - in reality and in fantasy.  She hoped the night hid her blushing cheeks.  

“What’re you drinking?” he repeated.

“Vodka.  Vodka tonic,” she replied.

“Alright, then,” he said with an amused look.  “I’ll be right back.”

“Great.  I’ll be here,” she said, throwing her arms up.  He chuckled at her, shaking his head.  Moments later, he returned with two drinks.  

“So, Evelyn … I have this feeling …”

“Huh?”  Suddenly, Evelyn felt nerves tickle in her belly.  He wasn’t smiling and that made her even more nervous.  Serious Lance was unsettling.  He rarely came out.  

“Did I do something to piss you off?”  Evelyn stared at him and a little smile played at the corners of his mouth.  “I mean, more than usual?”

“What?  No.  Why would you say that?”  She turned to look out onto the dance floor again.  

“Well, you haven’t been at a single practice this week.”

“I’ve been busy.  With work.”

“Aren’t you off work this week?” he asked, leaning in a bit.  God, he smelled good.  She didn’t want to, but her eyes moved over to him.  That little smile was gone again.  “Did I do something?”

“No.”  Not you, she thought.  Just the stupid, ridiculously sexy fantasy version of you that made me feel like I’ve been drowning in guilt the last week.

“You sure?”  He was so close now that she could feel his breath on her.  Or maybe that was the breeze.  She pulled back slightly, nodding.

“I’ve just been busy.  The holidays, ya know.”

“Alright, then,” he said, his nose scrunching up a bit as he said it.  “And how’s the knee?”

“It’s fine,” she replied.  It was better, actually.

“You’ve been doing the exercises and getting it massaged?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmmm.  Ben’s very good at the massage part.”

“Is he?” Lance chuckled.

“What?” Evelyn couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Just hard to imagine someone so stiff giving a good massage,” Lance said with a shrug.  “You gotta have the right touch.”  Lance moved his hand in the air like he was massaging her thigh.  Evelyn squeezed her thighs together to quell the unwanted ache that suddenly manifested in between her legs.  “Where is Ben, anyway?  I mean, if my fiance was at a party alone looking the way you look …” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing at her.  She felt like he was looking at her naked or something.  She didn’t like it, she told herself.  Nope.  She didn’t like it at all.  

“He’s on his way,” she blurted out.  “He should be here right before midnight.”

“You mean in ten minutes?” Lance asked.  Evelyn’s eyes widened and she grabbed Lance’s arm, pushing up his sleeve to look at his watch.

“Shit … I didn’t realize it was so late.  I should go get Hannah.”

“Let her have fun,” he said with a wave.

“You’ve changed your tune,” she said, giving him a look.

“I mean, we can both see her.  She’s just dancing.  That’s quite different than being in a basement with a bunch of teenage boys and a spinning bottle.  I still can’t believe you let her go down there.”

“Tell me, Lance.  What other critiques do you have on my parenting skills?”  She found herself moving closer to him.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he said softly.  “I just worry about her.  She’s like my …”

“Kid?” she asked.  Lance shrugged.  Evelyn didn’t know quite what to say to that.  She couldn’t decide if it pissed her off or warmed her heart.  So, she decided to change the topic.  “Shouldn’t you go find your date so you can kiss her at midnight?”

“Eh,” Lance said with a shrug.  “I’m kind of over it.  She’s a bit clingy.”

“You think?” Evelyn laughed.

“What about Ben?  Does he know where to find you?”

“I texted him and told him where I was.”  She looked down at her phone.  Nothing.  And it was five minutes to midnight.  She sighed.  “Deja vu,” she mumbled to herself.

“Hmm?” Lance hummed, scooting closer so their elbows touched.

“Nothing,” she sighed, turning to face him.  He turned into her.

“You said deja vu.  Were you at this party last year?  I feel like I would have remembered you …”

“No,” she laughed.  “I didn’t know any of these people last year.  Last year, Ben and I were supposed to go to a big party in Orlando.  Well, I went and he missed it.  His flight got delayed and he didn’t get in until 3 am.  So, it kinda feels like-”

“Deja vu,” Lance said, giving her a soft smile.

“I was really hoping to get a New Years Eve kiss this year,” she found herself saying.  “Which is silly, really.  Because I hate this holiday.  It’s so stupid.  Just another excuse to get drunk.”

“Which you are,” he said with a little laugh.

“I am not!  I’m tipsy, at worst,” she said.  When she tried to stand up tall, she stumbled and Lance had to steady her with his hand on her waist.

“Okay, tipsy.  Maybe we should cut you off, huh?”  He grabbed her drink and put it on the ledge.

“You’re not my coach, you know.”

“True, but I can still worry.”

“About me?”  When Lance shrugged she threw her head back and laughed, causing her to lose her balance again.  Lance grabbed her by the hips this time.  With both hands.

“Whoa there,” he said with a little chuckle.  He was holding her so close.  Too close.  She pulled back.

“Okay, maybe no more vodka.”

“Good call.”

“What time is it?” she mumbled, pulling Lance’s arm off of her and looking at his watch again, even though she had her phone in her little bag.  “Two minutes.”

“You know, if you really want a kiss, I could …”

“What?” Evelyn’s eyes widened in shock.  “Lance, no.  That is not-”

“Just on the cheek,” he blurted out.  He smiled and his nose did that little scrunched up thing again.  “Just so you have at least a kiss, even if it’s not the one you really want.”

“I don’t need a …” She looked up at him and he smiled, but it wasn’t his Lance Tucker smile.  It was softer.  Kind. “I don’t need a kiss.  And even if I did, you would not be the one-”

“Alright, alright” he said, putting his hands up in defense.  “I just thought I’d offer.  You know, the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“I wouldn’t say kissing someone else’s fiance was gentlemanly,” Evelyn said, patting his chest.  Lance looked down at her hand that remained over his peck for probably a little too long.

“20! 19! 18!”

“Countdown time,” Lance said.  Her hand was still on his chest.  She cleared her throat, stepping back and staring down at her shoes.

“Lance!  There you are!”  His date ran up to him, throwing her arms around him.  “I thought I was going to miss out on my New Years Eve, kiss.”

“So did I,” Lance said, glancing over at Evelyn as he said it.

“10!  9!  8!”

“Evelyn!”  Ben appeared in the doorway.  He looked completely exhausted.  His hair was all a mess and his tie was loose around his neck.  He had bags under his eyes.  But he was there.  “I made it!”

“You did!”  She held her arms out to him and he ran to her, picking her up and spinning her.  “Oh, whoa.  No spinning,” she said, blinking up at him.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked.  He looked disappointed.

“2! 1!  Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year,” Evelyn said to him, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Happy New Year, Lancy!” Lance’s date exclaimed, effectively ruining Evelyn’s moment with Ben.  When she pulled back from the kiss, she caught a glance of Lance over Ben’s shoulder.  He was looking at her, too.  The expression on his face baffled Evelyn.  She was expecting a cocky smile.  A smirk.  A wink.  But he looked apologetic.  What was he sorry for?  His annoying date?  The fact that he didn’t get to kiss her instead?  No.  That was silly.  Why would he be sorry about that?  And why would that even cross Evelyn’s mind?  Great… now she was thinking about kissing him.  Of his lips brushing against her cheek.  She wondered how soft his lips were.  She wondered how they would feel against hers.  They looked soft.  And his date sure seemed to enjoy the kiss he gave her.  She kept kissing his neck, like she couldn’t get enough of him.

“You alright, darling?” Ben cooed, giving her another kiss and pulling her out of her ridiculous daze.  Evelyn saw Lance turn away and put his arm around his date, leaving her alone with her fiance.

“What?  Oh.  Yeah.  I’m fine,” she said, smiling widely.

“You’re cheeks are flushed.  Too much to drink, I think, hmm?” He patted her arm.

“Yeah.  Must have been that,” she said.  That’s why she was thinking about kissing Lance - she was drunk.  That was the only logical reason.

“Let’s get Hannah and get you home, hmm?”

“Home.  Yes.  Good.”

tag list: @mindingmyownbusiness @badassbaker @vechkinfan @seb-smut @221bshrlocked @angryschnauzer @moonbeambucky @papi-chulo-bucky @papi-chulo-seb 

[lonelypond]

Casual Lunacy, Ch. 30

Love Live, NicoMaki, 2.8K, 30/?

Neruda Whispers At Dawn, Werwolves Bark At Morning

Dawn. Maki heard more noises as people and animals began to interact with the day. There was a weight on her right flank; Nico had fallen asleep using her as a pillow. She was almost afraid to shift. Waking Nico rudely or causing her to end up on the floor were not acceptable options. This sort of situation was more difficult with paws. Transforming would most likely jar Nico so Maki slowly slowly slid her hindquarters out from under Nico, being careful to shift Nico’s weight to the couch. Then Maki concentrated, triggering a transformation, enjoying the brief moment when full human intellect and wolf senses coexisted and she could absorb, and etch into her memory, every single amazing breath and hair and reaction of the lovely woman lying in front of her, so tiny and yet so much of the world. Maki ran a tender hand through the satiny sable trailing off the couch, as Nico muttered in her sleep.

Maki stood, picking up Nico in her arms, once again surprised by the lightness. Nico was truly tiny and yet, when awake and animated, she had no limits, filling every room, every moment, every thought Maki had. Nico rubbed a cheek with one hand and Maki froze, waiting to see if those ruby eyes would open, glowing, if the matching lips would offer a tender tingling, tariff. Neruda, his Matilde had been tiny too, and yet...Maki hummed as she whispered a few lines to the oblivious Nico, walking them both to back to Nico’s bedroom:

roselet, it seems as though you would fit in one of my hands, as though I’ll clasp you like this and carry you to my mouth but suddenly my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips you have grown

Too tempting, Maki realized as she settled Nico into the bed and knelt next to her. Just a simple, single kiss:

I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth

Nico’s eyes half opened at the gentle pressure, “Pretty girl?”

Maki slid into bed next to her, cuddling Nico in her arms, enjoying the way the smaller woman felt against her bare skin, “Shhh...go back to sleep.”

“Classes…” Nico mumbled, as she rubbed against Maki’s chin.

“Not for hours, yet. I’ll wake you up.” Maki yawned. If Nico hadn’t set the alarm, she was sure Umi and company would make enough noise to serve the same function.

“O..okay,” Nico’s head on her shoulder, perfect words passing perfect lips, “Love you.”

Maki almost BOUNDED. The Nico-ness of this moment, musk and magic and vanilla and peach and the lavender Nico kept in her pillow, the way the sheets now smelled as much of Maki as Nico, blended by sweat and intimacy, the way Nico’s voice sleepily melted around those words, it was a jolt, heart leaping, feelings wanting to throw themselves into a howl, body wanting to crash into Nico, to stroke through sensuality, dash into a duet. But a glance down, seeing Nico so peaceful, so tiny, quieted that impulse, stilled that surge. But the music lingered, heart slowing to its rhythm, Maki humming the tune that became clearer every day, every day easier to weave through Neruda’s words. Tomorrow night, she’d play it for Nico.

And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky and a hymn fills the world Only you and I, only you and I, my love, listen to it.

“NICO NICO NI! NICO NICO NI!” followed by barking. Nico sat up. Her phone was vibrating on her nightstand and her girlfriend was falling forward in the bed, mid transformation, landing on all four paws as Nico paled, her eyes not quite ready for half girl, half wolf geometries before caffeine. Maki snarled, tensed to leap at Nico’s phone as Nico grabbed for it, quickly typing the passcode, who was calling at 7 a.m. “What the hell?”

“Nico?” Eli. Sounding confused. She could probably hear Maki growling and barking on the other side of Nico’s head as Nico slid an arm around the furry shoulders.

“Hang on a sec, Eli.” Nico let the phone drop and hugged Maki tightly, “Calm down, pretty girl. Nico’s phone is friendly. It’s Eli. Eli is friendly.” Nico let her head rest on Maki, who was vibrating. Probably scared. Nico started humming “You’d Be So Easy To Love” and the wolf quieted, snuffling everywhere she could reach on Nico. Then Nico’s bedroom door banged open and Umi stood there, bo staff in hand, hair standing out from the left side of her head, striped pajama shirt untucked and Maki pulled out of Nico’s grasp, turning to growl at the intruder.

“Nico? Maki? What’s wrong?” Umi’s eyes searched the room for threats.

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Nico muttered, crawling across the sheets so she was parallel with Maki, nudging the wolf with her shoulder. “I’m all right, Umi. Maki got startled by my phone and changed.’ Maki sat back, but still sniffed suspiciously at the bedroom intruder. Nico leaned against her, suddenly exhausted.

Honoka, in a t-shirt, ran in after Umi, stopping behind her, “What happened? Is there a burglar?” Kotori followed, wearing Umi’s bathrobe and her hair in a towel.

“This is what happened to Nico’s dress, isn’t it?” Nico muttered, “You startled Maki.”

“No.” Umi lowered the staff, a slight blush on her cheek, “What happened was Honoka,” Umi glared at her girlfriend, “wanted Maki to play when Maki changed into wolf form so when Maki refused, she grabbed something of yours and Maki tried to ‘save’ it.”

Maki huffed in agreement, Kotori giggled, Nico sighed. And then there was the other party.

“Nico?” Eli’s voice could be heard.

“No one move.” Nico swiveled, grabbing her phone, “I will call you back in 5 minutes, Eli.” Nico swiveled her head to star down the crowd surrounding her bed, “Now, everyone else needs to leave.”

Maki whined.

“No, not you, Maki.” Nico put the phone down, shook her head, once again fighting the laugh or cry feeling that was happening so often these days. Hands on the bed, take a big, grounding breath, bounce up, face down the world and all the maddening, lovely, amazing people who want to ‘save’ her. Kotori was still giggling, Honoka nearly asleep again on her shoulder. Umi had taken two careful steps into the bedroom and was crouched, offering a hand in peace to Maki, who, after a couple of skittish starts, sniffed it. Nico crossed her arms over her chest, holding back a smile, how could you not love them. Love them AND ban them from any room with breakables.

