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polaroid15 · 3 years

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Guy in the Chair

Summary: Having a superhero for a best friend isn’t easy. But with the help of Mr. Stark, Ned things he might just be able to swing it.

Or, 5 times Ned was there for Peter and 1 time they were there for each other.

Read on Ao3 here.

-----

Ned hates funerals.

But mostly he hates seeing Peter in so much pain.

He sits beside his friend now, silent and relieved to be hearing him breathe evenly. The service for Ben had ended less than an hour ago. Overwhelmed, Peter had let Ned guide him away from the grave. They’re close enough to see May kneeling beside the freshly upturned dirt, her head in her hands, but far enough away that Peter no longer hyperventilates.

The cement bench they sit on is freezing. Snow comes up to their ankles. Both are shivering but too numb to move.

“Peter?”

Nothing.

Expecting it, Ned looks to his friend. Peter is curled in on himself, eyes open with frozen tear tracks running all the way down to his chin. He doesn’t give off any external cues that he’s heard Ned’s prompt, his sight unseeing.

“Peter?” he tries again, and when it still doesn’t elicit a response, he reaches out cold fingers to rest on Peter’s arm. Lightly, carefully, like he’s touching something fragile. “Hey man. You with me?”

Eyebrows creasing, Ned watches as a glimmer of coherence returns to Peter’s eyes. And with it, pain. Sharp and raw. Peter sucks in a long breath that rattles in his chest- like it’s the first real breath he’s taken in hours. It blows out in a puff of air that obscures the grave ahead of them.

“Peter.”

With some confusion, Peter swivels his head. He reaches a trembling hand to his face and uses his fingertips to feel the ice on his skin. “N-Ned?” he stammers. “I- when did we... I don’t remember coming over here.”

“It’s okay man. We came after the service.”

“May?”

“Over there. She’s okay.”

Breathing deep again, Peter’s eyes shine with new moisture. He buries his head deep into his elbow and leaves it there, his knuckles white where they clutch at his coat. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “God, I’m going crazy.”

Ned’s stomach hollows out. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I am,” Peter sniffs. “It’s cold.”

“It’s not that cold.”

Peter lifts his head and offers Ned a weak smile, though it falls fast. He hopes it isn’t permanent. “I just- I can’t believe he’s really gone.”

Ned bites his lip. He hadn’t known Peter when his parents had died, but he knows well enough from their sleepovers that he wakes up in cold sweats. He also knows that Peter has a tendency to blame himself for things that aren’t his fault, that he walks as if the world is on his shoulders.

And Peter had been there. In the alley. He had tried to keep Ben alive as he bled out.

And it didn't work. God, why couldn’t it have worked?

“Me either.”

Peter chokes on his next breath. Holds it. “What- what are we going to do without him?”

“Peter-”

“May can’t…I can’t-” Peter breaks off, gasping. “He can’t be gone.”

Words are impossible. Ned reaches deep within himself and whispers, “I’m sorry Peter. I’m so sorry.”

Peter’s lip wobbles. His eyes fill until there’s nowhere for the tears to go but out. At the same time they reach for each other, and Ned holds onto Peter as if it’s his sole purpose in this life. “It’s my fault Ned,” Peter sobs into his shoulder. “I couldn’t save him. It was me. He’s d-dead because of me.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“We had a fight,” Peter continues, delirious in his grief. “We had a fight and he died and I should’ve been able to save him.”

“It’s not your fault, man. What happened to Ben was terrible, but it wasn’t your fault, okay? He wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself. You know that.”

Peter tries to speak but is crying too hard for Ned to make out the words. So instead he pats Peter’s back and hugs him as hard as he can. He holds on. He whispers ‘he loved you’ and ‘it’s not your fault’ in between Peter’s sobs. He’s not sure how long it goes on for. He feels like a skipping record, his condolences an endless loop.

Eventually, Peter’s head lolls against Ned’s cheek. He stops crying. Stops everything. “I’m sorry,” he says. Then, more sure, “you’re a good friend, Ned. Thanks- thanks for being here with me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Always,” Ned says. It’s a promise, a vow. “No matter what.”

And with every nerve in his body, he means it.

------

Peter is Spider-Man.

In a way, Ned still feels the aftershocks of the surprise. It hits him over and over again whenever he sees Peter with a limp or a bruise, or a cut that he can tell from it’s scar Peter had stitched himself.

But it’s nothing in comparison to Homecoming.

What’s supposed to be a fun night turns into a full out adrenaline high with life or death stakes. Instead of dancing, he fires Peter’s web shooters and works tirelessly in the computer lab. Being the guy in the chair.

And then there’s silence. An awful, consuming silence.

Ned expects Peter to come back to the party, and when he doesn’t, he tries calling. All thirteen calls go straight to voicemail.

He tries again now.

“Hey, it’s Peter. I promise I’m not ignoring you. Uh, leave a message. Thanks.”

Failing to ignore his worry, Ned drags his aching feet home. His mom is working a late shift at the hospital so he unlocks the door to his apartment and flicks on the lights, rubbing at his face in exhaustion.

He barely makes it two steps before he hears it.

A thud, like something heavy hitting hardwood.

Ned grabs the item closest to him, an umbrella propped up in the corner by the door and walks with caution towards his bedroom where the noise came from. Not for the first time that night, his heart beats viciously in his chest. Did Liz’s dad figure out he was helping Peter? Did the guy from the bus lot follow him home?

“Hello?” he calls, wincing when his voice shakes. He holds the umbrella a little tighter, the thin metal sticks digging into his palm. “Who- who’s there?”

When there’s no answer he pauses outside his door and cranes for clues. Hearing nothing, he braces himself before kicking open the door. The first thing he sees is his open window, and then-

“Oh my God! Peter!”

His friend is slumped under the glass, pale and covered in sweat and blood. Though his eyes are half lidded, he smiles at Ned when he sees him. “Why’re you holding an umbrella?” he slurs.

Ned dips his head to look at the makeshift weapon before tossing it to the side. His hands are shaking horribly. “I thought- I thought someone broke in!”

“Well technically,” Peter coughs, wincing, “I did break in.”

“It’s different,” Ned says, his legs like jelly as he stumbles forward. He kneels beside Peter and holds his hands out gingerly, sure whatever part of Peter he touches will shatter. “What the hell happened to you?”

Peter frowns. There’s too much blood. “I crashed Mr. Stark’s plane,” he says.

“What?”

“Liz’s dad was trying to steal it. I stopped him though.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I get hurt all the time.”

“Not like this,” Ned argues, and Peter’s eyes darken.

“I’m okay,” he whispers.

Grinding his nails into his knees, Ned shakes his head. Peter hasn’t moved since he found him, his arms curled tightly around his chest. “Why’d you come here?”

Gaping, Peter pales further. “Oh. I didn’t... I’m sorry-”

“No,” Ned says quickly. “Not like that. I mean, isn’t Mr. Stark supposed to help you with stuff like this?”

Peter closes his eyes, his face shadowed. “Mr. Stark doesn’t want to see me anymore. He ended things, remember?”

“But if he knew you were hurt-”

“Ned.”

“You’re bleeding really bad. I don’t know how to help you.”

Peter smiles again, but it’s sad. Broken, like the day of Ben’s funeral. It makes Ned feel sick. “Can I use your shower?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Definitely. I’m covered in sand and ash and concrete-” Peter shudders, eyes becoming distant for a moment. “Please?”

“Right. Of course, man. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks.”

Peter tries to stand but needs Ned’s help in the end. They limp to the bathroom together and Ned helps Peter pull the top half of his suit off because Peter can’t lift his arms above his head. Peter is quiet during the process, but Ned doesn’t miss the way he sways and bites his lip.

When the suit is finally stripped away, Ned is sure he’ll have nightmares of for the rest of his life. Impossibly dark bruising covers nearly every inch of his friend’s skin, puncture marks still leaking blood and surrounded by countless smaller cuts and scrapes. He notices that Peter doesn’t look in the mirror. He doesn’t even look down, his hands shaking as he stares in determination at the opposite wall.

It’s only now that Ned truly understands the weight of what Peter is taking on. That having superpowers comes with a cost.

I just wanted to be like you, Peter had told Mr. Stark.

And I want you to be safe, thinks Ned, aching.

“Peter,” he whispers. He feels strangely detached from his body, as if he’s viewing the massacre through someone else’s eyes. “This- this is really bad. Like, hospital bad.”

Peter doesn’t argue, which Ned knows is a bad sign. Instead, his eyes glisten as if he’s about to cry. “I heal fast.”

“But-”

“I’m going to shower now.”

“Peter.”

“Ned please. I know you mean well, but- but I can’t think about it right now, okay? I just need to shower and then I’ll be okay.”

Ned stills. Swallows. Then, with great reluctance, he nods. “Okay.”

Looking weak with relief, Peter gives him a watery smile. When he speaks, his voice cracks. “Thanks man. I- I really owe you one.”

“It’s nothing. Guy in the chair, remember?”

“Thanks Ned.”

After their handshake, Ned leaves. It takes a minute of standing by the bathroom door and breathing intently through his nose to get his heart to calm. When it does, his pocket vibrates. He pulls out his phone, expecting it to be his mom.

Instead, it’s an unknown number.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ned answers, making sure to move away from the bathroom. “Hello?”

There’s staticy silence. Then, heavy breathing. “Is this Peter’s friend?”

“Who’s this?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. This is Happy Hogan. You called me earlier.”

An unexpected surge of anger makes his ears hot. Hand tightening around the phone, Ned doesn’t try to keep the annoyance from his voice. “What do you want?”

Happy sighs. “Peter. Have you seen him?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Now. He’s at my apartment.”

More silence. Ned paces.

“How is he?” Happy asks finally.

“Why do you care?” Ned snaps. His heart is beating fast again. He can hear it in the base of his eardrums. “I tried to warn you earlier and you hung up on me.”

“Kid, listen-”

“He’s not okay,” Ned interrupts. “He’s hurt really bad. And he wouldn’t be if you had just listened.”

Ned expects deflection, but Happy’s words surprise him with their concern. “Wait. Peter’s hurt?”

It leaches his anger. “Yeah.”

“Can I talk to him?”

Ned opens his mouth to respond but pauses at the sound of a muffled conversation on the other end of the line. There’s a short struggle and then a new voice fills his ears. One that he’s more than familiar with.

“Ted, right?” Tony Stark asks. “Put Peter on the phone. Pronto. ASAP.”

“I- I-”

“He’s with you, isn’t he?” the man urges.

“I- yes.”

“Well then?”

Ned, despite how freaking cool it is to be talking to Iron Man, can’t help but feel a streak of protectiveness for his friend. “He didn’t call you for a reason.”

Tony is quiet, which Ned doesn’t expect. He plows on. “He thinks you don’t care. And maybe you don’t. But you can’t just choose when you want to help him. He’s here and he’s hurt, and I’m just about the least qualified person to be helping him. There’s blood on my floor and my mom is going to freak out-”

“Take a breath kid,” Tony interjects, his voice pinched. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Just let me talk to him.”

“He’s in the shower.”

“We’ll come pick him up, then. What’s your address?”

Ned closes his eyes, feeling two seconds away from a breakdown. He should be excited, but instead he just feels hollow. How did this become my life?

He rattles off his address and hangs up before Tony can respond. Then he sits on his floor beside Peter’s blood and cries silently into his hands.

-------

Ned tries to talk to Peter about Homecoming, but his friend just defects. Ned tries not to let it bother him.

But it does.

Physically, Peter recovers quickly. The ugly cuts and bruises disappear after the weekend, but the weariness that accompanies them never really leaves. The dark circles under Peter’s eyes get worse everyday and it’s harder to get a genuine smile out of his friend.

It all comes to a head on Wednesday.

They’re in the hall grabbing textbooks from their lockers between classes. Peter has been especially quiet today and Ned has done his best not to say anything about it. He’s reaching for his physics binder when it happens.

A loud crash, the sound of metal hitting the floor. Heart jumping, Ned spins to see a table flipped on its side beside a group of snickering kids. He exhales, shaking his head. “Man, that scared me.” He turns to Peter to laugh it off and freezes, insides turning to ice.