Maki glanced back over her shoulder and winked. Happiness bubbled up and Nico jumped on the werewolf’s back, embracing her. Umi grinned and stood up, ruffling behind Maki’s ear, “I’ll go make us all breakfast.” She slipped Honoka’s arm over her shoulder, “Come on, Honoka. You can sleep on the couch until it’s ready.”

“I’ll make toast.” Kotori took a step toward Maki, hand sneaking out, but Nico rumbled threateningly and Kotori rushed after Umi instead.

“See, Nico can save you too, pretty girl.” Nico was enjoying lying across Maki’s back, warm, soft, a nice buzz from being close to the cute girl. But she had to call Eli back. Who called at this hour? And why? Had something happened to Nozomi? Nico slid off Maki, “Sorry, Maki. Need to check and see what Eli wanted.”

Maki whined. Nico snuffled her nose through Maki’s fur, “Change back and Nico will make Umi blush if she walks in on us again.”

Tsubasa sat at her desk top, updating the interactive werewolf map she’d developed with recent suspected sightings. She expected to have more of them with the recent full moon, but the only incident seemed to be rumors of a large dog running amuck in costumes. Yazawa had been involved and it sounded like the the same dog that had snapped at Tsubasa on the Lakefill. But nothing was being reported about the actual werewolf Tsubasa was trying to find. Had the full moon caused it to hunt off campus, where it could kill smaller animals? Or had someone kept it locked up? Did the moon control changes? Some of the sightings had occurred during daytime hours. Tsubasa hit enter, watching the grid of sightings, realizing that this was more complicated than she had originally thought.

Hanayo opened the door, five minutes early, as always. Her first task every morning was to check the overnight readings from the theatre.

“Good morning.” Hanayo booted up her computer but didn’t respond to Tsubasa’s greeting so Tsubasa leaned forward, “You live on the north end of campus, right?”

“Y...yes,” Hanayo stuttered, surprised.

“Have you seen this dog?” Tsubasa rolled her chair to the Hanayo's side, placing her phone on the desk between them, “A lot of people spotted it Fall Quarter, said it seemed friendly.”

Hanayo glanced down at the phone, held back a twitch at the sight of Rin's wolf form, then shook her head.

“Let me know if you do.”

Hanayo nodded and started typing.

“Not talkative this morning, Hanayo?” Tsubasa retrieved her phone, puzzled at her assistant’s unusual recalcitrance.

Hanayo finally looked up, reserved smile, a bit shy. “Have to meet my Chemistry TA so this morning’s more rushed for me than usual.” She ducked her head, “Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Tsubasa went back to her map. “We didn’t hire you to talk. Just keep the numbers straight.” Tsubasa hit escape and opened the window with the Campus Wall of Weird. “And let me know if you spot any stray dogs on the Lakefill.”

“Okay.” Hanayo relaxed as she sorted the numbers into columns, “I can do that.”

“Good.” Tsubasa started typing into the search.

Nico put down her phone, Maki observing from the bed, back in her flannel shirt. Nico seemed frustrated. From what Maki could tell when she returned from the bathroom, Eli wanted to talk to Nico and that made Nico...angry?

“Nico?” Maki ran her fingers through her hair, human nose confused by the nuances of Nico’s reaction.

“Is it too much for Nico to ask to just get through one rehearsal without weirdness or a crisis or…” Nico yanked her pillow, twisting it, then slamming her face into its fluffiness. Maki hesitated, unsure of what to do. Then Nico screamed. Maki skittered back a little, proximity and surprise affecting her. She bit into her lip, discouraged by her own reactions that morning. Too much startle. Nico’s ringtone shouldn’t nearly trigger a transformation, even from the deepest of sleep comas. That was dangerous. Could you practice being surprised?

Maki touched Nico, fingers brushing rumpled sable hair back into order, “What did Eli want?”

Nico looked up, dark circles under her eyes, “Nozomi found an extra light and she thinks Erena and Tsubasa are up to something that sounds really complicated and Eli doesn't completely understand. Hanayo says it’s going to happen on opening night. Eli wants us to take a look around tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Maki nodded, thinking that sounded practical. Nico and Eli were already planning to be at the theatre all day. “That makes sense.”

Nico pounded the pillow into her lap, eyes fierce as she turned to Maki, “No, it does not make sense.” A sigh, then Nico’s hand under Maki’s chin, “Listen to Nico. Nico is busy. Nico is one of the leads. Nico has a lot to do. Costumes, blocking, not missing lines or entrances. Nico has no time for playing Daphne to Eli's Fred. Remember Noises Off, the third act when NO ONE came on stage.”

Maki, feeling a bit embarrassed, had to shake her head no. That night, her first in Nico’s apartment, had mainly been spent memorizing everything Nico.

“Next time, we watch it, there’ll be a quiz.” Nico pinched Maki's cheeks. “Nico doesn’t want that to happen to her, yesterday’s rehearsal was bad enough. The director’s starting to think I’m an amateur.”

Maki didn’t believe that, but was sure Nico would have some snappy rebuttal if she tried to disagree, so maybe change the subject? Worth a try.

“My parents think…”

Her ringtone went off. Nico collapsed dramatically across Maki’s lap as the werewolf answered her phone, “Hey.”

Rin. “Kayochin wants to talk to Nico. SOON. Where are you, Maki?”

“Nico’s.” Maki kept playing with Nico’s hair, as Nico frowned at the ceiling, muttering lines from Fangs under her breath. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

“Rin, wait!” Call ended, then an immediate ring.

“Where does Nico live?”

“Orrington Ave.”

“Nine minutes.”

Maki leaned over to kiss Nico, “Rin’s coming over. In nine minutes.”

Nico pulled the werewolf down, rolling to the side so they were nose to nose, “Okay.” Then one hand slipped through Maki’s hair, the other to her waist and Maki hoped Rin dressed warmly because she might have to wait at the door.

Maki had let Rin in. Her ginger haired friend happily bounced through introductions to Umi, Kotori and Honoka, who had just finished eating breakfast and disappeared to dress quickly as they were running late for their 9 a.m. classes. Rin eagerly grabbed a plate and piled toast and eggs on it when invited so by the time Nico came out of the shower, and poured herself a mug of coffee, Rin was elbow deep in second breakfast, chewing happily.

“Hi, Rin. How’s Hanayo?” Nico took the heaped plate Umi had left for her out of the oven. Maki was impressed by the little things Umi and Nico did to help each other, not to mention how willing Umi was to step up in the face of the unknown in the form of Nico’s werewolf girlfriend.

Maki nudged Rin with her shoulder, being a good friend made for solid friendships and she’d been spending so much time with Nico, she’d been neglecting Rin.

“Too busy with work.” Rin scowled. “We think we should all go out for dinner sometime. Plus,” Another scowl, “Kayochin wants to talk about ‘those people.’” Rin growled, Nico had to bite back a laugh because it was just too adorable, Rin’s cute face, scrunched up in disapproval. Maki bumped Nico with her knee, drawing her girlfriend’s attention back and then Nico did chuckle, ruffling Maki’s hair.

“Nico thinks you’re the cutest, pretty girl.” Nico put a muffin on Rin’s plate. “And you have matching friends.”

“Kayochin’s the cutest.” Rin stated matter of factly, “But she never smiles anymore. She smells sad.” Rin dropped her head, not entranced by the muffin.

Maki could tell how much this situation was dragging on Rin’s natural buoyancy. And she wanted to help, but she and Nico already had… “Why don’t we have dinner together tonight? My parents are already expecting company.” Maki was getting excited. She could help Rin and Hanayo, Nico wanted to go out with them anyway and this way, her parents wouldn’t have much of a chance to interrogate Nico or mention schoolwork. Smart, efficient planning not really just an avoidance tactic.

Nico watched, bemused, as all of that flashed across her girlfriend’s face, lavender eyes proud as Maki nodded to herself, jaw set. Nico took her hand, “Really not eager for one on one time with your parents AND your girlfriend, huh, Maki.”

Maki whined, but although she was trying to feel guilty about her impulse, she really couldn’t. She tapped Rin's shoulder to make sure she was paying attention. “You have to leave early though, Rin. I have something to show Nico.” Maki boldly grabbed the muffin off Rin’s plate, still hungry. More importantly, Nico made the muffins for her.

“Something to show Nico?” Nico was curious, Maki hadn’t said anything to her.

Maki chewed loudly, ignoring Nico.

Rin leaned forward, head tilted.“Okay, I’ll call Kayochin. Sounds like fun.”

Maki smiled, mouth exclusively full of Nico baked goodness, and nodded, thumbs up. Nico stood, starting to rinse dishes at the sink. “Eight o’clock.”

“Nico might be a little late.” Nico tied the apron around her waist, “I have to get there from work. And you have to get to class.”

Maki glanced at the wall clock as Honoka came tearing out of that bedroom. 8:55.

“See you, Nico!” Honoka waved.

Kotori followed, “Slow down, sweetie.”

Umi detoured to the kitchen, “Nice to meet you, Rin. Have a good tech, Nico. You’re staying at Maki’s tonight, I believe?”

“Yes. Oh right, I have to pack a bag.” Nico dried off her hands on the apron, “I’ll see you Sunday, Umi.”

Umi buttoned her coat. “Take care of yourself, Maki.”

Maki saluted Umi, then stretched out an arm to pull Nico in, “Can I help?”

Nico kissed Maki on the nose, “No, pretty girl, Nico is afraid Rin will toss you the plates like a Frisbee on the Lakefill.”

“Ooh, fun.” Rin tried out that grip on hers. Nico rescued the breakable.

“I could pack for you.” Maki whispered in Nico’s ear as she nipped at it.

“You forget to put in underwear so no, thanks.” Nico danced away from Maki’s reach.

“Me too.” Rin announced; Nico giggled; Maki blushed. Sexy morning mood torpedoed, best friend-girlfriend amity progressing.

A/N: Howdy!Neruda translation credit goes to Donald D. Walsh. There's a lovely, pink, pocket sized edition titled Love Poems that the two I quote (La Reina and En Ti La Tierra) in this chapter are part of.Nearly back on track with this one. 

For those of you waiting for the next installment in this year's Christmas extravaganza, beginning of next week is likely. I overreached a little scheduling wise, but I am writing diligently.

Anybody a Winter Olympics fan? I tend to get very interested in curling and spend way too many hours considering how sliding granite across ice smells/sounds/feels. And watching snowboarding. I'm very glad they're finally including Women's Ski Jumping. Take care. Stay warm/cool/safe/well.

[ginnyweatherby]

No Matter What (Part 3)

Gaston’s feeling a little insecure.  Leave it to Lefou to figure out why.

(Chapters 1, 2, 4, 5, 6)

May

Gaston walked into his dorm, desperate for a nap, to find someone already taking one.  “You know, she sleeps a lot,” he observed, eyeing Madeline snoozing on Lefou’s bed.

“She has an excuse, what’s yours?”  Lefou deadpanned, as Gaston fell into his own bed.

“My excuse is I’ve been awake since four thirty this morning to train,” he stifled a yawn behind his hand, “we’ve got a big game coming up, and my coach has been on my case about slacking off on my training,”

Lefou was sitting at the foot of his bed, his laptop open.

“Doesn’t she have her own room?”  Gaston asked, fluffing his pillow a bit.

“She does,”  Lefou said, “but we were hanging out, and she just kind of... passed out,”

Gaston stripped off his shirt and pulled the blankets over his waist.

“Jacqueline has called three times this week,”  Lefou said, just as Gaston began to drift off.

“Hmm?” Gaston murmured, his face smashed in the pillow.

“My sister,”

“I know who Jacqueline is, Lefou,”

“Well, she keeps calling,”  Lefou said, “apparently she can’t get over the fact she’s going to be an aunt and keeps telling me about cute baby things she’s seen,”

“Are they the same baby things you keep showing me?”  Gaston asked, rolling over so he was facing Lefou, his eyes half-closed.  He could just make out Lefou looking down at his phone.

“No,” Lefou said, testily, “they’re just clothes, mostly.  Shirts that proclaim he or she has the ‘Best Aunt Ever’ or something... although I’m sure Madeline’s sisters might disagree,”

“If the baby is only the size of a plum, I don’t think he’ll be wearing shirts any time soon,”  Gaston pointed out.

“... you think it’ll be a boy?”  Lefou asked, a little breathlessly.

“Oh, uh, I dunno?”  Gaston didn’t know why he had said ‘he’, it just sort of slipped out.

“What if it is?”  Lefou asked, quietly.  “A son?”

“Then you’ll... uh, have a son, I guess,”  Gaston said, feeling rather dumb, but that’s what happened when people talked to him when he was trying to sleep!

“A son,”  Lefou whispered, “I’ve never really thought about what that might mean... my own little boy...”

“It could be a girl, though,”  Gaston said, before Lefou got too attached to the idea, “I’m not even sure the baby has decided, yet,”

“Of course,”  Lefou said, with a small smile.  “A daughter would be wonderful, too... do you think he... or she... will look like me?”

Gaston rolled back over on the bed, facing the wall.  “There’s no denying your hair and eyes are dominant genes... although Madeline’s nose and chin might make an appearance,”

He heard Lefou let out a happy sigh.  “He... or she... sounds perfect,”

It was a Friday night, and Gaston was bored.  He was laying in bed, flipping through a magazine, but wasn’t paying much attention to what he was seeing.

“Why don’t we go out tonight?”  Gaston said, suddenly, pushing the magazine away from himself.

“I’m busy,”  Lefou said, typing furiously into his computer from his desk.  There were a few papers scattered around, that he would reference from time to time.

“Doing what?”

“Applying for jobs,”  Lefou answered, distractedly.

“You have a job,”

Lefou snorted, turning around in his chair, “I hardly want to be working in fast food when the baby comes.  I want to be a good role model, and I’ll need better wages to help support them,”

“Doesn’t Madeline work, too?”  Gaston asked.

“For the time being,”  Lefou said, “but her job is about as good as mine, and she’ll have to take time off to recover after the baby is born,”

“Are you planning on... supporting her?”  Gaston asked, carefully.  For people who claimed they weren’t together, they seemed to spend a lot of time acting like a married couple.

“Somewhat,” Lefou said.  “I don’t want to leave her to everything on her own... I got her in this situation, after all,”

“I mean... I get that it’s your baby or whatever,”  Gaston waved his hand in the air.

“Or whatever?”  Lefou quirked an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean,”  Gaston said, rolling his eyes, “it’s just... you’re a generous person, and I don’t want to see Madeline take advantage of you,”

“You mean like you do?”

“Exactly!” Gaston said, before realizing what he’d agreed to.  “Wait, no. I mean...”  Gaston didn’t really know what he meant, actually.  He just felt like he was spending less and less time with Lefou, and now that Madeline was in her second trimester, he knew things were getting more serious, and he was afraid for what that might mean.

“This isn’t about Madeline, is it?”  Lefou asked, seeing through Gaston, as he always did.

Gaston shrugged.

“It’s about change,”  Lefou said, confidently.  “It’s about the fact that I’m technically younger than you, changing careers, spending most of my time studying to stay on top of my classes, having a baby for pete’s sake, and you’re not sure what you’re having for dinner tonight,”  Lefou seemed to be able to voice the insecurities that Gaston himself was struggling to pinpoint.

Gaston opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.  Now, that was something he wasn’t used to at all.

“Well, it’s okay, neither do I,”  Lefou said, pulling a takeout menu from a desk drawer,  “but I was thinking pizza.  Okay by you?”

“As long as we can get mushrooms on it,”  Gaston said, perking up a bit.  It wasn’t as good as going out on a weekend, but pizza with his best friend didn’t sound too horrible.

“Who would I be to deny you of that?”  Lefou asked, putting his phone to his ear to order.

“Have you considered psychiatry as your next career?”  Gaston asked, pulling another magazine from the bedside table and opening it.

Lefou laughed.  “You know, it hadn’t occurred to me, but it sounds like a bit of a shift from my theater majo- hello, I’d like to order a pizza... extra cheese, yeah...”

Gaston yawned as he opened the door of his room.  Lefou was sitting up in bed, rubbing his tired eyes.  Who was knocking before eight ‘o’ clock on a Saturday morning?

“It’s happening,”  Madeline said once Gaston focused on her face.

“M sorry?”  He mumbled, as he opened the door wider to allow her to walk through.  Apparently she was a morning person.  Hopefully the baby inherited Lefou’s fondness for sleeping in, Gaston didn’t want to deal with morning-Lefou on a regular basis.

“It’s happening,”  Madeline repeated, flinging herself onto the bed next to Lefou.  Gaston knew she preferred to stay backstage, but he wondered if Madeline had ever taken center stage, she could be just as dramatic as their friend when she wanted to be.

“What’s happening?”  Lefou grabbed his eyeglasses from his nightstand, perching them on the end of his nose.

“I’m showing,”  Madeline said.

“Isn’t that normal?”  Gaston muttered, falling back into his own bed. This clearly wasn’t a discussion he needed to be included in.

“It is!”  Madeline said, excitedly.  “It means the baby is growing!  Look!”  Gaston rolled over to face the wall, but before he did he saw Madeline pulling her shirt taut against her middle, presumably for Lefou to see her protruding belly.

“That’s amazing,”  Lefou commented.

“I noticed it when I tried pulling a pair of pants on this morning and they weren’t quite fitting right,”  Madeline said, “I’ve never been so happy not to fit in my clothes,”

“How big are they now?”  Lefou asked.

“The size of a lemon,”  Madeline said, immediately, “I checked this morning,”

“I guess we’ll have to make a shopping trip this afternoon,”  Lefou said, “Gaston, you wanna come?”

“Shopping for girls’ clothes?”  Gaston mumbled, only half conscious, “I can think of better ways to spend my weekend,”

“We can look for stuff for you, too,”  Lefou said, “I know you said you needed more workout clothes,”

“... Lemme get dressed,”  Gaston said, pulling himself out of the bed for the second time that morning, “while I’m not a shy man, Madeline, I’m going to change, so while it doesn’t bother me...”

“Right,” Madeline said, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks, “I’ll wait outside,”

After Madeline scurried out of the room, Lefou shook his head.  “Do you always have to be gross?”

Gaston nodded, feeling a mischievous smirk cross his face.  “It’s what I do,”

June

Summer hit Villeneuve with a vengeance.  The day Gaston flipped his calendar to “June”, the weather seemed to take the hint.  The air was hot and sticky, and nothing felt sweeter than the relief of a good fan when entering a room.

Gaston loved it.  He thrived in summer, the lack of any real responsibility, being able to spend nearly every waking hour in the pool, and to get a nice tan.

Lefou had always spent a lot of time at Gaston’s house over the summer, and now Madeline joined them on occasion.  On a particularly scorching day, the trio were sitting outside Gaston’s house, him in a lawn chair, focusing on evening his tan, while his two friends waded in the pool.  Lefou wasn’t a big swimmer, but he borrowed one of the inflatable floaties that Gaston’s mother kept and was content.

After over an hour in the water, Lefou and Madeline made their way onto the grass, playing with Gaston’s dogs.

“This one knows something,”  Madeline laughed, as the smaller of the two dogs kept sniffing around her middle.

“She’s probably looking for treats,”  Gaston snorted.

“Animals have good senses, you know,”  Madeline said, scratching behind the dog’s ears.  “When I first came home, my cat kept sitting on my stomach and purring... it’s like she’s trying to protect me and the baby,”

“That’s so sweet,”  Lefou said, as the larger dog licked his face.

“I thought s-”  Madeline cut herself off with a gasp.

“What happened?”  Lefou’s eyes widened in concern, and Gaston sat up in his chair, lowering his sunglasses to look at her properly.

“I just... whoa,”  Madeline breathed the last word, “I think I just felt the baby move,”

“Seriously?” Lefou gently pushed the dog away from his face.  “What’d it feel like?”

“Kind of... weird,”  Madeline admitted, “like popping popcorn,”

“It’s pretty hot out,”  Gaston said, “have you eaten any popcorn kernels recently?”

“Gaston,” Lefou said, exasperated.

Madeline still had one hand on the dog’s curious head, but moved the other to her own belly.  “It was only for a second, but that was amazing,”

Lefou smiled, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, “At least we know everything is going well in there,”

Madeline tapped her fingers on her little bump.

Gaston leaned back in his chair, lowering his sunglasses over his eyes, and couldn’t help but smile a little at his friend’s happy grins.

July

According to Lefou, Madeline was at the “halfway” point of her pregnancy, and everyone was getting excited.  On one hand, time seemed to be crawling by, but on the other, it seemed to be flying.  It was hard for Gaston to believe that in a few more months, his friend would have a baby.

Madeline was getting bigger, and had complained about not being able to get comfortable, and was having trouble getting to sleep at night.

Lefou couldn’t be happier.  Well, not about Madeline’s discomfort, of course, but he was more than happy to stop by the convenience store to satiate her junk food cravings, and help out whenever he could.

Madeline and Lefou’s parents were beginning to accept the fact they were having a baby, and had even bought the baby a few new things.  Jacqueline was over the moon, and jabbered on about the baby almost constantly.

Lefou had started a new job, and even though it was a more “grown-up” position than he’d been used to, he seemed to be adjusting well and the stress of unemployment was no longer lingering over his head, resulting in him being in a better mood overall.  Madeline was taking a few summer courses to get ahead on her schoolwork before the baby came.

Gaston was never insecure type, but he couldn’t help but be a little jealous that his friends seemed to be getting their lives put together, while he had eaten four day old leftover pizza for breakfast that morning.

Don’t misunderstand, he was excited for them.  Lefou had even begun to refer to him as “Uncle Gaston”, and while he would never admit it, he loved the title.  He’d even managed to find a onesie that proclaimed “If you think I’m cute, you should see my uncle!”

[lemonpeter]

STARKER, by Peter B. Parker

Chapter 5: Wedding

A/N: because it comes up in this chapter: we took the artistic liberty of changing canon, so our May was not blipped.

and the big day is finally here!! our babies are getting MARRIED!! enjoy all the sap! <3 -bloo and bri 💕

Warnings: marriage, reference to canonical character death

Masterlist ao3

————

"So, Tony," Mary started, leaning against her husband on the couch, glass of wine in hand. "How long have you and Peter known each other?"

Everyone was gathered in the sitting area, having just finished a wonderful home cooked meal of pot roast, potatoes, and roasted veggies, prepared by Mary, May, and Peter. But most of the work had been done by the latter.

Tony smiled softly at the question, casting a glance at Peter, who was tucked into his own side. He took a small sip from his glass before speaking. "A few years. We met through my job, actually. I was in a bit of a tricky situation, and in my search for possible- solutions, I stumbled across some of Peter's work. And I was absolutely blown away."

The statement elicited a hum of pride from Ben as he raised his beer in the air. “That’s our Pete, ever the genius. He gets it from his uncle.” The grin on his face was easy and relaxed as he nudged his knee against May’s.

Peter snorted out a quiet laugh, gazing at his uncle and then landing his eyes on Tony. “I was just happy to help,” he said sweetly. And it wasn’t untrue. He had been beyond thrilled to go to Berlin with Tony. He’d been idolizing the man nearly a decade at that point.

How had that been less than three years ago? It felt like a lifetime had passed since the day they first met, when he walked into their tiny apartment to find Tony Stark sitting on his couch, winking at him.

Mary nodded, an easy smile on her lips. “That’s perfect.” She looked at Richard, holding onto his hand. The diamond on her wedding ring glinted in the light. “Sounds a bit like us, doesn’t it?”

Her husband laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his gaze fond. “It does, doesn’t it? But like father, like son, I guess.” He grinned at Peter.

The young man laughed, smiling sheepishly. He knew it was different, completely so, but he made no effort to correct the statement. He liked the idea that he and Tony were like his parents. That they were just another normal couple, living a normal life. One without extraordinary responsibility, risk, pain, and loss.

The life that they were meant to live, together.

Tony chuckled, hugging Peter closer to his body. He kissed the top of his fiancé’s head, nearly a mirrored action of how the younger man’s parents had acted. And- wasn’t that something? “Well, I’m just glad I found him when I did. He changed me, and my life, for the better and I couldn’t imagine living without him at this point.”

May snorted, covering it with a cough. It wouldn’t have fit the scene for her to laugh at something that was seemingly so random. Especially since she was the only person in the room other than Peter that knew that this Tony definitely wouldn’t be able to imagine life without Peter. Not without direction from her nephew’s fantasy, that is.

Hopefully Peter wouldn’t catch her slip up.

He didn’t seem to, just glancing over to her for a second before looking at his mom as she spoke again.

“Now, what’s the plan for the wedding? When is it going to be? Oh, a late-summer wedding would be so lovely. What are you thinking?” Mary asked, rambling excitedly, eyes wide as she looked over at Tony and Peter. “I can’t believe our boy is finally getting married!”

May wished that she could ignore the way her heart clenched at the words. There was no ‘finally’. Peter shouldn’t have been getting married. He was far too young. She hated the way that no one else there could understand how wrong it all was. She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t real.

“Oh, well,” Peter paused and looked at Tony, both apprehension and joy visible in his eyes. He flipped his hand over on his thigh, opening and closing his fist until his partner got the hint and clasped their hands together. “We want to do something soon since everyone is here. Maybe that’s a bit unorthodox but-“

“But so are we,” Tony joked lightly, nodding encouragingly at the younger man.

Peter’s cheeks flushed a soft pink as he laughed. “Well, there’s no denying that.” And it was okay to joke about it. Because none of his family would think there was anything out of the ordinary. They couldn’t. All they’d see and react to was their love. As they should. “But yeah, something...within a few days?” Maybe even less than that.

He wanted to have his dream wedding as soon as he finished what little planning was left.

And with his family surrounding him, everything was almost complete.

It was going to be perfect.

***

With his guest list prepared and everyone nearby, the ideal venue nailed down, and the other details listed out in his notebook, Peter could only think of one last thing that needed to be taken care of.

His vows.

Sure, it wasn’t mandatory for him to write his own. But he needed Tony to know just how strong his love was, and he wanted his words to be something personal rather than the generic cookie-cutter vows. He couldn’t let such a meaningful event go by without taking the opportunity to convey how much he truly loved the older man.

So Peter started on that last step, the words pouring out of him as he wrote them down. It felt as if he was putting his whole heart onto the paper, bearing it for all to see. Luckily, none of the people who would witness the fruits of his efforts would be judging him in any way.

No one other than himself, that was.

***

The night before the wedding found Peter puttering around the bedroom in one of Tony’s band t-shirts and a pair of pajama pants. He ran his hands through his already unruly hair, going down his mental checklist, when the older man walked in. “Hey T,” he sighed, smiling softly in his direction.

“You’re sure I can’t sleep in here tonight?” Tony pouted, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His overnight bag was on the floor by his feet, the garment bag containing his suit already out in the living room for him to grab on his way to one of the guest rooms. Where his soon-to-be husband was insisting he spend the night.

Peter chuckled under his breath and took a few steps so that he was standing in front of the other man. He draped his arms around Tony’s neck, looking down into his eyes. “I’m positive.” When the pout only deepened at his words, he rolled his eyes playfully. “It’s bad luck for you to see me before tomorrow, Tony! I’m serious- You are not to lay eyes on me until I’m making my way to the altar!”

“I don’t think that superstition counts if you’re not wearing a dress,” the sulky man pointed out, grumbling under his breath. He paused, frowning at Peter once more for good measure. “But fine,” he muttered after a moment, having accepted his fate when Peter’s expression didn’t change. “At least give me a kiss to hold me over, then?”

And who was Peter to say no to that?

He leaned down a little, closing the short distance between them as he pressed his lips to Tony’s quickly. Just a peck.

Of course, it couldn’t just stay a soft kiss with Tony. He was immediately trying to turn it into more, pulling Peter closer and nipping at his bottom lip enticingly.

Despite the way his stomach swooped at the sensation, the younger man pulled away, laughing softly. “No, no. That’s not going to work. Don’t even try that.”

Tony hummed, a slightly smug look on his face. He seemed to know just what kind of reaction he’d elicited. “Don’t try what? I can’t say I know what you mean, Pete...”

Peter laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re impossible. You know that?” He kissed the older man gently one more time before sitting down on the bed beside him. Letting his head lean to the side to rest his temple on Tony’s shoulder, he let out a deep breath, just enjoying the warmth of the innocent contact.