“Peter?”

His friend has lost all the color in his face, his eyes wide, unblinking, and staring out at nothing. When he doesn’t respond Ned takes a step forward to nudge his arm and Peter flinches back as if burned, hitting one of their classmates who scowls and pushes him off.

Peter barely manages to catch himself, his chest heaving like he’s just finished running a marathon. More careful this time, Ned grabs Peter’s elbow and steers him away from the hall and towards the bathroom. When they get there Peter detaches himself from Ned’s grip and stumbles until he hits the wall, sliding down to curl into a ball on the dirty tile. Now that it’s quieter, Ned can hear just how strained his breathing is.

“Peter?” he asks softly, squatting down to his level. “You’re scaring me man. What’s going on?”

Peter looks up at him helplessly, clutching at his chest as he pales further. “S-sorry. Just- ah. Gimme a minute.”

Ned opens his mouth to argue but closes it decidedly. The door to the bathroom swings open behind them and Ned shoos the freshman who appears away with his hands.

Peter’s upbeat ringtone cuts through the tension. Obviously not coordinated enough to answer, Ned helps Peter pull it out of his pocket and stills at the contact.

“It’s Mr. Stark,” Ned says in awe. “What- what do I do?”

“Don’ answer it-”

But his thumb is already on the green. He gives Peter a panicked look of apology before yanking the device up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Ted? Why do you have Peter’s phone?”

“It’s Ned. And he- he can’t really talk right now.”

Tony curses. “Is he with you? His watch sent me a spike in his vitals. Don’t tell me he’s actively bleeding out.”

Peter must hear what he’s saying because he groans, his breathing becoming increasingly laboured. He sticks his head between his knees and digs his knuckles into the tile until tiny cracks appear under the pressure.

“He’s not bleeding out,” Ned assures. “He’s- well, I don’t really know what’s happening. He said he can’t breathe.”

“Damn it. Damn it. Okay. He’s having a panic attack. Put me on speaker.”

“But-”

“Now, Ned!”

Gulping, Ned obliges. He holds out the phone between himself and Peter like some sort of offering and feels some distant part of him relax as Tony takes control.

“Pete?” Tony asks, his voice sharp and clear. “Focus on my voice kiddo. Alright? Imagine that I’m there with you.”

“Mr. St-Stark-’

“Shh, kiddo. It’s okay. I’m going to help you breathe. I need you to tell me five things you can see. Can you do that?”

Eyes gaining some clarity, Ned watches them wander. “Uh, Ned. The phone. The- the sinks. A mirror. And- and, uh. Paper towel.”

“Bathroom. Classy. Alright, now four things you can touch.”

“Ground. Wall. C-clothes. Backpack.”

“Good, kiddo. You’re doing so well. Keep breathing. Three things you can hear?”

“You. Ned. Kids outside.”

With every answer, the tension in Tony’s own voice seems to ease. For some reason, it softens some of the resentment Ned’s been holding against the man ever since the ferry incident. He continues with urgency. “Two things you can smell?”

“Soap. Sweat.”

“Good. And one thing you can taste?”

Peter exhales, long and slow. He closes his eyes. “Spearmint.”

“That’s great,” Tony encourages. “Feeling any better?”

At this, Peter’s face scrunches up as if he’s about to start crying. Instead, he relaxes more fully against the wall and reaches up to wipe his eyes. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. That’s better. I’m really sorry-”

“Nope,” Tony interrupts. “Gonna stop you right there kid. We’ll talk in person. I can be there in twenty.”

“What?” Peter stalls, eyebrows drawing together. “I have class.”

“Not anymore. See you soon. Ned, can I talk to you real quick?”

Another shot of adrenaline spiking through him, Ned fumbles with the phone until it’s off speaker and pushes it up against his face, though he knows full well Peter will still be able to hear. “Yeah Mr. Stark?”

A short pause. “Has this happened before?”

“Not at school.”

“And not at school?”

Peter looks down at his shoes. Ned frowns. “I don’t know.”

Tony sighs. “Thanks for watching out for him. Do you know what triggered it?”

“Um. A table got flipped over. It was really loud.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. Damn it. Can you stay with him until I get there? Give him water and make sure he doesn’t fall asleep. You got that?”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course.”

He doesn’t get a response, the line going dead. He pulls it away in disbelief and sets it on the floor. Peter smirks weakly at him from where he’s slumped against the wall. “It’s okay,” he mumbles. “He hangs up on everyone.”

------

For a while, it gets better.

“Ned! Oh my God- MJ said yes! I’m freaking out man!”

Stomach dropping with excitement, Ned spins a full 360 in his room, hands reaching up to his hair. “No freaking way! I told you!”

Peter’s excited rambling continues through his phone. It makes Ned’s heart soar. “What do I do? Where do I take her? The movies? The park?”

“Swinging through New York,” Ned offers with a smile, and Peter laughs.

“No, seriously. It needs to be perfect.”

“Laser tag?”

“Don’t forget that I’m broke, man.”

“How about the Pride Parade? That’s happening this weekend. Seems like her kind of thing.”

Peter pauses, warmth filling the other end of the line. “That’s perfect! God, you’re a genius. Thanks man!”

“You owe me,” he teases.

“I so do. We still on for the death star 2.0 tonight?”

“Wise is Yoda the most?”

Peter laughs again. It’s nice. “Right. See you soon.”

“See you.”

When Ned hangs up, tears bite at his eyes.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s heard Peter so happy.

--------

Of course, it doesn’t last long.

Ned gets the text during band practice.

It’s from Peter and the empty seat next to him feels more pronounced. He almost ignores it, feeling, despite reason, a deep bitterness for his loneliness. But the message is short.

Help.

Ned nearly tilts out of his chair, his mouth adopting a strange metallic quality and his stomach dropping down to his toes. Before he can even get his shaking hands to cooperate another message lights his screen.

Bleachers.

Ned stands before he can process how strange it must look. His teacher, Miss Gregerson, raises her pencil thin eyebrows. “Ned? What is it?”

“Bathroom,” he blurts, and parts the music stands blocking his exit before she can say another word. He hears laughter follow him but can’t find it within himself to care, his heart beating loud in his ears as he jogs through the empty hallways. Peter needs you. Something is wrong.

He had thought having a best friend for a superhero would be cool. But the longer the time stretches, the more Ned realizes how much sleep he’s been losing over his friend’s safety.

Please don’t be dying.

Ned bursts through the back doors and trips his way down the hill to the track. The yard is empty, filtered with pink and orange light from the sinking sun. It’s warm and the air is still, but the deep sense of foreboding doesn’t leave him.

“Peter?” he calls, even though the bleachers are distant and his throat is closing with fear. He walks faster and it’s only when his feet hit the red dirt of the track that he sees Peter’s hunched form. He’s sitting on the lowest step of the bleacher, his face pinched and the edges of his suit showing from his open backpack. He’s pale and covered in sweat, and when he sees Ned, he sags, his eyes fluttering with what can only be a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

“Peter,” Ned repeats, skidding to his friend’s side. His hands hover, unsure again what to do or how to help. Assess the problem, his mind supplies. Find out what’s hurt.

It doesn’t take long. He follows Peter’s tense posture to his hand, which is clamped down hard over his side. His skin is painted red underneath, the material of his dark shirt shining in the fading light. There’s a cut on his temple that bleeds too, and Ned notices how hard Peter is trying to concentrate on his form, his eyes seeming incapable of adjusting.

“Hey man,” he croaks.

“Oh my God,” Ned breathes. His whole body is shaking now. Weak. Because he’s not equipped for this. “What happened?”

Peter struggles to process his question, blinking heavy and biting hard on his bottom lip. Then he swallows, sways, and musters a weak smile. “Stabbed. Long knife.”

When Peter falls to the side, Ned has to lunge to catch him, supporting his entire weight against his body. The new position allows him to see the blood that’s been pooling on the metal where Peter’s been sitting. A distant part of his brain wonders if the stain it’ll leave will be permanent.

“You need to go to a hospital,” Ned says. Peter’s head is pressed hard into his rib cage. They’re both shaking, their breaths uneven and loud.

“No,” Peter says. “You can help.”

“I can’t.”

“Please.”

It’s desperate. More desperate than Ned’s ever heard his friend. Even after Homecoming. “Peter-” he starts, but there’s no words to convey the weight in his chest.

“We can fix this,” Peter says. “We can fix it.”

“You’re bleeding too much.”

“I just need some help.” Peter lifts himself away with Ned with trembling arms. He’s even more pale, his skin close to translucent. He struggles with the side pocket on his backpack before revealing a small sewing kit. He transfers it into Ned’s palm where it leaves a thick smudge of red. He stares at it for a long time and won’t realize until much later that he’s in shock.

“What?” he stutters, transfixed by how much blood is on the sewing kit.

“My hands... my hands are shaking too much to thread the needle.”

Ned stares. He’s numb.

“Ned?” Peter prompts. He reaches out a hand and bracelets Ned’s wrist in his blood. “Can you- can you thread the needle for me?” he pauses, and almost sheepishly, he smiles. “I need my guy in the chair.”

It’s like a damn breaking. Ned snaps back into awareness, sad, angry, and unable to fully comprehend why. Guy in the chair.

“I’ll help you,” he says, “but not in the way you want.”

Before Peter can protest, Ned pulls out his phone. He dials in the number and tries to ignore the way Peter’s chest falls, or how a tear cuts a line through the grime on his face.

“Mr. Stark?” he asks when the line connects. “I need your help.”

In the background, Ned can already hear the mechanical thrum of what can only be a suit being activated. Mr. Stark doesn’t question it. He doesn’t waste time. “I’ll be there in three minutes,” he says, and then the line disconnects.

Peter blinks slow. His lip trembles. “I wish you didn’t do that,” he says.

And then he collapses.

Ned cries out as he catches him. His shirt will be ruined. Peter’s head lolls sickeningly against his neck, his arms going limp at his sides. Acting on instinct alone, Ned reaches to put pressure over the still bleeding wound in Peter’s side. It’s warm and he gags. His eyes burn with tears.

“P-Peter?” he cries, but Peter remains still against him. He wonders if this is how Peter had felt when Ben had died, and for the first time understands the guilt Peter had pinned on himself. “Wake up, man. Mr. Stark is coming. He’s going to- he’s going to help.”

But Peter doesn’t wake up. He doesn’t even twitch until Mr. Stark hits the dirt hard beside them, his suit retracting from his face to reveal a look of complete terror. It catches Ned off guard, but not as much as the way Mr. Stark gently maneuvers Peter out of Ned’s arms and into his own lap.

“Hey Underoos,” Mr. Stark says. His voice is soft but urgent. He taps on Peter’s face and brushes back his hair. “This isn’t a good look, kiddo.”

Ned is frozen. Stuck. He feels the tacky wetness of blood on his hands and is unable to look at them.

“Pete,” Mr. Stark continues, louder this time. “Wake up. That’s an order.”

Ned holds his breath as Peter’s eyes open to slits. They’re hazy, confused, but his lips manage to quirk up into a smile that betrays the pain in his eyes. “Tony,” he whispers.

Mr. Stark sags and Ned can practically see the relief leak out of him. He plays with Peter’s hair, his free hand pressed down hard against the worst of the bleeding. “You never do things halfway, do you kid?” he asks with a smile that even Ned can tell is for Peter’s benefit alone. “If it weren’t for Ned, you’d be six feet under right about now.”

Peter’s eyes drift to find Ned. His smile widens when they connect. “He’s my guy in the chair,” he slurs.

Tony hugs Peter tighter and Ned is struck just how paternal the hero is acting. Like Peter is the most important thing in the world. A lot has changed since Homecoming, he realizes. “Let’s get you some help, buddy. You up for a flight?”

But Peter doesn’t seem to hear. His eyes are still glued to Ned. He doesn’t speak, but Ned understands anyway.

Tony stands, bringing Peter up with him, and Peter goes limp once more. Ned doesn’t miss the way Tony’s breath hitches or the urgency in his movements. He stops before he takes off, regarding Ned with a look of gratitude. “Happy is on his way to pick you up. Wait here for him, okay?”

Ned can only nod, and when they both disappear into the air, he sinks to the ground. It takes hours for the blood on his hands to wash off, and when he finally makes it to Peter’s room in medbay, he finds Tony Stark with his head pillowed on Peter’s thigh. They’re both sleeping, their arms linked.

And for the first time, it all makes sense.

------

It’s been two weeks since the blip’s reversal.

They’re back at school. Ned shuffles awkwardly at his locker, uncomfortable, like his skin is on too tight. Graduation pictures of his classmates hang on the wall.

Five years.

A deep, unrelenting sadness pulls at his heart. He should be happy to be back, but he’s not. Not really. His little sister, who what seems like yesterday was half his height, now reaches his chin. The calendar in his room is useless.

So much time.

Across the hall, he sees Peter. It calms the sharp edges of his anxiety and as if mirroring his own relief, he sees his friend’s shoulders lose their tension. Ned begins walking towards him and Peter drifts too. It’s slow, cautious, like everything will vaporize in a moment if they move too fast.

But at last, they meet. And in the middle of the hall, surrounded by faces Ned no longer recognizes, they hug. Peter’s grip is strong. Almost bruising. It reminds Ned of Ben’s funeral and the heaviness in his chest doubles.

Peter sniffs. He trembles like he’s cold.

“Are you okay?” Ned whispers in his ear.

Peter is quiet. Ned can hear his measured breathing, an exercise taught to him by Mr. Stark shortly after the incident in the school bathroom.

Mr. Stark, who had died to save them all.

“Not yet,” Peter says after some time. They still haven’t pulled apart. “I just- I really miss him, Ned.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Peter’s fingers curl into his hoodie. People are staring at them, and for the first time in his life, Ned can’t bring himself to care.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Peter says, and Ned feels his eyes sting.

Five long years.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”

Finally, Peter pulls away. He wipes his sleeve across his cheekbones and takes in a rattling breath. “Wanna help me with my web shooters after school? May’s making lasagna. Pepper and Morgan are coming over, too.”

Ned smiles. Because after all the injuries he’s seen Peter sustain over the years, he’s seen them all heal too.

He’ll heal.

They both will.

“That sounds great, man.”

After a particularly sloppy handshakes, they walk to class with their shoulders bumping.

And though it may just be a trick of the light, Ned swears he sees Mr. Stark standing in the crowd of students, a wide smile on his face as he looks at them.

And just like Ben, Ned knows that Peter has Tony forever.

#spider man #peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #irondad fic #peter & ned #hurt/comfort #hurt peter parker #peter parker whump #protective ned leeds #protective tony stark

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whatsortofschoolisthis · 3 years

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Ismelda to everyone but Beatrice: I'm not your friend; I'll break your kneecaps for a nickel.

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Chester: You should take off your hat when you’re inside.

Sean: *removes his hat to reveal another, smaller hat* I can do this 14 more times.

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Ben: I’m Gen X, right?

Jae: You’re not Gen X, you’re a problem.

Ben: Fuck you too Kim.

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Sean: Hey people who know astrology shit, I’ve been having a lot of feelings lately. Any planets I can blame that on?

Professor Trelawney, not missing a beat: Earth.

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Merula: This is terrible! Why did you guys invite me?

Bryn: We didn’t. You invited yourself.

Rowan: No one wants you here!

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Hecate: Your avoidance of swearing is adorable.

Liz: I say “fork” when I get really irritated.

Penny: See? Adorable.

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R: Who are you?

Circle of Khanna: You killed our friend!

R: Do any of you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down?!

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Sean: I put the fires out!

Andre: You made them worse!

Sean: Worse? Or better?

Andre: OBVIOUSLY IT’S WORSE SEAN!

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Madam Pince: You have a lot of nerve showing your face around here.

Tonks: You have a lot of nerve being alive!

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Tonks: Uh oh. How are we going to gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss our way out of this one, Professor Sprout?

Professor Sprout: Please, please just speak like a normal person, Miss Tonk’s.

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Bill: Go ahead and hex me. This isn’t even my favorite shirt.

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Tulip: Talbott Winger, you should apologize to Merula Snyde for your mean, uncalled for, and accurate statements.

Talbott: Fine.

Talbott, to Merula: Unfuck you or whatever.

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Tonks: You call it “really bad at darts”, I call it freestyle acupuncture.

Rowan: Please stop.

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Ben: So apparently the “bad vibes” I’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.

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Bryn: What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Merula: You could start with a “good morning”.

Bryn: Good morning. What the fuck is wrong with you?!

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Madam Rakepick: Miss Snyde, could I speak with you for a moment? And, Ames children, you come too.

Merula: Come along then, Afterthoughts.

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Jae: Yearning is nice, but unlike you all, I actually get laid

Charlie: Sounds fake but okay.

Jae: You’re supposed to be my FRIEND Charlie what the fu-

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Sean, the first time Merula tries to bully the siblings: Why’s she making that funny noise?

Hecate: Maybe she’s dying?

Bryn: Oh for the love of- She’s English you two, that’s the way they talk.

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Barnaby: Are you trying to get punched with my legs?

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Professor Snape: On Monday morning, several of our Year 7′s will face their N.E.W.T.S. Now, I know how daunting these examinations can be, so if anyone is feeling anxious or worried, or even if you just want to chat, please, please, do not come crying to me.

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Hecate in the hospital wing after a seizure: Am I dead? Is this my wake? Am I in hell?

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Skye: You really push all my buttons!

Orion: And yet I haven’t found mute.

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Hecate: I don’t need sleep. I need answers.

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Andre: Remember when you didn’t try to solve all your problems with murder?

Sean: Let’s not romanticize the past.

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female-overlord-3 · 3 years

Text

Not Possible

My anti-maria fic where we get Alex being there when Maria declares it's Michael in that coffin which doesn't end well for her 😊 mentions of 2x06 events so please respect the warning and take care of yourself 💛 don't like just scroll past! It's that easy!

They've been going back and forth for a good 10 minutes until Maria voices her thoughts.

"I think- god I'm so sorry but I think it's Michael." She's teary eyed and her voice cracks as she continues. "He's the only one I haven't seen alive."

It goes quiet as the possibility starts to stick to some of their minds while Alex just tries to choke back a laugh but it can be heard when he speaks. "Not possible."

The only one that gives him a disbelieving look is Maria. Everyone else sighs in relief.

"Alex I know-"

"Actually you don't." His voice has hardened as he stares her down. "You said I was angry about covering up another murder but if it was Michaels there would be no possible way I could ever be okay with it. If Michael was murdered I'd find who did it and burn them then the world down."

He gets up and leaves, stopping at the door to look at Maria one last time.

"I also wouldn't be there either. So no, Michael isn't the one who dies." Alex goes so tense it looks like he'll snap before forcing himself to relax. "I was able to somehow forgive you for that night and nearly everything else, but not this, not realizing you'd be okay with him dying."

Then he's gone.

Maria looks lost as she tries to find support or comfort from anyone else but there's none.

Now it's her that everyone is looking at in disbelief.

"Do you really think we wouldn't think of a way to bring Michael back? That we'd just be okay with him dying?"

Isobel reaches out with her powers because she needs to know.

"Oh god you really do. He's my brother Deluca! How could I ever be okay with it?"

"Maria we'd be devastated. He's- all three of us share a connection and losing that would be- I never want to feel like that again." Max and Isobel link hands, both already still on edge from Max almost dying again.

"I'm not losing Michael after everything. We would do anything for him just like he's always done for us."

Isobel and Max walk out after that.

Kyle just scoffs and follows them, his words quiet but clear as he passes her.

"Like Alex or anyone who actually cared about him would ever let that happen."

Liz was the only one left but Maria knew she would leave too.

"I would find a way Maria. We all would for Mikey." Liz shakes her head as she fights back tears. "I thought you cared about him, that you understood what it felt like back then so I pushed you to be with him. That you would think a group who has brought 2 people back to life already wouldn't do it again."

"Liz please I-"

"You know why I breathed a sigh of relief when Alex said it wasn't possible? Because the second he said that I knew he's right. Alex knows it's not possible because he'd either make sure it didn't happen or he'd join Michael. Maria he- he'd rather join Michael then be apart from him! That you would even consider Michael possibly being dead is kind of insane."

Tears spill down both their eyes as Maria continues to search for any kind of sympathy or understanding.

"It was just- it seemed the only logical explanation."

"You're only accounting for Me, Max, Isobel, Kyle, and Alex but there is an infinitely larger amount of people both in this town and in general. It could be anyone's funeral."

Maria starts to plead for her not to go but Liz can't even stomach being in the same room anymore.

"Isobel was able to connect to whatever it was you've been seeing and she's able to see them clearly with more control. Thank you for letting us know about it but you can rest now and stop destroying yourself, it seems you've taken it too far again."

Liz finally leaves and hopes Maria realizes how wrong she is about everything.

Maria just stays there all alone in denial but even that starts to crumble to nothing as she's left to reflect on her own many mistakes and faults that she's made in the last two years.

Alex is parked in front of Michael's airstream but stands at the hood of his car. He knows Michael is fine but just the idea that he'd ever- he just wants to check for reassurance.

Read the rest on Ao3!

#the damn thing didn't save the recent updates #anti maria deluca #maria being held accountable #please and thank you #rnm spoilers #michael guerin #alex manes #malex #roswell nm #my fic #spite post #mentions of 2x06

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mcu-fan-fics-blog · 3 years

Text

The Helping Hand

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Word Count: 3000 approx

A/N: Sorry for the wait I've been a little busy the last couple of weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Next chapter will be Civil war I hope to upload again soon. In the mean time if you have some ideas or thoughts send them my way.

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.7

Chapter 8: Time and Irony Walk Hand in Hand

Ch.9

"Well this is nice…" You say as Natasha drags you along. You see currently you and Natasha are quote on quote shaking a tail. Whatever that means… "Shut up and keep moving." You stop moving and pull your arm away. "Stop Nat we've gone far enough. It was probably just a coincidence we didn't really get that far from the food truck." Finally taking the time to catch your breath. "I think we should get back to the compound. Tony and Bruce must be waiting for me." You say looking around for a cab lucky for you one stopped right before you and you got in.

The ride back to the Compound was quiet. When she's about to make her way in, you stop her. "Nat… I know that didn't go the way either of us wanted it to go but I still had fun. And again what I'm trying to say is that I would like to do things your way, candlelit, waiters, and wine. If you want to of course." You fidget with your fingers waiting for her response. "Y/n I would love to… but I like the way you do things. You're not the Wine and Dine type... I like that." She mentions as she walks back in. You quickly follow suit after she makes a comment about your blatant staring.

Once you stop on the elevator FRIDAY greets you. Telling you that Tony and Bruce are waiting for you in the lab. "Well Nat this is goodbye for now, see you around." You say stepping off of the elevator. Suddenly this weight comes crashing down on you. Remembering what Bruce told you the worry in his eyes. Dread fills your body when you're walking towards the lab. "Guys I'm back… anything good for me?" You state casually trying your hardest not to sound hopeful. "Well yes and no…" Tony states putting the tablet down. "I'm going to be honest with you… your heart is trashed, absolute garbage."

"Way to make a girl feel special." You say with a dry laugh. "But I think we can build something. And with my arc reactor technology we can make it work." He states tapping at his chest. This is where Bruce jumps in "with the help of Dr. Cho we could try and make a new cradle… and use it for its intended purpose this time around. Making a heart powered by the arc reactor." You nod taking all the information in. "Well this is good right? How long would this take." This is where both Tony and Bruce go quiet. "Y/n the process is relatively easy, what's difficult is getting our hands on the Vibranium."

"Which is basically a non existent problem at this point… Bruce is just paranoid, my contact will pan out you'll see." Tony jumps back in clearly annoyed that Bruce was disclosing such trivial issues. "Even if we do get the Vibranium Y/n there's something we don't know… If you'll even survive the transplant." Your eyes meet his and he elaborates. "Your body might not be strong enough to handle it." Suddenly the inevitability of the situation dawns upon you. "Well I'm still doing it… I'm dying anyways. What difference does it make if it's a month from now or five. I'm doing it."