“It’s one of my best qualities,” Tony shot back playfully, his own head tilting to lean on the top of Peter’s. He slowly stood up after a moment, stretching his back and rotating his torso a few times. He cast a look in the teen’s direction. “But fine, I’m going now. To that cold, empty guest room. Where I’ll sleep all alone,” he said dramatically, throwing his head back slightly with a flourish. He bent over to scoop his bag up from the ground and took a step away from the bed.

Despite knowing that his partner was joking, Peter couldn’t help the way his chest grew tight. He didn’t want to actually go to sleep without Tony. Just the thought caused his heart to lurch with panic and made him want to cry. He didn’t want to be away from him at all, not even in their current situation. Traditions be damned. “Tony...”

Turning around, the taller man raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?” He caught the look in the other’s eyes and immediately turned around to face him, taking a small step closer. “Peter? What is it, what’s wrong, baby? Is it what I said? I’m just joking, Pete, it’s okay. I’m sor-”

Peter shook his head rapidly. He sniffed softly to try and lessen the stinging sensation in the back of his nose. “No, no don’t be sorry Tony, I know you’re kidding. But- Can you maybe…,” he trailed off, blinking a few times against the moisture that was building up. His eyes locked on Tony’s before darting away.

God, why was he so anxious and upset? Literally all he needed to do was tell Tony that he’d changed his mind.

“I just- Can you stay, maybe?” He chanced a look back at Tony, who was nodding with the expression of someone who had just been asked what they thought was a ridiculously easy question.

“Of course, babydoll,” Tony said, dropping the small duffel to the floor and pulling the young man into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the side of his head and squeezed him tight for a moment. “C’mon, let’s go to bed, we can cuddle for a while.” He smiled softly as they pulled away from each other, ducking down quickly to touch his lips to Peter’s. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

***

Everything went smoothly after that. The couple slept soundly, snuggled together all night long with Peter’s head pressed up against Tony’s chest.

And they stayed that way for a while after waking, whispering to each other in the morning light. The two didn’t separate until it was absolutely necessary and they needed to get ready, lest they be late to their own wedding.

Everyone made their way to the venue (although the rest of them would have believed they traveled by car, Peter knew that all he’d done was shift the scene) and settled in their appropriate areas to get ready.

It was getting close to starting time and no one had seen Peter yet. So May decided that it could be a good time for her to fully immerse herself in the illusion once again.

“Not getting cold feet, are you?” She asked gently as she stepped into the room that was serving as the 'bridal' suite. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight that greeted her.

Peter was standing in front of the full-length mirror, his back to the door. His hair was curled haphazardly on top of his head, effortlessly beautiful, a few pieces falling down into his face as he fussed with the white button-up and black vest he was putting on to go with his dark tailored trousers

She was suddenly struck with the memory of watching a much smaller boy get himself ready for a funeral, staring at himself in the too-large suit jacket that had been her husband’s just a few days prior.

Just a little boy playing dress up, trying to be a man.

Peter’s head jerked up at the sound of her voice, and she realized that her sudden appearance must not have fit exactly with his script for this scene.

He made eye contact with her in the mirror, finishing up the last button on his shirt. An excited yet nervous smile tugged at his lips. “What? Of course not.” The tone of his voice suggested that he thought it silly, the notion that he’d ever second guess marrying Tony. That it was a decision he would happily make without thinking at all.

And in her opinion, he kind of was.

The woman held back her reservations and gave him a gentle smile, coming to help with the tie that was hanging undone around his neck. “I’m glad to hear that, bubby.” At least, that’s what she was going to lead Peter to believe. She still didn’t approve, illusion or not.

It was only partially due to the fact that the other party involved was Tony Stark. Her dislike, bordering on apathy, for the man was no secret. He’d gotten her nephew, her baby, killed further away from home than she’d ever even imagined possible. But not before whisking him away on a covert mission to Germany, then abandoning him after burdening him with what was an absurd amount of responsibility for even a grown man. Peter had come clean about everything after he returned from the Blip.

She never forgot the way she felt when she saw the video of Peter being dragged into space by that creature, the panic of not being able to get in touch with him.

Nor the way Tony Stark had shown up on her doorstep, haggard and unkempt, after dodging her calls for weeks. How he wasn’t able to even look her in the eye as he confirmed what she already knew- That her baby wasn’t coming home, that he’d been taken away from her without the chance to say goodbye. The chance to tell him that he was enough, that he didn’t need to save the world to be worthy. That he was her world.

She’d come to a sort of peace about it all after the Blip was reversed. She never absolved Stark of the role he played in Peter’s death, but she was able to reconcile it with the fact that he sacrificed his own life to restore those of half of the world’s population.

With that, she believed that she’d never have to see him again. He was gone. And that was just fine with her.

Yet he was still haunting her. The very man who she felt was at fault for robbing her of five years with Peter was causing her nephew to break, to get lost in his own mind. The ass was dead, but he was still managing to screw things up.

Because even the near-peace she felt she had reached towards the man didn't mean she was okay him marrying, or even dating, her underage nephew. Sure, Peter was the age of consent in New York, but that was just a technicality. She kept having to remind herself that none of it was real, but rather an extremely detailed fantasy that she was experiencing secondhand.

She was definitely going to talk to Peter about the relationship once the whole thing was over. He had to know that none of it was possible in the real world.

Peter couldn’t let go. He’d already lost so much, she could see that he couldn’t bear to lose this too. Not at the moment. It was the one place he felt safe and happy, after not feeling either of those things for who knew how long.

And May was forced to watch helplessly from the side.

She could see that he was different. Even if what she saw wasn’t his physical body, there was a look in his eyes that broke her heart. It was almost wild as he frantically grasped at pieces of his reality, unhinged. But his eyes also held a dullness that she hadn’t seen in a long time. One she’d hoped to never see again.

The same look she’d seen on that newly orphaned little boy’s face on the way home from the service, in the faraway expression on the lanky teen that had lost yet another person he loved.

She had to keep reminding herself of the plan. She had to play along to the best of her abilities and keep Peter happy until she could convince him to shut the illusion down and come home.

Everything in her wanted to beg him to just give up this mess and come home to her already. She’d barely had him back before he was gone again, this time of his own accord. But she knew that she couldn’t. Not yet. She just had to play along.

Hopefully not for much longer.

The woman directed her attention back to Peter after pushing the thoughts away. “It’s about time to get this show on the road, isn’t it?” She didn’t want to give him away. Even if it was just for this fantasy of his. It felt like she was losing him entirely to the world he’d created in his mind.

Peter nodded slowly, hands fidgeting nervously with his clothes. “Yeah, almost. I should probably start...heading out there, huh? Although it’s not like things can start without me,” he joked softly.

May figured that much was definitely true. “Yeah, I guess you should. And I should too. I’ll be right there, bubby. Right next to Ben and your parents.” The words felt wrong to say. No matter how badly either of them wanted it, Mary and Richard were never going to be there to see him get married. Neither was her Ben.

But there they were anyways. Saving a seat for her.

She wasn’t sure if it was any better than sitting beside three empty seats, reserved for people incapable of occupying them.

***

There was an easy smile on Peter's face as he looked around, heart pounding. It was nearly time for it to really begin. Almost time to finally make his way down the aisle.

He was really going to marry the man of his dreams. He was gonna marry Tony Stark.

Then the scene began shifting, the walls slowly disappearing from around him.

His heart nearly stopped. He was worried that the whole thing was all falling apart, melting away right before his eyes. Panic bloomed in his chest. But he was still in control, evidenced by the small bouquet of flowers he thought into existence on a whim, so he didn’t understand what could possibly have been happening.

When the smoke (or pixels, technically) cleared and he could finally work out his surroundings again, he felt tears stinging his eyes as his breath caught in his throat.

It wasn’t the huge, extravagant venue from before. Not even close. Gone was the large ballroom, striking in its opulence. There was nothing grand or luxurious about what he saw now but it felt so much more like them. It was perfect.

All around Peter was a bright, plush green meadow dotted with pastel-colored wildflowers. Tall trees surrounded the perimeter of the clearing, separating them from the rest of the world. Sunlight shone through the foliage in scattered beams, casting everything in an ethereal glow. The air was sweet and calm, instantly calming his nerves.

Turning his head, he saw that he was standing on the porch of a small log cabin. May was standing in the entryway, watching him with wide eyes. It warmed his heart to see how emotional she was, how much she cared about him and his happiness.

And just a few yards away was the ceremony. Tony was already standing in front of the makeshift altar with Uncle Ben, eyes shining as he watched Peter. He smiled softly before biting his lip and winking, the actions at odds with the way he brought a hand up in a slight wave before clasping them both in front of him. His thumbs wrestled with each other, twiddling back and forth.

Peter recognized the gesture as something his lover did when he was feeling nervous about something and trying to hide it.

Too bad Peter knew most of his tells.

The young man smiled from the steps as he began descending them, stepping down into the lush grass in a few strides.

He caught movement out the corner of his eye and he watched as a small pastel yellow butterfly landed on the wildflower bouquet clutched in his left hand.

A soft laugh bubbled up from Peter’s chest. He just couldn’t help himself. He thought he’d had what he wanted, but what he ended up with was so much better than he could have imagined. It was absolutely magical.

He turned around slightly when he heard May come to stand beside him.

“You ready, baby?” Her eyes were shining wetly behind her glasses, the wind gently blowing the skirt of her lilac colored dress.

Nodding, Peter took a deep breath and clutched at his aunt’s hand. “I’m getting married, May,” he said quietly, awestruck and wide eyed as they started making their way to the altar, unable to help the teary smile on his face.

May sniffled and squeezed his hand. “Yeah, you are, bubby.” Her voice was soft, but he could hear the slight wobble she was trying to hide. “You make sure he treats you right, okay?”

“I know he will,” Peter assured her, turning to look at the older man as they walked, the song of the birds in the trees serving as the wedding march. “Tony would never do anything to hurt me.”

May just hummed softly in response, locking eyes with Ben as they reached the beginning of the trail of brightly colored petals leading up to the altar, which had the same blooms intertwined with the lattice of the thin sticks it was composed of. She choked out a wet laugh when the man just grinned and winked at her.

Peter felt something give in his chest at the interaction, struck by the familiarity, and he clutched the bouquet tighter in his hand when Tony’s eyes met his.

The teen didn’t look away once until he and May came to a stop in front of the two men.

His aunt pressed her lips to his cheek in a kiss, squeezing his hand one last time and taking the bouquet from him before going to sit down beside his parents, who were seated on a wooden bench a few feet away from them.

Ben took a small step forward to knock his elbow against Peter’s. “You ready, champ?” His eyes searched the boy’s as the younger nodded. “Great,” he said softly, grinning as he moved back to his spot, glancing at Tony before turning to his family.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of the two men standing in front of me, Peter and Tony. To celebrate their love. Which is something I’m fortunate enough to know a thing or two about, myself. My May, our love and the wonderful life I’ve been able to share with her, that’s the most special thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’m overjoyed that Peter has found his own soulmate.”

Peter sniffled, tears already stinging in his eyes, despite the fact that they’d just gotten started. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, fingers twitching restlessly.

“I’ll be reading some traditional vows, but first, Tony and Peter have some words they’d like to share with each other. You're up first, right Pete?” Ben turned his head toward the younger man.

The teen nodded at his uncle and looked down at his feet, taking a deep breath before lifting his head up and gazing deeply into the eyes of the man he was about to marry.

"Tony," he said, voice cracking. "I've spent hours trying to figure out what I wanted to say to you, but nothing I came up with seemed good enough. And I realized that nothing ever would be, and that all I could do was try my best to show you how much I love you. And that's just it, that's exactly what I'm going to spend the rest of our life doing. So I- Tony, I promise to always do my best, to be the best man that I can. Because you and your love are the best thing that will ever happen to me." He took a shaky breath, steeling himself for his next words. “And I know that nothing is stronger than our love for each other.”

The older man gazed at him, eyes alight with adoration. “I’ll be the first to admit that I never really believed in true love. Had I felt love, even been in love before? Yeah, of course. But none of that ever felt predestined, none of it felt like fate. None of that was inevitable.” He paused, swallowing thickly. “But then I met you, Pete. And you completely turned my world upside down. You changed everything.”

A soft sound slipped from Peter’s lips, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent it from happening again. “Tony,” he said tearfully, the sound muffled by his palm.

His love just shook his head and shot him a wobbly smile. “It’s true, baby. You are what was always missing, that thing that I never knew I needed, but now know I cannot live without. And I’ll continue to do whatever is necessary to ensure that I never have to. You’ll never want for anything, physically or emotionally. I vow to give you all of me, everything that I am. Because you’re it for me, Peter.” The tears escaping his eyes did nothing to take away from the lopsided grin that overtook his face. “This right here...this is my endgame.”

Peter’s mouth was open before he could stop it. “I love you,” he blurted as he reached out to grab the older man’s hand, biting back a sob. “Tony I love you so much-,” he rushed out.

Tony chuckled, the hand Peter wasn’t holding moving up to cup his cheek and swipe away the tear that was rolling down his skin. “I love you too, baby.”

It was quiet, everyone touched as the love between the two of them was put on display.

“And I guess it’s my turn now.” Ben cleared his throat after a moment in an attempt to get rid of the lump that had formed there. “If you’ll take out the rings, please.” He waited as the men each pulled a thin gold band from their pockets. "Do you, Peter Benjamin Parker, take this man, Anthony Edward Stark, to be your lawfully wedded husband-"

"I do, you know I do," Peter choked out through his tears, unable to keep himself from interrupting yet again. He reached out for Tony’s hand and clumsily slid the metal onto his ring ringer. The chuckles that followed caused a red flush to take over his face, but he held fast to his statement. Of course he did, Tony was the most important person in his life. Getting to marry him and spend the rest of their days together was a dream come true. He wasn’t sorry about it at all.

His uncle just shook his head, smiling fondly at his excitement. "Alright, hold your horses, Pete- And do you, Anthony Edward Stark, take this man, Peter Benjamin Parker, to be your lawfully wedded husband?" He paused there, eyes shining as he playfully glanced at Tony as if he were going to interrupt as well.