"Well, let not be hasty alright. We can still look for other alternatives." Bruce tries to argue. "Look, this is Y/n's decision. She's old enough to make her own decisions. Plus the more we work on this the higher survival chances are." Tony argues. You clear your throat when you notice some visitors standing by the door. "How long have they been there?" You ask, trying to mask your anger. Pietro and Steve both give you sheepish smiles that don't quite reach their eyes. "Look Y/n we just wanted to make sure you were okay… and by the looks of it you're not."

You stand making your way to stand in front of Steve who had just taken a defensive stance. "Well you're right I'm not okay. Now what are you going to do about it Cap… Other than feeling pity every time you look at me." You say pushing your finger on his chest. "This does not leave this room you understand?" You say looking at both Steve and Pietro. "But, My sister…" You nod "Figure it out pretty boy. Now if you could leave the adults have to talk." They both sigh but take their leave. You turn and notice Tony and Bruce staring, not saying anything. You can only laugh at the sight.

As much as you did want to be mad you couldn't. You were starting to come to terms with the fact that your business was now becoming their business. "I just wanted to watch them squirm." You clarify making Tony laugh. "Well I'd say you achieved that." Bruce mentions. "I'll give them til the end of the day. What do you think?" You say looking at Tony. "How much are you willing to bet, Billionaire to Billionaire?" He asks, challenging you. "50 million dollars." He scoffs. "Don't be a prude, make it Euros." You nod. "Best money there is." You say agreeing with him. "I'll hold you to that Y/n." He says as you leave the lab.

Two days later you were busy. You'd been in contact with Bruce and Pepper. Currently you were looking for someone to mentor. Someone you could leave your legacy with. Logan was an obvious choice but you knew he wouldn't take it. "You wanna give it a break Y/n you're not going to find the perfect candidate in so little time." Logan mentions. When suddenly your secretary enters with more forms. "Ms. Krast these are the applications from Midtown Science High. There's only four. Liz Allan, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, and uhh Peter Parker." You sigh with a smile forming on your lips. "They've got to be here my mentee. These kids are geniuses."

You say as you look through the applications. Slowly crossing off the first two, that Flash kid and Liz. Ned and Peter it was a tough choice until you saw some of yourself in Peter's eyes. "It's him." You say under your breath catching Logan's attention. "Peter Parker… I want him, he will be the future of our company. Make arrangements. I want him to feel welcomed." You say as you start to gather your things. "Send out the acceptance letter today." You say to Logan on your way out. "Will do Boss." He says with a smile growing on his face as he reads the file. Peter didn't have it easy on the contrary he lived through a lot but he still managed to be him.

The next week went by in a blur. Your will and testament were drafted and certified. You were set on that end and now on the other front. You were currently parked outside Midtown High waiting for the bell to ring. When it does a couple of minutes pass when a fresh faced kid is knocking on your window. "Y/n Krast nice to meet you kid." You say rolling down the window. He seems a little nervous. "Come on in Peter. We're going to get to know each other a little before we begin working with the internship." He nods enthusiastically, a small smile forming on his lips. "Tell me about your Peter, I mean outside of what I already know."

"Well I'm what most people would call a nerd. My aunt may always say that's not true but it is." You hum in agreement pulling out of the school parking lot. "Well being popular is overrated anyways." You jump in. "And Ned, my best friend, we're huge fans of you and your work." He says his speed increases as he starts to ramble about how he followed your trajectory as soon as he found out who you were. "Well I'm glad you like what I do Peter but in my eyes were equals. I will teach you my ways and hopefully you'll take over once I'm dead. Keeping my legacy alive long after I'm dead." You say seriously making him settle and quiet down.

"Ms. Krast you can't be serious." He says giving you an incredulous look. "I was an orphan… I was given a chance. Someone believed in me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you remind me of me… and I would like to give you that same chance that I was given." You say sincerely. "Y/n that's too generous… Plus I don't think that I'm what you're looking for. I'm clumsy and…" You stop the car making him look at you. "You may not be ready now or tomorrow but if you let me teach you, you will be." You say reassuringly. "Plus I don't plan on dying anytime soon." You say playfully at the end causing Peter to laugh successfully lightening the mood. "Also another plus for you after this year's audit we'll be working hand in hand with Tony Stark."

At the mention of Tony's name he lit up ten times more than you thought possible. It made you laugh a little but you understood him. "That's amazing. Me working for Y/n Krast and Tony Stark, a literal dream come true." You nod at his statement. The day went by incredibly fast. He was a nice kid, respectful and smart, a little naïve but overall sensible. You went to his favorite pizza place and talked, went to Krast Industries and introduced him to Logan. Showed him his dedicated work space. "So here's your badge, don't lose it. Umm… you'll be here every other day after school, and if you have some special dates tell Margaret the secretary and she'll make a schedule around it." You say as you're walking towards the elevator.

Peter stops abruptly turning to face you. "Thank you really." He then proceeds to rather hastily pull you into a hug. You're shocked initially but hug him back nonetheless. "Don't sweat it kid." You say patting his back. "I'll have one of my drivers give you a lift home alright." He nods. Just before you press the button for the elevator the doors open. Revealing Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. It makes you laugh internally knowing that the young boy beside you just had his world rocked. "Ms. Krast this is real right?" He asks in a high pitched voice. You nod.

"Pepper Tony, I would like you to meet my new mentee Peter Parker." You say nudging him forward. "Hi, you're Tony Stark." He says in a daze. "Yes kid I am Tony stark and you are?" Tony could literally not care less. Until you gave Pepper a look and she nudged Tony. "Alright kid it was nice meeting you." He says overly enthusiastically. Peter takes the compliment either way. "Alright Peter go over to Margaret she'll take you to the driver. We have some urgent business to attend." He nods and waves goodbye shyly and takes his leave. "Right what do you guys need." Pepper clears her throat "Well actually Tony and I wanted to invite you out to lunch."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get going." You say walking off with Pepper. "You'll be pleased to know that you won our wager. They know..." Tony mentions at the restaurant. You laugh. "Told you!" Pepper gives you a look. "They're worried about you." You sigh. "Pepper, believe me I'm worried too." Tony quickly steps in. "Which you don't need to worry about too much, everything is in place. Everything panned out Dr. Cho was more than willing to help us. So whenever you want." He says again not meeting your gaze. "I was… ummm. Actually thinking we should hold off on that."

"What… why?" They both ask almost immediately. "I'm okay right now." Tony scoffs. "So you rather wait till you have another episode to undergo the procedure." You hum. "Precisely see you get it." Watching their confusion you continue. "I've got things I have to leave ready. Time that I can't take for granted." Before they could argue with you said. "I need time… I-i drafted my will a couple of days ago." You say burying your head into your hands. "It's funny really… how you get things you're willing to live for. And life just comes along and takes it from you." Your mind drifts off to Viv and David. You wipe your tears and excuse yourself. Just as you're about to leave you remember.

"Put the money in a college fund for the kid." You grab Peppers shoulder and nod. "We'll keep in touch." You say leaving the restaurant.

Three weeks later

Pretty early on you noticed Peter's jumpy behavior. It wasn't long till you found out his little secret. Again smart kid heart of gold even, but too naïve for his own good. You'd had one of your AI robots track him after he'd shown up a little dinged up. Telling him you knew took some time. You didn't know the extent of his capabilities, but you'd seen the kid walk on walls and kick some ass.

As cute as he looked in that makeshift costume you had a better one in mind. "Peter I would like to show you something." You call out from your workstation in the lab. "Ward pull up spider schematics please." You call out. "What do you think?" You say as Peter glances at his new suit. "I-i um… It's awesome but who is at for?" He said quickly. You almost burst out in laughter right then and there but you played along. "Well I was in Queens the other day and there was this mugging and some hero came out of nowhere and stopped the mugging." You say as you deconstruct the specks of the suit. Watching as peter gawks at the hologram.

"When I noticed his suit wasn't really a suit, I made him one. You think he'll like it?" Peter nods eagerly, you hum in response. "Alright then try it on, see how it fits spider boy." Peter stands there with his mouth hanging open and you could swear saliva came out. "You aren't that good at keeping secrets kid." You say handing him the suit. "I expect you to be careful, kid." Peter starts to ramble trying to explain himself and begs you to not fire him. You physically had to stop him from pacing. "No ones firing anyone. I'm proud of your kid again, just be careful." Emphasizing the last part. "I will" after all that's out of the way you and Peter spent the day testing out the specks in his new suit. Web slingers and all. Yo I didn't leave until he got the hang of it. It took a while but it was well with the wait.

The next day you wake up to the news seeing a familiar twin on the news. Not good Lagos had gone wrong, the building collapsed and Wanda was to 'blame'. You hurriedly made your way through your morning routine and raced to the compound. As soon as you make it to the common room you can tell something's off. "How is everybody?" You asked Steve who was the first you saw. "I'm assuming you heard about the incident." You don't have the heart to say yes so you just nod. "We're all a little down on morale. Nothing we can't fix." You say, giving you a small smile. You hate that he is down playing this because of your current dilemma. "It wasn't your fault." You say. As you walk off towards Pietro.

"Are you okay?" You ask this time actually worried Pietro doesn't seem like his usual self. "No...It's Wanda. She hasn't talked to anyone she hasn't eaten she hasn't left her room." He says all in one breath. He finally stopped stirring and slid down to the floor and sat. "Its my fault. I-i could've moved faster, I could've saved them." He says defeatedly. "Maybe… Maybe not" You say bluntly sitting in front of him. "You can't go back now. And I know it's a sour experience. You made the right decision." You sigh. "You made the choice that saved the most lives." He nods letting out a deep breath. "I know… I know but Wanda. If I had saved those people Wanda wouldn't be feeling like this right now." You shake your head. "You fail to realize that if you had done that you would've died along with the other victims. Wanda will come around and let me talk to her." He only nods. "She's in her room."

You knock on her door a couple of times… no answer. So you make yourself comfortable and prepare yourself. Your knock every minute or two and you're constantly yelling in your head. Half an hour goes by and nothing. You go back to mentally yelling, when suddenly you're being dragged by the collar of your shirt into the room with the doors shutting behind you. "You're stubborn like a mule." She says not sparring you a look. "Yeah well I'm dying what are you gonna do about it." You quipped smiling at her. She chuckles. Suddenly the light leaves her face. "I killed people… I put people in danger, I put my own brother I'm danger." You nod. "You also saved hundreds of people. God only knows what that gas would have done. So thank you Wanda. You're my hero." You say sending her a smile.

Right when she's about to say something a certain red friend phases through the wall. "You will never cease to amaze me Vision." You say while looking between him and the wall. "You have very good taste in clothes." You mention as you eye him. He smiles. "Vision. We talked about this, there's a door for a reason." Wanda states. "Yes, well the door was open so I assumed…" He says, explaining himself. "What did you need Vision?" Wanda asks cutting him off. "Well Mr. Stark asked me to come and get both you there is a team meeting. With secretary Ross."

#avengers #marvel #natasha x y/n #pietro maximoff #wanda x reader #tony stark #natasha romanoff #reader x avengers #wanda maximoff #fanfic #mcufam #stark reader #captain america #civil war

35 notes · View notes

milstrim · 3 years

Text

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 5: Ironic

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

"Woah."

"I know, right," Peter said, unzipping the inside of the suit and moving to plug it into Ned's computer. His friend continued to gape at it, fingers trailing over the fabric reverently.

"I can't believe Iron Man made this," he whispered. "I get to sit here. And touch a superhero suit. That Tony Stark made. For my best friend. This is the greatest day of my life."

"You've said that a lot recently," Peter pointed out, pulling up the schematics of the suit on Ned's computer, who turned to look at him in confusion.

"What are you doing? Are you supposed to be messing with it?"

"I'm not messing with it. I'm just going through Karen's code real quickly."

"Karen?"

"The AI," he explained. "I just want to make sure she's not gonna snitch on me."

"Snitch on you for what?"

"Uhhh, so you know those alien weapons I've been talking about?"

Ned nodded. "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna take that down, and I don't really need Karen telling Mr. Stark," he mumbled the last part nervously. Ned stared at him.

"Why don't we want Karen telling Mr. Stark again? I mean, he gave you the suit, he must think you're capable."

Peter paused, puffing up his cheeks as he took in an awkward breath, staring at the protocols showing up on the computer. He'd already spotted three to tell Mr. Stark if he was in trouble, so he knew it was the opposite of Ned's assumption.

"Actuallyyyy..." He took a deep breath. "You can't tell anyone this." Ned nodded, but he continued to press. "I mean it. Nobody. Not a soul."

"I won't, I won't! I promise, Peter. Not. A. Soul."

"Mr. Stark's my soulmate."

Ned's head whipped around to stare at Peter's shadow, his mouth falling open.

"Oh, my God... Oh, my God! He's your soulmate!!?" Peter nodded, preparing himself for Ned's excited ramblings, but he couldn't really hide the smile on tugging at his lips either, however faint it was. "This is insane! Your life is so fucking insane I think I'm going to lose it!! Have you talked to him? Wait--yeah you have! How many times have you talked to him? Have you done, I don't know, 'soulmate things?'"

"Ned, what?"

Ned threw his hands up. "I don't know, I haven't met my soulmate. I'm trying my best, Peter!"

Peter laughed, shrugging.

"I don't really know what 'soulmate things' are, but we had dinner, and he showed me some stuff in his lab."

"Oh, my God...you've been in his lab. You know you have to show me one day."

"Definitely. I'll figure it out later, just, let us get more used to each other? Maybe? Let me impress him at least, which is why I'm trying to keep Karen from snitching on me."

"Sure. Here," Ned agreed, sitting beside him on the bed and gesturing for the computer. Peter passed it over to him wordlessly. "I'll work on the protocols, you do detective work or something."

"Thanks, dude."

"By the way, and answer honestly, is that Tony Stark's hoodie?"

Peter glanced down at the red hoodie that Mr. Stark had given him, 'MIT' emblazoned on the sleeves while the faded logo sat on the front of the piece of clothing. He smiled at Ned. "Yep."

"This is so cool," his friend melted.

With an amused eyeroll, Peter pulled out his phone, clearing his throat and nervously calling, "Karen?"

The phone lit up. "Yes, Peter?"

"Listen, ah, I was wondering if you could help me. I'm trying to figure out who these guys under the bridge were a few nights ago, but I mean, I can only kind of remember part of a license plate."

"Can you tell me where you were?" Peter rattled off Liz's neighborhood. Karen was silent for a little bit before piping up again. "Was there a white van involved?"

Peter perked up. "Yes! Exactly!"

A hologram popped up from Peter's phone. Ned stopped to stare at it as they both let out an identical, "Whoa..."

Peter watched intently from the security camera as the van rolled up under the bridge to where the buyer had been waiting. Karen highlighted the faces for him.

"Okay. The two on the right, who are they?" he asked.

"Searching law enforcement databases," Karen said, pausing before answering. "No records found for two of the individuals."

"Nothing?"

"One individual identified." The recording was replaced by a mugshot. "Aaron Davis, age thirty-three. He has a criminal record and an address here in Queens."

Peter and Ned glanced at each other. Ned said, "The protocols are disabled."

"Let's pay him a visit."

---

"So, what's this surprise you've been talking about?"

Tony's head shot up at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. He smiled, turning from where he'd been forcing some kitchen tools into a box to take in the woman as she stepped off of the elevator. She very much looked like she'd just come out of a meeting in sharp business slacks and an exhausted expression.

"Hey, Pep. How was...London?"

"Tokyo," she corrected, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "It was tiring. How's the packing?"

"Eh, boring," he said, kicking the box lightly and shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, anyway, I think that we should reconsider moving to the compound permanently."

"Tony, we just finished all the paperwork for the tower! And most floors have been packed by now, we can't just--"

"Not the tower. Just for us. Ever thought about a nice high-rise in Queens?"

Pepper stared at him, crossing her arms. "Queens? Since when have you ever cared about Queens?"

"Well, that's the surprise."

"The surprise is that you want to move to Queens?"

"No," Tony corrected, unable to stop his bright grin. "The surprise is that my soulmate lives in Queens."

It took a couple of seconds for that to register to Pepper. When it did, her eyebrows raised and she let out a smiled gasp. "You found him?"

Tony nodded. "Yep, just swinging around New York like a maniac."

"Swinging?"

"He's Spider-Man. Well, 'man's' a strong word. Here." He waved his hand, pulling up a screen that displayed Peter's yearbook photo. Pepper cooed at him. "Peter Parker. Top of his class at Midtown High by day, overly excited vigilante by night."

"He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly, never mind stop robberies. How'd he get his powers?"

"Forgot to ask, actually. He wasn't super excited to meet me at first, actually."

Pepper snorted. "Good. I'm glad he doesn't feed your ego."

"Hey! This is serious," he pouted.

"Uhuh." Pepper gave him another kiss on the cheek. "How'd you meet him?"

"Mugging. I bought him a hot chocolate."

"Hmm. I expected something stranger given your track record."

"He ran away."

"There it is," she said. "It's all good now, though?"

"Yeah..."

"Tony?"

He hesitated. "Peter lives at a group home, and I gotta say, not super fond of his foster father."

"Is he... Does he hurt Peter?" Pepper asked. He shrugged.

"Possibly. I gave Peter some money and the guy took it. Spent hundreds of dollars on liquor. And the kid's really thin. Jumpy, too. But there's nothing to prove right now."

"I'm surprised I didn't have our lawyer calling me to say you broke into a foster home and kidnapped a kid."

Tony shrugged, giving her a soft smile. "I don't need to break down the door to say hi to Peter. Besides, kid's wary, gets nervous easily. I don't want to scare him off by being too invasive about his home."

"Good on you for learning some boundaries, Tony," she congratulated before turning just a little more serious as she glanced at Peter's picture again. "You're sure he's alright?"

"No. But he's got a new superhero suit, a phone with me, Friday, and his own AI on speed dial, an unlimited credit card, and a badge to get into the tower. He's got resources if he needs them."

"Then let's just hope he doesn't need them."

---

Peter waited until the next day to find and interrogate Aaron Davis, more at Ned's insistence that they study for their Spanish quiz and to let his friend geek out over the suit than anything else. He'd stayed at his friend's house for as long as humanly possible, readily accepting whatever snack that Ned had pushed his way and going over notes that Karen gave him about Davis. It wasn't until the alarm he'd had Karen set that it was 9:40 went off did he leave.

Peter didn't like to impose on his friend so much, but Ned hadn't seemed to mind with the new addition of a supersuit and Mr. Stark being his soulmate, and the teenager couldn't help the way he was still avoiding Mr. Fowler like the plague. After leaving Mr. Stark's on Sunday and failing to stop a simple burglary, he'd hurried back to the group home, helping Eric with his homework and then cooping himself up in his room. He'd managed to avoid him the entire night and the next morning due to the man being passed out drunk in his room. Though he was still wracked with guilt at the fact that his foster father had stolen Mr. Stark's money on alcohol, he had to admit that it was at least useful.

Bidding goodnight to his friend, Peter slipped out of the apartment and hurried down onto the street where he joined the late night crowd as he made his way back to the group home. He popped his earbuds in and chose a song on his phone (that had an unlimited choice for him now, but he just stuck with his familiar Spotify playlists) as he rushed back to a place that he wished he could avoid for longer. Unfortunately, the curfew was final, so he made it back to the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys with five minutes to spare.

He stopped in front of the door as his hairs rose. Surprisingly, they didn't direct him towards the house, instead calling him to turn around. Peter glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of a man sitting at an apartment's steps a few buildings down. It was too dark to see his face, especially with the hat he wore pulled down low, but he looked just a little familiar. More than a little nervous, the teenager shook it off and stepped inside.

Mr. Fowler was waiting for him at the dining table. Peter paused, taking out his earbuds as Mr. Fowler turned to stare at him, chewing on a slice of pizza. For some reason, despite living in New York, the man was obsessed with frozen pizza. It was practically criminal, but Peter excused it as mind games since all the kids weren't allowed to eat any of it. Only a sociopath would eat exclusively frozen pizza in Queens.

"Pity. I was hoping you'd be late," Mr. Fowler frowned at Peter as he shuffled to a hesitant stop by the stairs. "Got another card for me?"

"No," Peter lied stiffly.

"What? No sugar daddy today?"

He knew better than to argue. "I hung out with Ned."

Mr. Fowler stared at him, but the travel agent was nothing if not a man of his word. Peter had been on time, so he waved the teenager on. Resisting the urge to scramble into the safety of his room, he whisked up the steep stairs and into the dark bedroom only lit by the lamp in the corner.

Tim was already asleep, but Jeremiah was sat on his bed going over what looked like a book report. The teenager paid Peter no mind as he dropped his bag onto the ground beside his bed and changed into a pajama shirt. He kept the hoodie on that Mr. Stark had given despite the warmth of the night as he slipped under his covers, bundling up in the reassuring fabric.

Peter didn't fall asleep for a while, grateful for the light provided by the lamp as he stared at the outline of Mr. Stark's shadow as though it were the only thing in the world. It might as well be for all he cared. Blocking out Mr. Fowler was quickly becoming a new necessity that was increasingly hard to do with the way his senses focused in on every little thing.

The entire house smelled of the man's alcohol, musty and strong and littered with the memories of a dark closet where even his shadow hadn't been able to comfort him. But the hoodie carried the fading scent of Mr. Stark that washed away his tired uneasiness, at least for the time being, and the shadow kept him preoccupied with one comforting thought. Out there, just across a bridge, was an adult who cared.

---

When Peter woke up, he felt off. He wasn't quite sure how to explain it, just that he knew the day was going to go wrong before it started. He wanted to curl up deeper into the hoodie that wrapped around him like a cocoon, but forced himself to push the covers off of himself and plant hit feet on the cold morning floor.

Jeremiah's bed was already empty, so Peter assumed that he'd already eaten and left with Eric, whose school started much earlier than everyone else's. Tim was still asleep, so Peter put on a pair of pants, grabbed his bag, and woke the kid up before knocking on the door of the other kids' room. He then headed downstairs and began putting together bowls of cereal for the kids that would be stumbling downstairs in a few minutes.

Mr. Fowler was in the kitchen, leaving the teenager to shuffle around him awkwardly as the man gave him a suspicious glare that he tried desperately to ignore. He left the kitchen as quickly as possible, placing the bowls down in the kids' usual spots and then taking up his own place to quickly scarf down a bowl of tasteless cereal. By the time he was finished, all the other kids had already stumbled downstairs and begun to eat.

Peter went along preparing their bags and then taking their bowls to the sink once they were done. He had just put the last dish in the dishwasher when the other boys at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys walked out the door, leaving him alone with Mr. Fowler. The man was staring at him with the same suspicious glare as he closed the pantry and then made to grab his backpack.

"Wait just a moment, Peter," Mr. Fowler said. Peter paused immediately, holding back a shiver at the danger in his tone.

"Sir?"

"There was a pack of granola bars missing from the pantry last night." The man glared at him, clearly waiting for a reaction, but Peter just stared at him, hesitant. Which kid had taken the bars? He hadn't seen anything off in their bags, unless Mr. Fowler had just miscounted, though that didn't happen often. "Anything to say to that, Peter?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, sir. I didn't take them."

"You didn't? I find that very hard to believe. How close are you to ending your grounding?"

"Three days, Mr. Fowler."

He tutted, standing up from his chair and stepping over to Peter. The teenager couldn't stop the way he froze, tensing up and squaring his shoulders as a large, meaty hand clamped down on one. Fingers curled over the thick fabric of his hoodie, pricking at his skin.

"Well, it would be a pity if it was extended longer. You're sure you didn't take anything?"

"Nothing, sir." The hand flashed to his hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling his head down and to the side with a pained grunt. Peter forced his breaths to steady even as tears pricked at his eyes. "I didn't take anything, Mr. Fowler, I promise!"