Tony just bit back a smirk, eyes moving from Ben back to Peter. His hands squeezed at the younger man’s, and his eyes twinkled in the afternoon light that came through the trees.

Ben continued once it was clear that the man was going to keep quiet until it was his turn to speak. "To have and to hold from this day forward? To love and to cherish for better or worse, for richer or poorer, through sickness and in health, til death do you part?"

“I do,” Tony answered, not breaking his gaze at Peter as he spoke. Then he did look away, taking both of Peter’s hands in his to place the ring on his finger, running his thumb over it once it was in place.

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mr. Stark. You may now kiss your husband.”

Their lips met before the sentence was even finished.

***

Peter laughed as he was lifted into the air, not fighting it as Tony grabbed him bridal-style and carried him into the cabin he had exited earlier. “What are you doing?” His giddiness was apparent in his voice.

“What? I’m carrying you over the threshold,” Tony told him with a grin. “It’s traditional. I was under the impression that you were all for traditions.” He carried his husband through the doorway, leaning down to kiss him gently.

They were officially husbands.

As their lips met, the scene began shifting again.

The soft, homey feel of the cabin slowly melted away, a more sophisticated room developing around them. It was almost like watching instant film develop, though much faster. The sounds of family and nature slowly ceased. All that mattered was Tony and their kiss. The way Tony’s slightly chapped lips were moving against his.

When they finally parted again and opened their eyes the setting was completely changed.

Tony didn’t seem to notice, carrying Peter over to the plush white bed and setting him down. His eyes drank in the way the teen looked in the evening light, bathed in the pinks and purples of the sunset outside. “I think this will be a wonder to sleep on tonight. As well as...other things,” he said suggestively.

Peter laughed, shaking his head as he glanced around the room. The bed was huge, a california king like the one in the penthouse, with crisp sheets and topped with a down comforter that swallowed him up like a cloud as he lay on top of it. Two of the walls were almost completely glass, reminding him of their bedroom and making him feel at home in the luxurious setting.

It was way nicer than anything he’d ever actually been in, except maybe for the hotel they’d stayed in on their ‘retreat’ to Berlin. But this time he wasn’t down the hall from Tony, they were sharing a room. Sharing a bed. And it was perfect. His blood thrummed in his veins. “Oh yeah? That’s some pretty big talk. You sound like you have plans.”

The older man hummed, crawling onto the bed with his husband after kicking his shoes off and leaving them to land on the plush dark gray carpet. “I just might. Would you be interested in hearing them?”

“Hmm. Perhaps I could be persuaded.” Peter stretched out on the bed, stroking one hand through Tony’s hair as the man leaned his forehead against his chest, pressing a kiss over his heart. “Of course I wanna know, I’m just teasing.” One of his hands came up to grab at Tony’s hair.

Tony nodded, a soft hum escaping his lips as he moved up closer in order to kiss Peter again. He shifted and nudged a knee between the young man’s thighs to support himself as he hovered over his body. The kiss deepened, mouths moving together sensually before they pulled apart to breathe, only to reconnect seconds later, neither of them wanting to part any time soon.

They could leave the talking and just do. Following the way they felt, using their bodies to communicate with each other, was so much better than talking it out, anyways. There was no second-guessing, no pausing to try and get the words right.

Their bodies stayed intertwined the rest of the night, the newlywed husbands hardly parting from each other once.

And nothing was going to break them apart.

Til death do us part, their vows claimed.

But not even death was strong enough to do such a thing.

[ars-simia-animus]

You’ll Rise Up, Free and Easy

This is the second story in my series Amphora, an alternate-reality historical fan fiction based on the characters Tony Stark and Peter Parker from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The characters’ personalities remain mostly intact, but I’ve inserted them into my own reality for them. The series is set at the turn of the 20th Century.

This story is considerably darker than the first; it follows Tony Stark’s difficult childhood. Please exercise safe reading-- the story is not meant to hurt anybody!

I’ve used this platform to purge some personal demons through the metaphor of child abuse. Keep yourself safe and feel free to read the next story in the series (at this time, it is unwritten) as it will not have that focus.

Story Summary: Peter Parker, a brilliantly talented ceramicist-in-training, has been Tony Stark's apprentice for ten days. To his delight, he's able to work closely with Tony and begins to learn more about him and bond with him. However, just as it seems that they are becoming an established part of each other's lives, tragedy puts distance between them.Peter strives to be a source of comfort and support for Tony during a season of grieving, adapting how he shows love to the ways Tony knows how to accept it.

Read the story after the break.

Chapter One: “Chokeberry and Baby Cheeks”

Early May, 1868

“Young Sir?” Jarvis peered around the trunk of a young chokeberry tree at the youth who was crouching in the knoll at its roots. He stepped around, keeping a gingerly distance for he could see that the boy was vulnerable, like a raw nerve.

Tony, blushing from exertion and violence, sat panting a few moments longer, ignoring Jarvis. He clutched at his right fist which was torn across the knuckles. Sweat was heavy on his face and neck and the smell, like well water, hung on him. There was blood peeking under his nose, a thin film across his teeth, as well as a cut on his left eyebrow.

Finally, Tony swallowed to force the remaining moisture evenly in his dry mouth and said, “Is Father going to be home tonight?”

Jarvis removed a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to him. “To my knowledge.” When Tony didn’t take the handkerchief, Jarvis pressed it under his nose himself. Tony resisted, but ceased struggling almost immediately. “Perhaps, though, when he arrives tonight, you’ll already be in bed, Young Sir.”

Tony looked up at him and said in a questioning way, as though expecting betrayal. “You’ll tell him.” Then he added, without waiting for an answer, “Damn British butlers and their sensibilities…” Tony took over the pressure on the handkerchief and Jarvis stood upright again.

Jarvis said sternly, “Let’s leave damnation to the clergy, shall we, sir? Unless you’re studying to become one?”

Tony scoffed then lowered his gaze deferentially.

Offering a hand, Jarvis said, “Strand up, please; crouching on the ground like a gopher is not dignified for a young man.” Jarvis noticed Tony roll his eyes as he obeyed; the butler stifled a smile. The boy pinched the handkerchief and removed it. Jarvis saw with relief that his nose was not bleeding anymore.

When Tony was standing before him, meeting his eyes, Jarvis leaned toward him confidentially. “As far as a British butler’s sensibilities are concerned, I am your father’s servant, not a spy. I have no inclination to report your behavior only for the sake of it.”

Tony listened, blinking at him passively.

Jarvis’s voice softened. “The only time I might do so is if I deem your actions would lead you to greater danger than you would receive at Master Stark’s hands. Are we at an understanding?”

At this Tony smirked and Jarvis nodded in a decisive manner. “Besides, any injurious behavior I witness from you, I shouldn’t wonder to think that we two could reach an understanding without need to concern your father.” He gave Tony a poignant look. “Do you agree, sir?”

This time Tony nodded but still smirked. He seemed to remember the times Jarvis could have handed him over to Howard, but didn’t. That was good enough for the boy to trust him. On those occasions, Jarvis would let him explain himself, rant, cry, and blame others, firmly correcting him if he was disrespectful, but otherwise allowing him to fully express his grievances. Then, he would speak to Tony solemnly but patiently, like he was a man.

“Now,” Jarvis said, shifting to a more curious tone, “might you inform me what foreign object collided with your face so as to leave you in such a state? Perhaps also, what response to the object you gave?”

Tony erupted. “I was trying to keep these boys from carving up my friend’s tree!” Unleashing his pent up desperation caused Tony’s voice to crack. His hand swung wide behind him to indicate the chokeberry tree. “He told them not to and they keep coming back to do it anyway! And they laughed about it because they knew it upset him. He’s real keen on this tree for some reason.”

“Your friend, Master Potts?” Jarvis asked.

Tony nodded. He huffed and tried to hide his emotion by chewing on his lip. There were little tears at the corners of his eyes. He was much more comfortable showing anger than any other emotion, even joy. Often he would mask his feelings with shouts, huffs, shoves, scowls, glares— or sarcasm and jokes, which Jarvis considered a “creative form of aggression.” Of course, if his father were around, he adopted a sullen disposition, or, at times, was an avatar of Howard Stark’s own persona. When Howard was away, his son became Tony again -- guarded, but more volatile. However, Jarvis had a talent for flaying the rage from the sadness or fear underneath.

“The other boys wish to carve it, you say?”

“Yes, you know, Jarvis, like their initials or something, like people do.”

“I see, sir,” Jarvis said and paused to think. He looked at the chokeberry tree; it was still a sapling, though nearly mature. The foamy white buds swayed in their clusters in the Northern wind.

Tony also turned and looked at the tree. “Samuel thinks the flowers look like lace. He’s kind of silly, but a good kid .”

Jarvis was slightly amused by Tony’s condescending use of the term “kid” when he was scarcely eleven years old himself. “A special tree indeed, sir. However, I couldn’t advise you to endeavor to stop them by force.”

Tony shuffled. Though he rolled his eyes, Jarvis felt respect in him, so he continued. “Or your fists for that matter.”

“We ought to put up a wall.” Tony muttered. “With barbed wire.”

“A creative solution, though, it would quite obstruct the view, wouldn’t you agree?” Jarvis deadpanned.

Tony sighed through his nose. “What about a trapping pit, then?”

Jarvis examined the grass stains on the knees of Tony’s trousers. “Better widen the scope of your innovation, Young Sir.” He replied absently while considering how he could clean the blood from the shirt and jacket so that Mrs. Stark wouldn’t notice. She kept strict inventory of her son’s wardrobe, particularly when they were abroad, as they were now.

Then, he remarked, catching Tony off guard, “I am pleased to see you’ve made such an important friend here, sir.”

Tony sniffed and shrugged. After a couple kicks at the ground beneath, he said: “Jarvis, I’m hungry. Is it luncheon yet?”

“You should just have time to bathe and make yourself presentable, sir.”

Jarvis led him back to the Starks’ Toronto estate by a covered path in the garden that was seldom used so no one would see the rough condition he was in.

January, 1903

When Peter threw open the front door of his and May’s house in Queens, Tony couldn’t help but notice the cotton scarf wrapped over his ears. “Mr. Stark! Come see how my latest test glaze turned out, sir!” He stepped quickly out of the way so Tony could enter and held out his arms to take his mentor’s coat, muffler, and hat. “I’ve decided to leave off on the layerings of celadon and copper red glazes and am trying some strike firing techniques with a different glaze mixture.”

Tony’s brow knotted in concern, but he remarked, lightly, “Interesting head adornment, Ms. Mozart. Do you have a toothache?”

Peter touched the thin cloth around his head. “Oh. No, May wants me to wear this to keep my ears warm.” He added, as though trying not to lie: “I’ve had an earache the past few days.”

“Small wonder!” Tony scolded. “I seem to recall you running around most of Christmas week in the icy wind with no hat. Probably blew all manner of viruses into your empty head!”

Peter looked at him unhappily. “But! I’m not contagious, the doctor says. I don’t even have a fever! Anymore.”

Failing to hide his amusement as Peter fell over himself verbally, Tony waited and said, “Easy Pete. No one’s planning to take you behind the barn and shoot you.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’ll get you sick, Mr. Stark.” Peter said. “I’ve been so looking forward to experimenting with you on peach bloom glaze. And, well…” A look of contrition contorted his face. As he began wringing his hands, Tony removed his coat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. It’s selfish of me.”

Tony hung his hat on the hook and then placed a hand on Peter’s head, tousling the scarf along with his curls. “You can’t run me off so easily, kid. I’m not worried over earaches.”

Peter grinned and led him through the hall and dining room, into the kitchen and to the scullery, his little ceramics alcove.

“Read me the recipe notes for this one,” Tony said. He tapped one of the five flat slats of clay arranged before him. The tiles reminded him of dominoes and he came to enjoy the plink clink sound when he handled them. On each was the same glaze mixture but each had undergone a variant firing schedule.

Peter hurriedly finished chewing a piece of sponge candy so he could complete the request. Tony had brought over a box of the candy as a treat while they worked. (“Pepper would like you to believe this is a present from her , but, as I am the one who brought it to you, and in this weather, I think the credit is due to me. So, you’re welcome.”)

Peter leafed through his small notebook. “For this test,” Peter read, “Gerstley Borate, 10.7%; Whiting, 10.7%; NC-4 Feldspar, 40.3%...” Tony nodded as he listened. He plucked the tile from the table and rubbed his thumb over it absently. Peter finished. “Then I added the tin oxide.”

“What percentage to the mixture?” Tony asked. He returned the tile and picked up his favorite. The freckling green, created by the high reduction period of the firing, spider-crawled through the patchy blush of peach. It truly bid his heart to rush at the beauty.

“.5% but I’m thinking of adding a higher percentage next test.”

Tony smiled and looked at him. “Why’s that?”

Peter was leaning eagerly toward him across the table, resting most of his weight on his elbows beneath him. Like a small animal, his eyes were round and animated as he piped: “More tin oxide will create a milkier effect on the glaze. Right?”

Proudly, Tony nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

Peter seemed to realize that his mentor was pleased with him and he ducked his head, grinning. It was such an unrestrained expression of delight that Tony looked away. Peter had received so little guidance from his previous master that the kid was starved for feedback. Blessed now with more attention, Peter was accelerating in his pursuit of the craft.

Tucking away a surge of affection for the boy, Tony followed up, confirming, “That’s the effect your artistic little heart is set on, right?”

Peter chose another piece of sponge candy from the box. “Yes,” he said and Tony caught how that dreaminess he sometimes got began to cloud his eyes. “The glaze is meant to resemble a ripening peach, sir, with green mottles on a blushing pink.” Peter crunched the candy contemplatively then spread his fingers over his cheeks. “Well, I was very much hoping for a kind of baby’s cheeks look.”

“Baby’s cheeks?” Tony asked and he took some candy, too. “Is that a technical term? Or one of your isms?”

Peter blushed in answer. “Do you know what I mean, Mr. Stark?” He pantomimed a moment, to illustrate his words. “Have you ever held a baby close and looked at their cheeks?”

A slight twitch ran across Tony’s face, but he answered, unaffectedly, “Yes, kid, I have had occasion to see a human in infancy.”

Clicking his tongue, Peter replied, “That’s not what I meant, Mr. Stark.” He mined again, as though it would help. His nose nuzzled into the crook of his elbow. “Have you seen how a baby’s cheeks are so fair that their skin mottles when warm? And they get so rosy, sir?”

“Do they?” Tony said. He was trying to be patient with Peter’s reverie. Normally, he would sit back and enjoy the funny expression on the kid’s face and the rambling explanations for his thoughts that only made it more challenging to understand how his mind worked, but this was a tender subject for Tony.

He and Pepper were unable to have children, except through adoption. Pepper was anguished by the idea, though, so they never had. Instead, they supported and improved the orphanages and children’s homes of New York as well as they could, as benefactors.

“My friend, Ned— his mother had a baby a couple years back, with his step-father and she let me hold her— well, actually his mother had me and Ned hold her for a few hours while she cleaned and mended and took a nap and cooked… but, his sister was pretty as a picture, sir! Her cheeks would go dusky when she cried and they looked like red onions.” He laughed. “It wasn’t a nice sound she made, though.”

Tony regarded him with a gnarled expression. “You’re a rare one, kid. Not many find the inherent attractiveness of colic.”

“Will you and Mrs. Stark have a baby, Mr. Stark?”

Bucking a little, Tony reminded himself that this was a harmless question. Peter was silly-hearted and likely excited by the prospect of a child entering his life, even by some distant channel. Tony composed the ache in his chest. He sniffed and said, “Not likely. My lifestyle is not very conducive for raising a kid. Besides, I have my hands full as it is.”

Peter blinked. He said, “With what?” Innocence was plain on his face.

“With what?” Tony snorted indignantly.

“With me?” Peter asked, even more innocently.

Tony pushed out of his seat and marched across the floor. “Bonehead! I do have a life beyond you and your ceramics. I am a very busy inventor, businessman, and philanthropist. You may have heard.”

Peter stared at him, perplexed.

Tony turned back. His arms flapped at his sides as a segue. “Well, are we going to increase the amount of tin oxide or should I return to my heavily-booked agenda? I’m sure Pepper would not mind having me chained back in the office, if you have no more need of my time.”

“Yes, sir!” Peter said. He managed to hide his smile from his flustered mentor as he donned his apron.‪

[wolfypuppypiles]

I’m sorry, Tony: Chapter 4

Rocket laughed manically as he crawled up onto Groot’s shoulders and pointed to the present that the tree was handing Stark.

“We grew it from one of Groot’s toes that got cut off in the fight. He wanted the Spider baby to have them, he said he likes him better than our Peter.”

The tree smiled as Tony took the gift. “I am Groot.”

Rocket frowned at his friend. “I already put that in the card.”

Groot looked up with what Tony could only describe as a cheeky grin. “I am Groot. I ammm Groot.”

The racoon smacked the tree on the side of the head, baring his teeth as he snarled. “Don’t tell him that! I’ll give it back when I’m finished, I just thought it would be funny to see him fly without a butt.”

Tony didn’t even want to know what they were talking about, but smiled at the now giggling tree as Rocket chewed playfully on his head.

“Thanks …. You two. I’ll give it to him.”

He sighed as he walked to Peter’s room, trying to get the scary image of the talking animal and plant duo out of his head. Oh well, just another thing to give him nightmares.

Tony could hear a scuffle as he walked down the hall. Voices talking, followed by a crash and a small yelp as if someone had fallen. He ran down the hall to Peters room, heart hammering in his chest with worry at what could have caused the noise. But when he got there, he was greeted with the sight of Ned toppled over in a wheelchair, as May Parker tried to help her nephew from his bed.

Tony took a moment to sigh in relief before going over to help Ned off the floor, and right the wheelchair.

“I think you need a little more practice.” Ned blushed, embarrassed, and picked Peter’s bags up from the floor.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m helping.”

Tony offered him a smile and turned back to Peter, who was still laughing at his friend. He was healed enough to be sent home, so Tony was transferring him to Avenger tower to heal completely. He knew he had to let the kid go home at some point but he didn’t like the idea of sending Peter home when he couldn’t even walk properly yet.

He was still weak from the trauma he endured, and although he was healing faster than most, he still needed time to get stronger.  

May’s hands were around his waist as he tried to stand from the bed, his legs were shaky and one of his arms came to wrap protectively around his chest.

Tony instinctively reached out his hands to catch the kid should he fall. He wanted to hold back and let May handle it, but he couldn’t stop himself when Peter let out a whimper, his knees buckling just a little.

Tony dropped the gift he’d brought and caught the teenager, giving May a small smile.

“I got him. Ned get the chair over here.” The other boy hurried over, wheeling the chair close enough that Tony would be able to ease Peter into it.

Peter held onto Tony’s arm as he was supported into the seat, sighing in relief when he was sitting down again. Stark patted his shoulder.

“Just take it slow, Pete.”

The kid smiled up at him and blushed as he lifted his arms so May could tuck a blanket around his lap. Ned laughed a little, holding Peters bags to his chest.

“You look like an old man.”

May laughed and leant down to squish Peters cheek with her kiss. “No, he looks like my wonderful little man.”

Tony could tell that Peter was embarrassed, who wouldn’t be? Peter was Spider-Man, he swung from buildings and caught cars with his bare hands and now he couldn’t even walk by himself.

Stark cleared his throat and picked up the present he’d previously dropped on the floor. He handed it to the Spider-Man, smiling at his wide eyes.

“The plants from the …. I think they called themselves the guardians of the galaxy. Their tree thing grew them for you. And then he told me his name for the millionth time. Anyway, they also sent a card.”

Peter held the pot in his lap, it was actually a coffee cup from a vending machine, but it had a ribbon around it, and a bundle of small flowers growing up from inside. Peter wasn’t much for flowers but they were beautiful, they glowed softly and he was pretty sure they were singing.

Tony passed over a card, which had a sick teddy bear on the front that someone had drawn over, in scribbly pen, to make the bear look mad, with claws and teeth. It looked more like a racoon. Inside were the signatures of the avengers, new and old, as well as their new friends from space. Steve’s handwriting was in the middle, large letter’s displaying their message.

“You did a good job out there, and we couldn’t have done it without you. Get better and we’ll see you on the next mission.”

Peter felt himself tearing up, as he looked at the signatures of all his hero’s. They cared about him. He sniffed and wiped his eyes, trying to pretend like he wasn’t about to cry.

Tony smiled and pretended not to see.

“We’d better get you home and healed up. I’m having a party at my place for all of them and you’re invited. I’ve set it for a few weeks so you have time to get back into shape.”

Peter’s eyes went wide as Ned tried to contain his excitement and May looked unsure.

“Really? A party?”

Tony shrugged, as if it weren’t a big deal. “Yeah, last time we saved New York we went out for lunch and this battle was a lot more intense. I thought we deserved to celebrate.”  He turned to May, his hands raised in surrender. “Don’t worry, it won’t get out of hand. I know it seems like it would with so many super powers in one room, but Captain Perfect can’t even get drunk, and he always keeps everything in line.”

May looked like she was about to answer, when Peter took her sleeve. “Aunt May? Could I talk to Mr Stark, alone? I just… have to ask him something.”

The woman looked concerned but smiled and kissed her nephew on the forehead. “Okay, sweet heart. Ned and I will be waiting outside.”

She took the other kids arm and left, Tony looking down at the teenager uncertainly. He had a few things he wanted to say himself, and when Peter didn’t say anything, he took a seat on the bed next to the kids wheelchair.

“You okay, Pete?”

That face, now thankfully free from most of his bruises and cuts, peered up at him. “I just wanted to thank you, for saving me again. I’m sorry I couldn’t help more…I tried to do what you said and think about my moves more. It all just happened so fast and that guy was huge, he didn’t even-“

Tony quickly stopped his rambling, laying a hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s okay. You did really good, Peter. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The boy sighed in relief. “Oh, good. I just thought you might be mad at me, because you haven’t really been saying much and you…don’t seem to be able to look at me.”

Tony swallowed. He’d hoped he hadn’t noticed, but looking at Peter made him feel sick. Seeing him hurt and weak, and knowing it was his fault…he couldn’t get past it. He couldn’t sleep without Peter’s screams and plea’s invading his mind. He removed his hand from the teenagers shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you, I was just worried.” He didn’t know how to say everything in the right way. This was all so hard, and Tony and never been good at caring about people, much less expressing it. It was like everything he wanted to say was trapped in his mouth, but it all got chewed but before he could say it, and it came out jumbled and messy. God, he felt like such a child.

Peter’s voice was quiet as he reached for the older man’s arm. “Tony?”

Stark realized he hadn’t said anything in a while, and quickly shoved his chewed-up words from his mouth.

“I’m sorry for what I had to do to you, back there. I know it was horrible, and it was my fault and- If you want to stop being Spider-Man or stop being an Avenger, I understand. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t want this for you. And if it takes a while to forgive me I understand.”

Peter frowned, confused. “What…did you do?”

Tony blinked, starting at the kid with shock. “The…” He gestured to Peter’s chest, and the teenager looked down, pressing his hands against his shirt.

“Oh, I actually don’t even remember most of it. I don’t know what happened, and Aunt May won’t tell me. She just said I got hurt and you saved me. Why would I want to stop being Spider-Man?”

Tony didn’t know what to say. May didn’t want her nephew to know, maybe he shouldn’t tell him.

“You don’t remember?”

Peter shook his head. “I was going to ask you. Or ask Karen once you fixed the suit. What do I have to forgive you for?” He didn’t look scared, even as he sat in a wheelchair, covered in bandages and too weak to stand. He wasn’t afraid, only worried about…Tony?

“You can tell me.” He was still so young, and Stark didn’t want to take away anymore innocence than he already had. But he couldn’t say no to those huge eyes looking up at him, and if he didn’t tell him, he’d only find out a way to get the information himself and that could be worse.

“You…took a hit from one of Thanos's aliens, and you were bleeding out. I had to stop it, so I…I cauterized the wound with one of the beams from my Iron Man suit.” Tony felt like throwing up just thinking about it, and swallowed thickly as his face turned slightly pale.

“Mantis tried to help but you were in a lot of pain, and we almost lost you. You wouldn’t stop screaming. Then I flew you here.”

Peter looked a little pale too, and pressed his hand back to his chest. At least now he finally understood why his wound looked the way it did. Tony spoke again, watching Peter’s furrowed brows, and hoping he could still be forgiven.

“I’m so sorry, that you had to go through that. I should never have brought you into this battle and-“

Peter interrupted, one hand still on his ribs while the other held the plant on his lap. His fingers gently tapped at the coffee cup, as he thought.

“That would have been horrible for you.”

Tony didn’t think he’d heard right. “What?”

Peter looked up at him, face pinched in concern, rather than anger that Tony had thought he’d be faced with.

“I can’t believe you did that for me. I can’t stand to watch May even cry and you saved me when I was…” His eyes flittered away as he remembered something. “I had a nightmare, where you were talking to me and I was in so much pain I couldn’t think about anything else. I could hear someone screaming…I didn’t know it was me.”

Tony took a deep breath. “Those nightmares might take a while to go away, but everyone gets them, trust me. Don’t deal with them by yourself either, talk to Ned or your Aunt May and you have my number if you want to talk to me about them. Everyone gets them, trust me. Even Natasha.”

Peter looked shocked, but he had a hint of something else in his eyes, like a little bit of relief.

“Black Widow has nightmares?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, we do some pretty scary stuff, and you almost died so, you’re entitled to some bad dreams.”

He hesitated then, not knowing if he wanted an answer.

“How much do you remember from the battle?”

Peter looked down at his plant as he thought, touching the flowers lightly with a gentle finger, eliciting a high-pitched, happy hum from each bud he stroked.

“I was really scared, and I didn’t really know what I was doing, but everyone needed protecting so I just went for it. That Thanos guy was massive, and…it’s kind of hard to put the pieces together, some bits are missing, I think. The last thing I remember was swinging around with Groot and Rocket. Those guys are so cool, and we were taking down the aliens while you guys went for Thanos but then one of the aliens went for you and I thought you were going to die. So, I went to stop it But I didn’t have enough time to do anything and I just… jumped in front of you before it could stab you.”

Tony felt like throwing up again. Peter had saved his life. And he hadn’t known.

Tony let out a scared breath. “You could have died. You…almost died.”

Peter looked up at him again, smiling like nothing was wrong. “But you saved me back, so we’re all good.”

Tony was speechless. God, this kid was so brave and selfless and… he leant down and pulled the boy into a hug.

Peter hesitated, voice shocked. “There’s no door this time.”

Stark laughed a little. “No, no door. This one’s a hug. Thought you deserved one.”

Peter let go of the plant and hugged him back, smiling as he squeezed his hero back.

Tony let go after a moment and ruffled the kids hair, unable to help himself.

“Thanks, Pete.”

Peter looked amazed, eyes bright. “Uh… you’re welcome, Mr Stark.”

Tony picked up Peter’s bags from the floor and stood behind Peter’s wheelchair, pushing him out into the hallway.

“Let’s get you home, Spider-Man.”

(This as well as the first 3 chapters and all my works can be found on ff.net and Ao3 in the links below. PLease tell me what you think of this? Also thank you so uch to all those that have sent requests and prompts I am working on them and will have them posted as soon as they are done!)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11596725/chapters/26403609

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12584623/1/I-m-sorry-Tony

[technicallyimportanteagle-blog]

Go away, leave me alone

Part 1- Truth or Dare?: (x) Relationship- Pete Wentz x Fem!Reader Warnings- Slight self hatred, fluff (kinda), there’s this one weird part... you’ll know it when you see it Prompts- none

(y/h/t)- your hair type; i.e. curly, straight, etc.

“I’m going to bed,” you said as you rushed out of the living room and up the stairs to the guest bedroom. You didn’t have anything to sleep in so you just tore your pants off your legs. You curled up on the mattress and stifled a sob. You were so confused. You cursed yourself for being so socially awkward. You were so bad at reading situations and people, it was your one of your biggest insecurities.  You lay in silence for what felt like hours, though it was only about 15 minutes. Pete probably hated you now. You were so stupid! Your mind drifted to when you first met Pete...