"Then you've wasted my time, son. Do you know what makes up for lost time?"

"Wha-what? Sir."

"A bit of hard cash." Peter noticed the way the man's hand trembled. "That card was nice for the weekend, but I'm afraid I'm running a little low. Got anything else for me?"

His thoughts flashed to the newly activated card sitting in his wallet, tucked safely in his hoodie pocket. He could just give it up and walk away. Mr. Fowler would be happy and Peter could go to school, safe and sound.

Steely eyes met Mr. Fowler's impossibly strained ones. "No. I don't have any other money."

The fist let go of his hair, throwing him back. Peter caught himself in a stumble as Mr. Fowler looked at him in disgust.

"Fine," the man rasped. "Extend your grounding until next week, then. Now get to school before I'm forced to call you in an excuse."

Peter mumbled out a grated, "Yes, sir," before stumbling out the door. Instead of making his way to school, he stumbled into the nearest alleyway. The teenager sucked in a deep breath, cursing himself for the tears biting at his eyes and the panic choking his throat. He was fine. Nothing had happened. He was completely fine. It wasn't like the extension of his grounding even mattered, Peter had money to buy food when he needed it. Everything. Was. Fine.

But Peter wasn't fine. He was choking on air and stumbling on panic as he slid down a grimy alleyway wall, unable to even begin to calm down. He didn't know why he was even freaking out so bad, Mr. Fowler had only pulled his hair, but the revival of the strong smell of liquor and the closeness of the man's face to his was horribly haunting.

Peter pulled at his hair as he finally managed to wheeze in a breath, staring desperately at the shadow in front of him. Mr. Stark's fluffy hair and tall shoulders seemed to stare back at him, almost reassuring. The teenager shoved his nose into the collar of his cardinal hoodie, taking in a deep breath to drown out Mr. Fowler.

It calmed him slightly.

But not quite enough.

With chattering teeth, Peter pulled his bag off of his shoulder and tore the suit out of it. With no hesitation, he took off his clothes and stepped into the suit. Karen greeted him instantly.

"Good morning, Peter. Shouldn't you be heading to school?"

"Uh, no, no. Not today, Karen. That man, Aaron Davis? Where is he right now?"

A path was highlighted on his screen.

---

"Remember me?"

Peter's voice was almost hilariously unnatural, but the man at the car stumbled back, so he guessed it worked. He thundered forward to where Aaron Davis was trying to stumble away from his car but was pulled back by the web sticking to the open hood.

"Uh, hey..."

"I need information. You're gonna give it to me now," Peter demanded half-heartedly, the enhanced interrogation mode making his voice much angrier. Maybe it was better than he thought.

"All right, chill," Davis placated.

"Come on!"

Davis paused, staring at him in confusion. Peter tried not to shuffle on his feet. "What happened to your voice?"

Crap.

"What do you mean, what happened to my voice?"

"I heard you by the bridge. I know what a girl sound like," Davis deadpanned.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a boy," Peter protested, quickly moving to correct himself. "I mean, I'm a--I'm a man."

"I don't care what you are, a boy, a girl..." the man trailed off with a shrug, continuing to load his car with groceries.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a man," he protested again. "Come on, man. Look, who is selling these weapons? I need to know. Give me names--or else."

Davis slammed the trunk shut and Peter flinched back on instinct. The man flashed him a teasing smile, shaking his head.

"You ain't ever done this before, huh?"

"Deactivate interrogation mode," Peter said sullenly. Davis huffed in amusement, shaking his head again. "Look, man, these guys are selling weapons that are crazy dangerous. They can't just be out on the streets. Look, if one of them can just cut Delmar's bodega in half..."

Davis, not paying attention in the slightest, looked up, regarding him in slight interest. "You know Delmar's?"

"Yeah, best sandwich in Queens," he shrugged.

"Sub Haven's pretty good."

"It's too much bread."

"I like bread."

"Come on, man, please," the teenager begged one last time. Davis stared at him, unresponsive, so with a dramatic throw of his hands, Peter began to walk away. "Stupid interrogation mode. Karen, don't ever do that again."

"The other night," Aaron started. Peter turned around to look at him. "You told that dude, "if you shoot somebody, shoot me." It's pretty ballsy. I don't want those weapons in this neighborhood. I got a nephew who live here.

Tentatively, Peter stepped back over, catching sight of the man's shadow. It was smaller, clearly a boy with a tall afro.

"Who are these guys? What can you tell me about the guy with the wings?"

"Other than he's a psychopath dressed like a demon, nothing. I don't know who he is or where he is." Peter sighed, leaning his head on the car roof. He was never going to prove to Mr. Stark he was worthy of being his soulmate when he couldn't even find the vulture guy. Aaron offered, "I do know where he's gonna be."

Peter perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, this crazy dude I used to work with, he's supposed to be doing a deal with him."

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed, beginning to step away in giddiness. "Yes. Thank--"

"Hey, hey, hey," Aaron called. Peter stopped. "I didn't tell you where. You don't have a location."

Peter flushed bright red, making his way back to the car in embarrassment. "Right, of course. Yeah, my bad. Silly. Just...Yeah. Where is it?"

"Can I give you some advice?" Peter hummed. "You got to get better at this part of the job."

"I don't understand. I'm intimidating."

He crossed his arms, but Aaron only shook his head again.

"Staten Island ferry, eleven."

"Oh, that's soon," Peter realized. He began to walk away, pointing a finger at where the man's hand was webbed. "Hey, that's gonna dissolve in two hours."

"No, no, no, no. Come fix this."

"Two hours. You deserve that."

"I got ice cream in here."

"You deserve that. You're a criminal! Bye, Mr. Criminal!!"

---

Tony clapped his hands together in an attempt to dust them off as he stared around the packaged remains of his lab. Scribbled formulas and problems had been wiped clean from boards, tables folded and disassembled, and prototypes all packed into boxes ready to be loaded onto the plane in a few days time. Most of what was left in his workplace was personal items and two encased Iron Man armors.

"How we looking on time, Fri?" he asked, grabbing his mug from where he'd placed it on the counter earlier and taking a sip.

"Packing for the move to the compound is on schedule, boss," the AI responded.

"Great," he said, smacking his lips at the comforting bitterness of his coffee, "How's the search for a Queens apartment going?"

"I have several different listings placed into the Itsy Bitsy Spider folder for you to look at."

"Great. Forward them to Pepper."

"Of course, sir."

Satisfied with the prospective of flipping through apartment listings closer to Peter in the evening, he glanced down at his shadow, frowning at the lack of fluffy hair there. It was Tuesday, wasn't it? He checked his watch for the time. Barely eleven. He was pretty sure Peter should be in school by now.

"Friday, is the spider-suit active?"

"Yes, sir."

He frowned harder. "Activate the Baby Monitor Protocol, I want to see what's going on."

"That protocol has been disabled, sir."

"What?"

The AI was silent for a moment before responding, "It has been disabled, along with many others. The only way to reinstate them would be manually."

Tony glanced down at his shadow again. Surely the kid wasn't messing with the suit? And especially not the protocols to keep him safe? And he'd skipped school, too.

"Call Peter."

---

Peter peered over the top of the ferry roof at the men gathering below, who practically screamed shady. He kept an eye on Dronie's recording, the small robot keeping an eye on the other two guys up on the ferry, while Karen highlighted the men below.

"Who’s the guy on the left?" he asked, his spine shivering as he looked at the man.

"Mac Gargan. Extensive criminal record, including homicide. Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark?"

"What? No. I've got this, Karen."

One of the men that Peter had seen at the bridge approached Gargan. Peter could easily pick up his muttered. "White pickup truck."

Gargan nodded at one of his crones, who immediately began walking into the inside of the ferry holding the cars.

"Dronie," Peter whispered. "Scan the ship for a white pickup truck."

He watched the footage apprehensively as Dronie flew farther outside the ferry, x-raying the boat to pick out the truck inside. The robot then zipped over to it, beginning to scan the contents covered in the trunk but flying away and back to Peter as a man stepped out the front. His leg bounced nervously as the robot settled back in his chest, his heart beating erratically.

"Oh, this is too perfect," Peter said. "I got the weapons, buyers, and sellers all in one place."

"Incoming call from Tony Stark."

"No, no, no. No, no, don’t answer."

Despite his protests, the screen of his suit was swept away as Mr. Stark filled his screen. Peter tried not to grimace, keeping a careful eye on the men below even as the billionaire began to speak.

"Mr. Parker. Got a sec?" Mr. Stark greeted with a tight smile.

"Uh, I’m actually at school," Peter lied, ignoring Karen's correction in his ear. "I gotta get back to class, Mr. Stark, so--"

"What class?"

"Uhh--" Shit, what did he have at eleven? "Alge--"

The ferry's horn blared excruciatingly loudly. Peter resisted the urge to grimace, trying to keep an eye on the criminals below still.

"Band. I'm at, uh, band practice."

Mr. Stark stared at him, unimpressed. "That's...odd. You told me you quit band when you started swinging around as Spider-Man."

"I gotta go. Uh, end call."

"Hey," Mr. Stark protested, but the screen clicked close, allowing Peter to clearly see the people below once more. He flicked out a wrist, snapping a web onto a pair of keys being handed over.

"I’ll take those! Yoink!" He flipped, snatching the keys and webbing them to the ceiling. "Hey, guys. The illegal-weapons-deal-ferry was at 10:30. You missed it."

He webbed away the weapons from two guys quickly and threw them into the water. With a shiver up his spine, he ducked out of the way of the approaching man wearing the shocking gauntlet. The man's weaponized arm got stuck in the net on the ferry.

While he was distracted with the gauntlet guy, the other two he'd disarmed had scrambled to their feet, egging for a get away. Peter turned lackadaisically, webbing them

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast." He threw the two to the ground. "Are you guys okay? My bad. That was a little hard. I gotta say the other guy was way better with that thing. I’m honestly, I’m, I’m shocked."

This was going super well.

---

Peter let out a short scream of pain, suspended between the two crumbling halves of the ferry. His arms burned as he gripped at the webs fruitlessly, but he refused to let go. He could hear their heartbeats, fast and afraid and exactly like his own. The teenager panted, straining harder than he ever had before only to continue to fail. The ferry wasn't coming back together, his webs hadn't done anything, and the entire ship was going to fall apart.

And yet he refused to let go, even as he felt his arms tear painfully. He cracked his eyes open, searching desperately for his shadow. It was currently lost in the waves crashing underneath as cars piled into the rushing water. There was a moment, so quick he almost missed it, where a car hood stayed still long enough just for him to make out the shadow.

Of an Iron Man armor.

There was a metal groaning and an easing on his shoulders. Peter looked away from his shadow.

"What the hell?" With the ferry putting itself together, the teenager let himself drop onto the ferry floor, arm raised in fearful apprehension as the sound of metal colliding echoed around the entire boat. "What the hell..."

Mr. Stark in the Iron Man armor rose into view at the windows. Despite the fact that he was wearing a mask, it was easy to tell he looked angry. Or, hopefully, he was reading too much into it and the suit was just mean looking.

"Hi, Spider-Man. Band practice, was it?"

Nope. He sounded mad too. Peter had to force down a shiver, ignoring the clapping people and swinging to the cargo hold as Mr. Stark flew under it, beginning to piece the ship back together. He followed anxiously on the ceiling, turmoil sitting heavy in his stomach as he followed the man.

"Uh, Mr. Stark?" he called nervously. He continued to skitter after the man as he flew up to the ferry's top, trying to catch the man's attention even as he continued to ignore the teenager. "Hey, Mr. Stark. Could I do anything? What do you want me to do?"

"I think you’ve done enough."

Peter couldn't even bear to look at his shadow.

---

"So that’s it, you’re just gonna run?" Adrian asked as Schultz approached with his overflowing duffle bag.

"Feds were waiting for us. Now we’re on Iron Man’s radar? Yeah, I’m running. You should, too."

"You know I can’t do that," Toomes said, glancing down at the shadow of his wife.

"So now what?" Schultz shrugged. Adrian rubbed at his chin.