~Ten Years Ago...~ It was your first day at a new school and you were at recess. You sat on one of the swings by yourself, watching the other kids play together. You felt someone tap on your shoulder and you jumped out of the swing. “Careful (Y/n/n), don’t hurt yourself,” a concerned and familiar voice said. You stood up and turned around, it was you older cousin, Patrick. “Trick,” you squealed a big smile plastered on your face, and you gave him a big hug. “Trick huh? Dude that’s hilarious,” another voice chimed in. Your smile immediately fell, and you let go of your cousin, your face turning a shade of pink. A dark haired boy was standing next to your cousin. “Shut up Pete,” Patrick laughed. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your little friend here,” Pete asked, winking at you. “This is my cousin, she’s kinda shy,” Pete explained. Nudging you to get you to speak. “I-I’m (Y/n),” you said, waving slightly.

On your way home from school, you walked with Patrick and Pete. “Look at the losers,” a rude voice sneered from behind you. The owner of the voice, a rude boy about two years older than you, bumped into you and knocked you over. You cried as you hit the pavement, skinning your knees. The boy laughed and kicked you over again. “Hey,” Pete yelled, shoving the bully. “What do you want Wentz,” he sneered, pushing Pete’s shoulders. Pete punched him in the nose, and the boy ran away crying. Patrick helped you up, but all you could do was stare at Pete, it was the coolest thing you had ever seen. “T-thanks Pete,” you said. “No problem shorty,” he said with a smile. ~End of Flashback~

Thoughts ran through your head at a hundred miles an hour, cutting through the memory. Why am I like this? Why do I always do this to myself? Why am I throwing a pity party? I’m pathetic. Shut up! Shut up! “Shut up! You ugly piece of shit!” Your thoughts became verbal screams as you grabbed at your head, unable to stop the flow of tears now. It was just too much to bare. You heard a set of footsteps come running up the stairs, and then there was a knock at the door. “Leave me alone,” you whimpered.

~Pete’s P.O.V~ “I’m going to bed,” she said quietly as she ran out of the living room. She hadn’t even bothered to grab her shirt and tank top up off the floor. I had glared at her back as she ran off. Feeling betrayed at how easily she had toyed with my emotions, and acted like she didn’t notice. She was naïve, sure, but there was no way in hell she didn’t notice my obvious erection. “What was that about,” Joe asked with a snort. Patrick just looked at me with a disapproving look. “How can the two of you be so dumb,” he asked. “What’s that supposed to mean,” I asked, “she just played with me, and then acted like it was nothing at all.” “Like you do all the time,” Andy said, like he was some philosopher. I didn’t have a response to that.  “You really think she-” Patrick started, when a scream interrupted him. “Shut up! You ugly piece of shit!” My heart dropped as the screams faded away. Without even thinking, I broke into a run. I ran up the stairs two at a time and slid to a stop in front of the guestroom. I heard crying, and I knocked lightly. “Leave me alone,” she whimpered. “(Y/n), it’s Pete. What’s wrong,” I asked, leaning against the door frame. All the emotions from earlier came rushing back to me. Unbidden, my mind wandered to the day I first realized I was in love with her.

~2 years ago...~ Patrick and I crept along the side of his house, water balloons in hand. I scanned the surroundings for any sign of (Y/n). We had gotten bored and decided to have a water balloon fight. “Do you see her,” Patrick whispered. I shook my head. We had felt bad at first for teaming up against her, she was only 16, the youngest out of our group, and she was a girl. Despite that, she had managed to pelt us with multiple water balloons, while we had only gotten one between the two of us. “Where the hell is she,” I whispered. Patrick just shrugged.

“You guys are really bad at whispering,” a voice said, it was (Y/n). We whirled around to where the voice had come from. She was hanging upside from a tree branch. Her (y/f/c) two-piece swimsuit struggling to cover her chest. She swung her hands up and caught the limb, hoisting herself into a sitting position as we ran towards the tree. She had already climbed up a few branches as we reached the tree. She laughed, reaching out for the nearest branch. She stretched too far though, and her hands slipped off the branch. “(Y/N)!” Patrick and I screamed in unison. She lost her balance, and with a scream she came crashing to the ground. I braced myself to catch her, but the momentum was too much, and we both fell to the ground. “Oh shit Pete, I’m so sorry,” she gushed, and she went to push herself off of me. It was like I saw her for the first time; her deep (y/e/c) eyes, her (y/h/t) (y/h/c), her awkward smile, or the way she blushed. She was beautiful, and I wanted to kiss her right then and there. “(Y/n)... Oh shit! My arm,” I said as the pain finally cleared through the cloud in my mind. “It looks broken,” Patrick laughed. I was in too much pain to glare at him. ~End of Flashback~

“What do you want P-Pete,” she sniffed. Her voice pulling me out of my trance. “Can I come in,” I asked. There was a hesitation, but I heard her shuffle, as she crawled out of the bed. She pulled the door open and I hate to admit it, but I was immediately turned on. She stood there in nothing but her bra and underwear, her hair stuck out in every direction from where she had been pulling on it. Her gorgeous (y/e/c) eyes were red, and she had tear stains running down her cheeks. Motioning for me to come in. I stepped inside the dark room. “I-I’m s-s-sorry P-Pete,” she sobbed, grabbing me in a tight hug. It felt nice having her pressed up against me, but I was painfully aware of our lack of clothing. “Shh, shh, it’s okay baby,” I said as I rubbed soothing circles. “I-I d-d-don’t know-w-w what I-I did to m-make you so-o mad-d,” she hiccuped, her crying slowing down a bit as I continued to rub her back. “You really don’t know?”

~Your P.O.V~ “You really don’t know,” he said in a low voice. You let go of him and took a couple steps back, just now becoming aware of the lack of clothing. He shut the door quietly, locking it behind him. ‘What the hell?’ you thought. You went to shake your head no, but you realized he wouldn’t be able to see you in the inky darkness that hung over the room. “N-no,” you stuttered, more out of embarrassment this time. You heard his bare feet step closer, and you instinctively backed away. “I thought you were supposed to be crazy smart,” he mused, taking another step forward, and you taking one backward. “Book smart? Yes. Street smart? Not so much,” you giggled slightly at a joke a friend of yours had made. You stopped abruptly due to the fact that you had backed into the bed. “Well let me spell it out for you princess,” he was directly in front of you again, “you drove me insane with that little stunt you pulled during truth or dare,” he whispered in your ear. You shivered at the sensation of his hot breath against your skin.

“Pete, stop please,” you asked softly, putting your hand on his chest to push him back. He froze, and you ducked your head to hide your face behind your hair. “(Y/n), I’m sorry, I thought that- well Patrick made it sound like, well that you liked me,” he backed away. “Pete, I’ve liked you since we were kids. Hell ever since I met you. I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” you explained. You reached out and put your hand on his cheek. He leaned into the touch, holding your hand in place. A tear slid down your cheek. “What’s that supposed to mean,” he asked, his voice becoming slightly louder, and shock clear in his tone. “This isn’t what you really want. It can’t be. I can’t be,” you said sweetly. Your voice cracked as more tears fell down your face. “You don’t know that,” he said defiantly, “Please. Give me a chance.” His other hand reached out and he touched your cheek. Thumb drifting down to trace the corner of your lips. You could feel yourself gravitating to him. The two of you were centimeters apart. “I... I shouldn’t. I...” you muttered. You tried to turn your head, but his hand was on your chin. He tilted your face back towards his. “I’ve wanted to do this for over two years now.” 

A/n: That was a real bitchy move for me to make wasn’t it ;)

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Little Peach, Chapter 8

Notes: As always, thanks to my amazing editor, Drucilla!

Not much to say here, so I'll wish you all a happy summer!

Summary: With the Lucky Hammer closer yet further out of his reach, Mickey decides to take on this challenge with the family way.

Mickey and his traveling companions would have loved to stop and gawk at the impressive interior of the palace, but they didn't come here to sight-see. (That and they had an unconscious rooster to carry.) They were taken to an elaborate guest room that could have fit twenty, but also didn't appear to have been used in ages, judging from a cobweb in the corner and a few hints of dust here and there. Mickey was surprised as it dawned on him that the Princess didn't have guests.

“Of course she doesn't!” Pete groused as he was forced to drag in extra futons. “She's a Princess, ya dope! She doesn't have time for tea parties or sleepovers! She's got a lot of stuff to do, thanks to the Oni King. She's never got a moment's rest.”

“That's awfully sad,” Mickey said, sitting atop a pillow. He was frustrated that the Princess wouldn't hand over the Lucky Hammer, yet he couldn't bring himself to outright hate her for it. A promise to family was an important thing, and hadn't Mickey set out on this quest because of his own family? “Sounds like she doesn't have much in the way of friends.” Neither did he, before setting out.

“Aw, she likes us plenty!” Goofy replied as he helped drag in the last futon, tripping over it in the process. “And we like her too!” Pete made a 'so-so' gesture with his hand as Goofy talked. “She's real nice to everyone,” Pete shrugged one shoulder, “And when you get to know the real her, she's a hoot and a half.” Pete spun a finger next to his head.

“You two ever think about going into show business?” Marsupilami said with a snort, dropping Panchito with an unfriendly OOF onto the last futon.

This seemed to rouse Panchito out of his stupor, as he sat up dizzily, holding his head. “Where am I?”

“In the palace!” Mickey jogged over to Panchito, a little worried. “Are you okay? You finally met the guy who saved you, then you were out like a snuffed candle.”

“Did I?” Panchito tilted his head in thought, trying to recall. His memory acted quick, it seemed, for his cheeks, flushed, his eyes rolled back -

“Oh, no you don't.” Marsupilami pointed at Panchito with his tail, grateful that Jose wasn't with them as he'd taken over the shift guarding the front of the palace. “Maurice, give him the wake up special.”

Maurice made an oddly cheerful grunt in response, then gently grabbed Panchito by the shirt and slapped him six times back and forth. “I'M AWAKE! I'M AWAKE! And I think I lost a tooth!”

“Good, now we can focus on the real problem.” Marsupilami used his hands and tail to gesture back to the one inch wonder. “The Princess didn't give him the Lucky Hammer, in case you failed to notice.”

“Does it look like she hands out gifts?” Pete crossed his arms, glaring down at all of them. “The Lucky Hammer is hidden in the palace, and only the Princess knows the location. Plenty of people have tried to search for it, but no one's come even close! Not even when they search every single stinking inch of this doggone massive place...” The more descriptors he used, the more his helpful advice turned into low muttering.

“She mentioned a promise to her family,” Mickey began to walk around in a small circle, trying to figure out his plan of action from here on out. “Maybe she can only use it if there's an emergency?”

“If that was true,” Marsupilami replied, using his hand and tail to scratch his head. “then she would have used it against the Oni King ages ago! Even a pint-sized Princess can become a powerhouse is she's a hundred feet tall. Why, anyone could take down the Oni King if they were just big enough. Whatever she promised her old man, it must have been important enough that he'd make the rules so strict.”

“He was awfully protective of his little girl,” Goofy answered. Though his face was youthful, he'd actually been guarding the palace for a very long time. “No one was ever good enough for her, and he didn't trust most folks around her. He meant well, but, shucks, sometimes I think he couldn't imagine her all grown-up and doin' grown-up things.”

Mickey stopped in his circle, glancing up at Goofy with a raised eyebrow. “Y'know, Goofy... it sounds like you know exactly what the promise was.”

Goofy hesitated, exchanging a nervous glance with Pete. Pete let out a mean laugh. “Oh, c'mon, let 'em know! Not like any of them have a chance. I tell you, the Oni King would surrender and commit seppuku before she ever considered one of them.”

“I am both very insulted and very confused,” Panchito remarked.

Goofy shrugged both shoulders – Pete always had an easy time making Goofy bow to his requests, no matter how mean spirited they were. “Well, fellas, the thing is...on his death bed, the Emperor made the Princess promise she could only show the location of the Lucky Hammer to one person. Until then, no one's even allowed to look at it, much less go aroun' using it for themselves.”

“Enough building up dramatic tension!” Marsupilami snapped, growing impatient. “My man Mickey needs this hammer! After all we've been through, it can't be that hard to be whatever the Princess needs! Who is the only person the Princess can show it to?”

“Her husband.”

Pete rather enjoyed the stunned silence and popped eyes that created, even though he had reacted the same way when he learned this information when he first began working for the Princess. “Her what?” Mickey asked loudly in disbelief.

“Her husband.” Goofy repeated.

“Her what?!”

“Her hus-”

“They get the idea!” Pete slapped a hand over Goofy's mouth to stop the comedy routine. “And the Princess has got some crazy standards, so don't go thinkin' you can just sweep her off her feet and take the hammer. Once the sun comes, I'm personally gunna boot you all out of here! Last thing we need is a bunch of eyesores taking up room where they don't belong. Our jobs are hard enough as is, without needing to babysit a bunch of weirdos!”

Mickey didn't hear any of the abuse, still suck on the word “husband”. Just like that, his heroic journey ended with a devastating blow that he never saw coming. Did his parents know about this restriction? If he had asked them and they gave such an answer, would Mickey had ignored it and gone through with his quest? Or would have common sense kicked in and stopped him before he took his first step? His entire body slumped, and his knees hit the floor, agony clear in his small features. Pluto whined, sniffing his master and trying to give him an encouraging lick – Mickey didn't even care that his clothes got wet and sloppy from saliva. All the dangers he'd faced, all the things he'd learned, all the panic and fear he'd given his dear mother... all of it was for nothing.

“Ah, geez.” Marsupilami couldn't even think of a decent wise-crack to lighten the mood. He sat down near Mickey, watching the typically cheerful mouse lose more color. “I'm sorry, Mickey. We all did our best, but none of us saw this coming. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.” Maurice moaned quietly in agreement, hands together in an apologetic gesture.

“What, we're giving up?” Panchito asked, rather surprised by this change in mood. “No, of course not! Mickey, where is that shining determination you won me over with? This is but another dutiful challenge in your quest, one of the stepping stones to becoming a worthy man!”