"Mason, can you get that high-altitude seal thing up and running in time?"

"Seriously?" the engineer asked, comically giddy despite how hilariously screwed they all were. "Yes. You will not regret this."

Adrian turned back to Schultz. "You in?"

The man glanced down on the floor, contemplative. "If we get caught, we're dead. And we have days before that plane takes off. We'll be caught before then. Stark will get us, you know that."

"So we take care of Stark."

"Take care of Stark? You're crazy. How the hell are we gonna to kill Iron Man?"

Adrian thought for a moment, thoughts creeping back to the night over the lake; a defensive boy and an over-eager man and matching shadows. Peter Parker, as had been reported by one of his men following the kid. He even went to Liz's school, on her academic team and everything. He hurt a little to do this, but nothing was more important than family.

"We don't need to kill Stark," Adrian responded. "We just need to insure his compliance."

---

Tony finally spotted the kid sitting on the edge of the building, his legs thrown over the side, his mask torn off his face as he stared down at the water. The bulky outline of the Iron Man armor extended behind him, an imposing figure compared to the hunched and shivering kid. The sound of sirens and helicopters rang in the distance, only feeding fuel to the fire that was his anger. It had been two days since he'd given Peter the suit and he'd already hacked it, lied to him, and endangered the lives of more than a hundred people. He'd taken Tony's tech and ran with it, doing what the man had warned the teenager not to do, and almost gotten himself killed too.

It terrified him just as much as it infuriated him.

"Previously on Peter Screws the Pooch," Tony started, hovering next to Peter's spot on the building. "I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multimillion-dollar suit so you could sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do."

"Is everyone okay?" Peter rasped.

"No thanks to you."

He clunked down on the ground, but Peter barely even looked at him, just grasping the mask in his fingers tighter. After a tense moment, the kid turned to glare at him, a sour look on his face.

"What do you care?"

The question almost shocked Tony from his anger, but the fury managed to cling on as the suit opened, allowing for him to step out. There was a defensive flicker on Peter's face, washed away as quickly as it came, at the stiff anger glued to his figure.

"What do I care?" he echoed incredulously. "Who the hell gave you the suit that you're wearing right now? The one that you used to go fight people you weren't ready to fight. Peter, you're not prepared for this--"

"I didn't see you doing anything."

"Who do you think called the FBI, huh?" Tony demanded.

"And they got their asses kicked immediately!"

"And you did what exactly?"

Peter swallowed. A soft, angry mumble shivered from his chest. "I just wanted to be like you."

Tony glowered. "And I wanted you to be better."

Peter didn't have an answer to that, turning away with a sharp flinch to stare down at the water again where the ferry was finally beginning to dock. His face was scrunched up in cold anger. Tony stared at him, waiting, but the teenager didn't do anything. Didn't say anything. With an indignant sniff, Tony glanced between the approaching boat of people and the kid sitting stiffly in front of him.

"Okay, it’s not working out. I’m gonna need the suit back."

That caught Peter's attention. His head whipped around and he finally swiveled off of the building's edge, standing to face him. The defensiveness was back in full force now, broken only by a shiver of fear in the tremble on his face.

The teenager swallowed. "For how long?"

"Forever." Peter gaped at him, shaking his head. Tony hit him with a withering expression. "Yeah. Yeah, that’s how it works."

"No, no, no... Please, please, please..." the kid rushed, his voice pitching higher.

"Let’s have it."

"You don’t understand. Please. This is all I have. I’m nothing without this suit."

"If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it." Tony stopped in his demand, pausing to stare into the distance under the guise of letting Peter absorb his words but really choking down his own panic and regret. This was how he was treating his soulmate. He hadn't known this kid for a week and he'd had maybe two successful conversations with him. And now he was yelling and bringing down and punishing. "God, I sound like my dad."

Peter stared at him, swallowing. "Mr. Stark, please I don't want you to g--"

"The suit. Peter."

He could barely even look at the kid's completely dejected expression.

---

Peter meandered down the street, his head down as he forced himself to bite down on tears. It wasn't that hard, he'd had a lot of practice recently after all, but he couldn't deny that it hurt. Well, he could, but not to himself.

With the loss of the suit, Peter's bag was considerably lighter. Empty. It was disturbingly similar to how he felt in the moment, like a stumbling shell of a person.

He'd fucked up. He knew he had. But he didn't think he'd fucked up enough to lose his soulmate. He'd just--he'd just wanted to try and impress Mr. Stark, to show the man that he was worthy of being the shadow that had followed the superhero--his hero--around for fifteen years. He huffed to himself quietly at the horrible irony of it all.

After Mr. Stark had demanded to the suit, well, Peter had given it to him. He hadn't had much other choice. The man had allowed for him to go grab the bag he'd webbed to an alleyway earlier and change into his clothes. Choking down panicked tears, the teenager had folded up the barely used suit, and, after a moment of hesitation, slipped the card, the phone, and the badge given to him into the mask. He wanted to have given him the red hoodie too, but it was the only top he'd had, so he'd reluctantly kept it. He'd given the stuff that was no longer his to the still seething Avenger and had left. Mr. Stark hadn't ask where he was going, so he hadn't told him.

Not that Peter was amazingly sure he knew himself. He didn't want to go back to where Mr. Fowler was surely working from home. Peter was supposed to be at school, the man would be furious that he hadn't gone, and he didn't have the courage to face him right now. The ghosted feeling of a hand tugging at his hair and painful nails in his shoulder was enough to keep him wandering the streets of Queens for as long as he possibly could.

There wasn't a destination, there was barely even a journey, there was just the tired wanderings of a teenager trying desperately not to break down crying. Part of him wished he'd kept the phone, just so he could text Ned, or even lose himself mindlessly on social media for an hour or two, but Mr. Stark's words rang clearly in his head.

"Forever."

Peter shook himself vigorously, taking a wispy breath. Of course he would lose his soulmate not even a week after meeting him. Everyone else had left too, it really only made sense.

He didn't know why he'd let himself hope.

"I don't want you to go."

A painfully strong shiver up his spine forced the teenager to stop in the middle of the alleyway he'd been cutting through. Peter pulled back his sleeve, brows furrowing as the hairs on his arm rose on end. Without his phone, or the watch kept on his webshooter, the teen had no way of knowing what time it was, but it had to have been at least half an hour since Mr. Stark had taken the suit. Since he'd caused a gun to split a ferry full of innocent bystanders in half.

"And I wanted you to be better."

Peter had assumed his senses had continued to freak out from the resounding adrenaline and the complete rush of panic that had been today--from the horribleness of it all--but they still weren't calming down.

Jittery, he turned to leave the alleyway back the way he came, but there was a man blocking his way. He froze when he recognized him and the glitching gauntlet on his arm. From the bridge and the ferry. The man stalked forward.

Peter whipped around to escape towards the other end, but another man stood there as well, a different alien weapon in his hands. Peter paused again, eyes shifting desperately for an escape even as the weapon behind him charged up with a threatening snap.

"Give it up, kid," ordered the man. "Come easy, and we won't hurt you."

"Wow. So reassuring," Peter snapped. Without warning, the teenager leaped, jumping onto the wall as high as he could reach. He attempted to begin skittering up the wall, but there was another spike in his senses.

There was no time to dodge as he was encased by an annoyingly familiar blue light that crashed him to the ground straight into a gathering of trashcans. He groaned in pain as he collided with the metal, the cans tipping over and releasing their contents near and on him. There were footsteps, and he tried to push himself back up, but the man with the gauntlet approached quicker than he could recover.

The teenager stared up at him as the man smirked. The gauntlet cracked.

"Nighty-night."

Peter could only close his eyes as a metal fist came crashing down.

---

~Click for better quality~

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

#friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker #you would not BELIEVE the amount of time i spent on the stupid thing peter is sitting on #idk who designed that #but fuck them

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zukos-scribe · 3 years

Text

Grief

Peter Parker x Reader

Ok this is another one of my fics from my old blog that I edited heavily and am reposting on here. So if you've seen this before don't worry.

Major trigger warning for dying/death/torture/etc.

You were breathing hard, sweat pouring down your face as you tried to gain your bearings. It was hot and dark, only one rickety old lamp hanging high from the ceiling.

It illuminated your face along with the other person sitting in the room with you, Peter.

Peter Parker.

He's your best friend, you were the only person in school that he trusted with his spiderman secret from the very beginning. And he's the guy that you had been crushing on for the past three years.

But alas, he was currently crushing on a really popular senior girl named Liz. You had to admit, she was beautiful. A lot more than yourself. Every time she talked to you or Peter, your insecurities grew.

You considered yourself more of the background friend. Someone that was there to lean on if needed, that friend that would have to step behind the others when walking down the sidewalks.

However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a good friend. He was a great friend. He was there when you needed him, listened to you geek out about your interests, made sure to include you in conversations with others.

He was your best friend.

Even though you wanted him to be more.

But it had been harder since he had become spiderman. He was rushing around, he didn’t have as much time for you anymore. Study dates and friend time had become near impossible. Weekend tech and gaming events had disappeared.

It was the night of the homecoming dance, and he had rushed out of the school looking desperate and scared, even ditching Liz after bringing her as his date.

You didn’t know what was happening so you chased after him.

“Peter!” you called as you ran after him.

“Go back! Y/N! Don’t follow me!” he yelled, changing into his spiderman suit. You continued to run after him anyway. But he was too fast for you now.

“Peter!” you screamed as he took off.

You stood there outside of the school watching as your best friend and the boy that you loved swung off into the night.

“Well, how sweet it is that I found spiderman’s little…. Whatever you are,” a threatening voice suddenly said from behind you.

You spun around to see whoever it was, but a pair of hands reached out to grab you before you could see their face.

Then, blackness. ~~~~ When you woke you were in that darkened room, only the one rusty light on the ceiling. It didn’t shed light on anything other than Peter’s face and an IV going into your arm. Your wrists were gently tied to the arms of your chair with pieces of cloth. The two of you were seated at a table across from each other, with another chair on your right side. Obviously, someone was going to be joining you.

You looked at Peter in fear.

“What’s going on?” you croaked.

“I don’t know.”

You stared at him until a loud mental bang rang throughout the room.

A pair of hands appeared by Peter’s head, wrapping a dirty piece of cloth around his mouth. Peter’s eyes widened in fear and he tried to fight off the man.

“Now, Peter if you want to me to take off that gag you need to listen first of all. Although I think by the end of this you won’t be able to care anymore. I aim to destroy you.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as he sat down in the chair next to you.

“Well darling, I think that our precious spiderman here is about to lose his best friend forever. That IV in your arm is slowly killing you. But, if you can talk fast enough, you might be able to save yourself. But I don’t know, you’ve never said anything like this to him before.”

“Tell him what?” you asked confused.

“All of those deep dark feelings that you’ve hidden away in the back of your heart and brain. The ones that only come out when it’s late at night and you’re done with the world. The ones that began to appear after Spiderboy here came into the picture So go ahead, get talking. I’ll be one room over.”

The man got up and removed your constraints before leaving the room.

Peter looked at you with worry and confusion in his eyes. He tried to say something against the gag, but nothing coherent came out.

“I’m sorry Peter, I’m so sorry,” you cried, letting your head droop. “I didn’t want you to ever find out about any of this.”

He started to struggle in his chair, trying to loosen his bonds. You reached over to carefully slip the gag off of his mouth. You wanted to help him get free, but he was cuffed to the chair with mental.

“Y/N, what is he talking about? Are you okay? What’s going on? What feelings are you keeping from me?”

“Peter-”

“Please Y/N, just be honest with me.”

You looked at him with the saddest expression that he’s ever seen in his life. Your cheeks seemed hollow, your eyes were empty and sad. You weren’t yourself. How long had you been feeling this way?

“Ever since you became spiderman, it’s been so hard. I constantly feel left behind, you don’t have as much time to spend with me. I just sit in my room now watching the news, hoping that you’re still safe and alive. Then I see you in school the next day and you seem fine, but you don’t tell me anything. Then you go off and-” you paused, a coughing fit coming over you.

“And what?”