“How is getting married make me a worthy man in my father's eyes?” Mickey lifted his head, trying not to glare at his friend yet irked that Panchito couldn't see the obvious problems. “I was prepared to take down Oni, to travel across harsh terrain and face dangerous obstacles, but I can't get married just to make myself taller! I never even had friends before I left my house, and you think I can win over a girl easy-peasy? The Princess of all people?! Even if it wasn't difficult, I still wouldn't marry a girl so I could take advantage of her father's dying wish and use it for myself! That's not the act of a man, that's just...bein' a lousy jerk!”

A hush fell over the room, and Panchito had enough sense not to push the subject any further, looking down at his feet in shame. Pete snorted, not feeling sorry for anyone, and pushed Goofy out of his way so he could leave the sadsacks. Goofy watched him go, then scratched his head, feeling awkward about the whole thing. “Gwarsh, fellas, I'm real sorry. Maybe once the Princess does wind up gettin' hitched, she and her new husband will let you use the Lucky Hammer!”

Struggling to hold onto any spot of hope, Panchito jumped to his feet. “Your brilliance shines through, Sir Goofy! If Mickey cannot be her true love, we can help her find the right man!”

“She is the Princess,” Marsupilami tapped his fingers on his knees. “A girl like that must get a dozen suitors a day. Maybe all we have to do is wait it out until she chooses the right one.”

Goofy very slowly chose to look in the opposite direction, fiddling with his fingers, whistling innocently – though with his big teeth, it was difficult to carry the higher notes and he mostly wound up spitting. Mickey didn't think himself terribly brilliant, but even he could see a bad sign when it was clear in his face. “What's the problem now?”

“Aw, gee, well... I didn't mean to get your hopes up. But the Princess has been... mighty picky when it comes to who she wants to marry. We've had potential suitors come in almost every day since she got to be the right age for it... and every day she's said no.”

Marsupilami clicked his tongue. “Those must be some pretty high standards your girl's got.”

Again, Goofy's eyes wouldn't really meet anyone. No one outside of the palace knew about Minnie's unique obsession, and Clarabelle had threatened to gut anyone who dared leak it. “She's...got standards, all right.” With that, he was quick to try and change the subject to distract from their sorrows. “Why don't all of ya make yerselves comfy? I'll bring dinner when it's hot and ready! It's real nice havin' actual guests for a change. Pete can be awfully hard to get along with, and Jose will drop any conversation if he sees a pretty girl or boy across the way.”

Panchito was certainly distracted. “Wait a minute. Are you calling my sensei a skirt-chaser?”

Goofy would have defined it as skirt and pants chaser, but he had a feeling he'd said enough for one day, and quickly made for the exit. “See you at dinner!”

“HANG ON, I NEED CLARIFICATION ABOUT MY SENSEI!” Panchito bolted right after him, and Mickey was very sure he wouldn't see that silly rooster for a while.

With the nuttiest people out of the room, Mickey flopped onto his back, not caring how hard the tatami mat was. What was he supposed to do now? Go back home with his tail between his legs? Even if it wouldn't be humiliating, he'd made a vow not to return until he was a man Donald would call his son. Nothing had changed about him, far as Mickey knew, so it'd be breaking a promise, and samurai never broke their promises. Where did that leave him? What would he do with his life now? Was his only choice to actually wait until the Princess was married – a thought that made him physically ill, for unknown reasons – and hope her husband would allow Mickey to use the hammer? What if that took months? Years?

“Okay, so the goal's kaput.” Marsupilami broke the silence with a shrug. “That just means you get to find a new one. Me and Maurice? Our only goal has ever been survival, so I'd say we're doing a top-notch job. Set your new goal as low as possible, and you'll never be disappointed. High expectations is a sucker's game. For now?” He copied Mickey, flopping on his back, although at least he landed on a futon, as did Maurice. “We're staying in the guest room of the palace, for gosh sakes! We'll eat fancy food and live like kings until the sun rises. Who else can say that?”

“I guess,” Mickey mumbled, his spirits not rising any higher. Pluto quietly whined, laying near Mickey, upset that he couldn't offer his Master any help. As Marsupilami yammered on about how the scavenger life wasn't so bad, so long as you didn't mind sleeping on dirt and eating the occasional bug, Mickey felt one of his triple headaches coming on. He rubbed his head as best he could though he knew it wouldn't help, it'd just eventually fade away as it always did. Whenever he complained of them to his mother, she would always try some new herb or oil or other bad-smelling remedy to make it go away, and while it never worked, he always knew she put in as much effort as possible. Donald would complain about the stench, and throw out the ill antidote before it made Mickey nauseous – which Mickey also appreciated.

Mickey did want to be his father's son, so in that moment he tried to change gears in his mind. All day and all night, he had but one thought – if Donald was in this situation, what would he do?

~*~

At that moment, Donald was so hungry, he would have shoved all those foul-smelling remedies down his stomach with little complaint. Daisy's act of charity, which he still complained about, had made their food supply dwindle rapidly. They both knew they needed to stop in the closest village to restock if they had any hope of continuing their journey, and on this day with the sun starting to set, they spotted such a village after climbing over a small hill. It was a very tiny village, and looked like they could have entered and left it in fifteen minutes.

Of course they didn't know it was the same village Mickey had gone through days before, but they'd soon learn.

All of the villagers were outside, using their combined manpower to restore all that Maurice had destroyed. Donald tried to find the least busiest bees, not wanting to get in the way of their reconstruction, and settled on a gaggle of geese who much more interested in gabbing than sewing new curtains. “Excuse me,” Donald said as he approached the twin sisters and slouching male, “Where can we find lodging for the night?”

“Oh, not too far, good sir,” said the woman all in pink. “The inn around the corner is mostly fixed. Isn't that right, Abigail?”

“Mostly, mostly, Amelia,” the woman all in blue repeated, finding this funny. “All the rooms on top still need work, but all the ones below should be safe and sound.”

Daisy glanced around, worried about all the rampant destruction, and assumed the culprit was a deadly Oni. Oh, to think her dear baby was out in this awful world! “Have any of you seen a very small-”

“Don't bother, Daisy.” Donald roughly cut her off, not wanting Daisy to get her hopes up and have them crudely dashed. “No one will have seen him, he's too small to be seen! We'll stay the night, buy supplies, then head off in the morning.”

“Seen who?” asked the man, followed by a loud hiccup, after which he tried to adjust his torn green hat back onto its proper place. His breath made it clear he'd been drinking on the job, and it wasn't water. “Oh, we've seen a lot of crazy things, haven't we, my dears?”

“Indeed we have, Uncle Waldo!” Amelia tittered, covering her mouth with her hand. “And sometimes I still can't believe we we've seen!”

“It's because we saw it we can believe it, sister mine.” Amelia chided, wagging her finger back and forth. “Why, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes, I would've thought it was one of Uncle Waldo's... um... 'funny dreams'. Like that time with the pink elephants.”

“They were on parade, I tell ya!”

Donald and Daisy didn't have to look at each other to know what their spouse was thinking – the geese sounded nuts, but at the same time they worded their insanity so craftily one couldn't be curious. “What did you see?” Daisy asked.

“Aw, I bet it was just an Oni attack.” Donald huffed, unwilling to ever leave his bad mood behind. “And I've seen more than enough for one lifetime. There's nothing special about them anymore.”

Amelia smirked, leaning in because she'd finally found another person to share the tale, and it was difficult to gossip with people who already knew all the stories of their tiny town. “Have you ever seen an Oni attack stopped by a one-inch man?”

“One-inch!” Donald and Daisy yelped together, so taken aback they almost fell over. In her haste to find her boy, Daisy grabbed Amelia by her arms and began shaking her violently. “What did he look like? Was he all right? Did he miss his mommy?”

Donald managed to free Amelia by dragging his wife backwards. “What... what my wife means to say is... are you sure you saw that? It sounds pretty crazy.” Yet his heart was pounding wildly. Had Mickey actually come this way? Had they found proof Mickey was alive, at least for one moment in time? It hurt to believe, yet at the same time relief flooded through his body like a cooling mist. Mickey was too stubborn to die, too stubborn for his own good, just like Daisy.

Just like him, too, but he tried not to let that thought stay.

As Amelia smoothed down her sleeves, Abigail took over the narrator role. “Not too long ago, this wretched beast attacked out village. It was stronger than twenty men put together, no one could stop it! It destroyed everything and anything in its path, and we feared the entire village would be ruined! It was even using this poor long-tailed man as a weapon!”

“It was horrifying,” Uncle Wade added with a smelly burp, “Then funny, then back to horrifying, then funny again.”

“Just when all hope seemed lost...” Amelia resumed her role, hands spread out as she lightly mimed what she'd seen, “This very tiny person jumped into battle! Smash! Bang! Crack! Oh, it was amazing, I tell you, I only wish you could have seen it! And with one more flick of his wrist, the beast was defeated!”

The problem was with a grand story is that the longer it spreads, the more outlandish it becomes. While certain points were correct, there hadn't been any smash, bang, or crack, although you'd have a hard time convincing the gossipers there wasn't. Not knowing this, Donald and Daisy held each other's hands, their eyes wide with shock as they tried to imagine this story playing out in their minds, jaws hanging open in the wind.

“This part always makes me cry,” Abigail took over, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “I bet many a man would have slain the best right there and then, making sure it never hurt anyone else, but... not this one! He showed it compassion! He showed it mercy! They walked off together, like new friends in the sunset! I say, that's the real sign of a true man! And he was only one inch tall!”

“I say he's more the size of a peach pit.” Waldo then hiccuped three times in a row, until he lost his balance and fell flat on his tail. No one helped him up.

Daisy lost the strength in her legs, and let out a loud, consoled cry, letting Donald catch her as she sobbed into his chest. “Oh, he's all right! Thank all the gods and goddesses, he really is all right!”

Donald lightly patted Daisy on the back, smiling nervously as the geese gave his wife perplexed looks. “She's...such a sucker for sob stories.” He inhaled deeply, unsure how to feel himself. Of course it was good to know that Mickey was alive and well but – how could any of that story have a grain of truth to it? Mickey wasn't capable of taking down gigantic killer beasts! Yet why would this weird family make up such a ludicrous story? Logic battled logic, giving him a thudding migraine – it wasn't possible, yet it had been done! It couldn't be, but it was! “You really...saw all of that, start to finish?”

“It's as true as my feathers are white,” said Amelia, who had very bright white feathers. “It's a shame he left so soon. I wager the entire village would have thrown him a grand celebration for his heroic deed!”

“Or as grand as we could make it, given how much repairs cost.” Abigail admitted with a half-shrug.

“That's why we call him... hic!” Waldo hit his chest. “The Inch High – hic – The Inch High – hic – The Inch High Samurai!”

Daisy had a million questions to ask in detail, but right now the only thing she could get out was a happy “WAAAHAHAHAAAAA” which faintly reminded Donald of their days when she lamented about not having a baby. Donald himself was so conflicted about what he'd heard that he took the coward's way out and went into an unhealthy mix of denial and anger. “He's not a samurai,” he growled under his breath, trying to lead Daisy away to the inn. “He's just a boy who doesn't know what he's doing, and who is going to get himself killed!” And whose fault was that?, asked what little there was of his conscience. Not his, no! How was he supposed to know Mickey would run away when he was told that after eighteen years of being raised in a loving home his father didn't consider him a son at all?

His old injury began to throb, as if it was saying, You're kidding, right?

“Aw, phooey,” Donald muttered, grateful Daisy couldn't read minds, or she'd smack him six ways to Sunday if she heard any of it.

~*~

Mickey didn't sleep well that night, his usual headaches aside. Over and over he thought of the question, what would Donald do? His mind refused to cheat around the answer, since Donald had never been so small. The body meant nothing if he couldn't match Donald's fearless samurai soul. So Mickey went through endless scenarios, trying to envision Donald at this hopelessly lost problem, and how he would continue to move forward and never look back. With every passing minute, Mickey's own sadness began to fade away, evaporated by hope.

By the time the sun came up, Mickey found the answer to his question.

Goofy came by to drop off breakfast, but before any of his friends could chow down, Mickey raised his hand. “Sir Goofy, I need an audience with the Princess, pronto!”

The guard paused as he lowered the tray full of bowls with miso soup and white rice. “Hm? Well... she just finished up one of her meetings, she should still be in the throne room. C'mon, follow me!”

“What's the plan, Mickey?” Panchito asked as the small group followed Goofy, with Mickey taking a ride on Pluto.

“Are you going to beg and plead and cry for the Lucky Hammer?” Marsupilami asked, slurping from the bowl he snatched on the way out. “Dignity's overrated, if you ask me.” He tried to take Maurice's bowl as well, but a growl and a glare made him decide otherwise.

“I just need you all to trust me.” Mickey answered, his eyes forward and not moving an inch otherwise.

“We're with you all the way, Mickey!” Panchito pumped his fists, eyes glittering with anticipation for Mickey's heroic resolve. “No matter what! We'll follow you to the ends of the earth! Nothing can stop us!”

“Except if Jose looks at you for half a second,” Marsupilami quipped.

At the entrance to the throne room, Goofy knocked three times before announcing his presence. “Mickey and his pals would like an audience with you, Princess! Maybe to say thanks before they go?”

On the other side, Mickey could hear Minnie's strong, royal voice, which was still so strange to hear since he knew of her sweet, delicate tone. He also thought he heard her tell Clarabelle to burn something called a “Sir Sakura body pillow”, but since pillows were for heads, he assumed it was his imagination. “Enter.”

Goofy pushed the giant door open, smiling as he gestured for everyone to go inside. Minnie was sitting atop her throne, and joined at her side were Clarabelle, Pete, and Jose – THUD. “Panchito's out again.”  Marsupilami said as he caught the red-faced rooster.

Mickey ignored what ruined the dramatic entrance, bowing respectfully to the Princess as did his companions, with Maurice and Marsupilami using Panchito's body as a puppet and making him bow too. Minnie held one of her usual decorated fans in front of her mouth, making her expression difficult to read. “A good morning to you all,” she addressed them, watching Mickey with her steel-cold eyes. “I need not thanks for allowing my people to take refuge in my home. But if you wish to speak, I will hear you.”

“It would honor me more if you heard my request, Princess.” Mickey took a breath, and lifted his head. “If you will allow me and my friends... we wish to become guards of the palace!”