“You go and get distracted by Liz. You’re so infatuated with her, you don’t see that I’m standing right beside you, just like I’ve always been. I love you Peter. More than a friend, but you don’t see it.”

Peter stared at you horrified, guilt was creeping into his eyes.

“Y/N I-”

“It’s okay,” you coughed out. “You don’t have to love me. I've already accepted the fact that you never would. I just miss my best friend. We used to tell each other everything. But you've been keeping so much to yourself that I felt so helpless. What if something happened to you and I couldn't do anything about it. Or I never found out and one day you just disappeared."

He started to try and say something but you were hit with more coughs, each one worse than the last one. Blood appeared on your hand. You were dying. You didn't think that it would be so quick.

“Y/n, hang on. I’ll get us out of here,” Peter cried, trying to break free again. He was becoming frantic.

You slumped in your chair. You felt cold, your eyes were drooping, your head was fuzzy. You couldn’t think straight anymore. You looked tiredly at Peter who was trying to free his hands.

“I don’t want to die in here,” you whispered.

Peter froze, his eyes full of panic.

“No. I won’t let you die. You’re going to be fine, we’ll get out of here. I’m going to get you help.”

He managed to break the restraints on one of his hands before beginning on the other hand.

“Just stay awake for me please.”

You shook your head slightly.

“I can’t.”

He managed to get his other hand free and ran over to you.

“Alright, we’re going to get out of here.” He tried to help you up but you fell to the floor. He gathered you in his arms and tried to figure out a way out of the room.

“I love you Peter. I’m sorry.”

“No!” he screamed. “Y/N! Wake up! Please! Wake up, please wake up!” He buried his face into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(does any of this make sense? idk anymore)

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #tw: injury #tw: death

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elizabethvaughns · 3 years

Text

reasons why i absolutely adore the musical if/then and why you should watch it(or a recording) if you haven’t already

this might get a little long. please message me or something if you’d rather have a properly punctuated and spaced out version for whatever reason. i don’t want to inconvenience anyone.

ah yes the essay(kinda sorta not really) that absolutely no one has been waiting for which i used to get over my boredom in french and physics class. fun :)

alright people it’s if/then ramble time. again it’s a little long(i think it may be longer than essays i’ve written for school) so uhh it’s under the cut.

all righty let’s get started

1. the humor. while one or two jokes might be, well, to put it lightly, dated(like liz’s vaguely biphobic comment), they are, all in all, good jokes! some of my favorites include

“i’m a fucking great kindergarten teacher” “do you use language like that in class?” “only when it’s called for.”

“i don’t think it was fate so much as it was you”

and this is just from the first song! there are so, so many more.

2. the characters. i think it’s safe to say that to some degree, i can relate to most of them. more on that later. but even so, the most important thing is that they’re grounded in reality. each of them have virtues, shortcomings, biases, etc, etc. and it’s understandable and relatable because it’s human! i’ve noticed at times that characters end up being caricatures of a particular demographic. this is not the case here, and i’m, frankly, thankful for it.

3. the score. okay okay okay. it is absolutely amazing and beautiful and i’m here for it. the vocals? chef’s kiss. the music? chef’s kiss. the motifs? CHEF’S KISS. i love it when specific parts of the song, such as the music or just some lyrics get reprised to a different song. it just gives a sense of congruence and continuity to the whole thing. bonus points when it breaks my heart(like how the opening notes of “here i go” and the closing notes of “i hate you” sound eerily similar increasing the emotional impact).

3a. side note: as amazing as the songs are, i do need to admit that they truly show their magic when you properly know their context. allow me to explain. so before listening to any musical, i read the wikipedia synopsis so that (a) i have some amount of context before listening, and (b) i don’t get hit as hard emotionally when i finally end up listening to the soundtrack(now obviously that’s not the case--my eyes began to water during “unlikely lovers” of falsettos and “i hate you” of if/then during my watch throughs, for instance). well, i’m getting a bit off-track here. but anyways, i’m certain that people have expressed this before, but the wikipedia synopsis of if/then gave me absolutely zero useful context for listening to the songs. i was so confused half of the time! based on the synopsis, i thought that all songs following “what if?” (except for “surprise”, of course, which signified an intersection of timelines) were either exclusively liz songs or exclusively beth songs. for example: the songs that i thought were exclusively in the beth timeline include, “a map of new york”, “ain’t no man manhattan”(i explained my confusion in the tags of one of my reblogs this is already getting really long sorry), and “what the fuck?”; moreover, i thought “you learn to live without” was exclusively a liz song. also there’s a lot of dialogue in between stanzas of the song that’s not in the cast recording. so i guess what i’m saying is that if you have not watched/listened to it yet, watch first, listen later. don’t make the same mistake i made.

3b. another side note: this is absolutely not relevant but i came across a recording of the dc version over spring break and i watched it and can i just say <3 <3 <3. i can certainly see how it was improved over the years but i still love both versions equally :). also anne in her pantsuit in “this day” could step on me and i could thank her. my disaster bi ass goes brrr.

4. the lighting. pretty self-explanatory. i love how the lighting distinguishes between the timelines. also the “happy birthday elizabeth” banner that lights up different letters according to the timeline. beautiful.

5. the choreography. maybe i haven’t been looking in the right places but i haven’t seen much appreciation for this but...yeah. i’m in love with the choreography of this show! i don’t know why. it just strikes a chord with me. especially the scene near the end of “this day”. it’s so cute!

6. the representation! now this has most definitely been mentioned before by other folks, but i feel a need to highlight it as well. i guess this actually ties into my second point about the characters. it goes to prove how society is not homogeneous however it may appear to be. lovely.

7. and most of all, the ending. my absolute favorite part about the ending is the fact that it is somewhat ambiguous(i guess that’d be the best way to put it). there’s hope, especially in the beth timeline. i love how both timelines essentially cycle back to the beginning( “here’s how it starts / and here’s how it ends”) and “switches” the roles for both of them--liz gets the job while beth finds love. while i’m not a big fan of the job/love dichotomy, i do know that one can’t get it all all at once. so i’m glad that their arcs concluded with the beginning of the other’s arc. moreover, i love that liz/beth isn’t stuck in the what if’s and what not anymore and is, overall, more decisive. we love character development! and...about the ambiguity of the ending. i think this is one ending that i am happy about and that’s certainly saying something. i mean, the main reason for canon divergence fics is the fact that (a) someone’s character arc was severely messed up, or (b) someone died. well, yes, josh technically died but he is alive in the beth timeline, so that counts for something! and i don’t really feel the need to read any canon divergence fics(not considering the fact that they don’t exist! people please the fan fiction potential for this fandom is IMMENSE). so i guess what i have to say is i’m satisfied with the ending, a thing i can’t honestly say for many of the fandoms i’m in(...not gonna elaborate on that).

idk if i missed anything but i think that’s it.

#if then #if/then #here i go haha #please ignore the horrible punctuation it's for the aestheticTM #this is my first post in this tag !!#not gonna lie but i'm kinda nervous #idk why #wow 1k #this is definitely longer than my essay for english class(roughly 950ish words on average)

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fanfictin · 3 years

Text

Liz flicks through the Clone Wars for interactions between favourite disaster dad/brother and anger child and also maybe his ‘snippy?’ padawan

1-2

“Anakin, where are you?” said in the most long-suffering voice as obiwan holos anakin and ahsoka in their ship not following orders

1-3

“I hope you know what you’re doing, anakin” “Well, if I don’t, I won’t be around to hear the I told you so” “That’s reassuring...”

1-4

Subtly has never been one of your strong points, Anakin.

Everything I know, I learned from you, Master.

(why does obiwan keep saluting every time he runs from grevious)

You know we have GUNS. You can shoot back ANY TIME. -Anakin

(anakin still calling obiwan Master gives me life)

(also disaster gang really do call each other by Snips and Skyguy, huh)

1-5

“Still here, Anakin? When was the last time you slept?” (FUCK yes,, my favourite trope) [...] “Since then, he vanished.” “Well, unlike you, maybe he’s getting some much-needed rest” (the SASS. the CARE.)

1-6

“Suicide is not the jedi way, Master” asgfgdhkslfhsdalafl out of context that’s hysterical

(anyway none of these episodes are connected i have no idea what the fuck is happening or just happened at any point)

FINALLY some hurt/comfort. the classic “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” and blackout. nice.

awwwww ahsoshka trying to cheer up anakin and anakin just “you can’t replace r2″ i mean he’s right

Ahsoka has a green saber!! bless. love that.

1-7

Rex IS calling Ahsoka ‘Sir’. love it.

“Where’s R2 when i need him” awww ani

okay Grevious’ bodyguards are WAY harder to kill than that,, do you know how many times i have done that level in lego starwars,, I--

“Besides, R2 is more than a droid. He’s a friend.” 0,.0

1-11

ObiWan and Anakin their typical -anakin from the ceiling- anakin: oh it’s you obiwan: This is how you thank me for rescuing you? and THEN-- How am I supposed to become a jedi master if I’m getting caught all the time At least you’re a master of getting caught HYSTERICAL

it’s just Them on a mission. much love. i’m crey. they work so well together. “Why do I even try” that’s the obi wan exasperated abt his padawan that i know and love. crey.

BICKERING WHILE THEY CRASH LAND A SHIP. LOVE.

rock fall!! oh they’re fine. okay well the banter is pretty good and brief panic.

Anakin, when I tell you to run, Run. Master! You’re alive! And where is your lightsaber? It got knocked out of my hand. By a rock? Yeah. By a rock. You know what would be helpful? A little light. Certainly. -obiwans lightsaber doesn’t work- Silly thing. It was working just a minute ago. You don’t suppose it was hit... by a rock, do you? -obiwan dramatically points a finger and is abt to give his padawan a piece of his mind-

Anaking running away while Obwan is chill,, perfect. ObiWan helps at just the right time. they use the force together to put it down. PERFEDCT.

They get poison gassed and ahsoka rescues them and they just say it was fine I LOVE IT OH MY GOSH DISASTER TRIO

oh my gosh they knew the drinks were poisoned or whatever and switched them and they look so SMUG abt it--

okay write it down, 1-11 absolute favourite

1-12

okay never mind, they were drugged and wake up together caught. typical.

obiwan holding anger anakin back from yelling at count dooku. amazing.

“Do control your protege’s insolence so I can concentrate” “Anakin.” “WHAT” “Control your insolence. The count is concentrating” THE SASS

oh my gosh a very unusual trio. Dooku just like “I would kill you both rn if i didn’t have to drag your bodies” not bc they’re his enemies but bc of the banter and sass

getting electrocuted then immediately breaking each others bonds and fighting back. yes.

1-13

heck yes. anakin saving everyone and getting hurt himself? ahsoka going back for him? fuck yes. my shit.

so anakin does get hurt. badly. and WHY did i not find this on tumblr?? also,, ahsoka calling him anakin when he’s unconscious? fuck yes.

“I’ve certainly perfected the art of demolishing ships and getting my master killed” oh ahsoka you did so well dear one. she loves her master so much.

Rex does call ahsoka ‘kid’. i love.

the weak person just abt waking up and trying to get up bc danger and the one watching over him being worried and defending him? another favourite trope.

1-14

ooooo a straight up continuation. nice. anakin “you’re still too injured to move” oh the drama

an injury CONTINUING to impeded a character afterwards?? whoa. anakin rlly is the chosen one.

oooo stealth mission, this is exactly how i play a stealth thing like this!

LIGHTSABER GO WOOSH WOOSH BUZZ

1-15

snow time. pls let anakin complain abt the snow. someone get cold. pls. that’s all i ask. but either way, it’s anakin and obiwan mission time together again!

summary: that guy was dumb and i’m glad he died

1-16

anakin smashing several windows to get to obiwan in another tower. yes.

“How did YOU get over here” “I improvised”

1-17

“You seem a bit on edge” [...] “So yes, I’m a bit on edge!! Why aren’t you?” “I’m better at hiding it.” eyyyy

THEY WERE TALKING ON THE COMMS AND THEY JUST RAN INTO EACH OTHER IN A CROSS CORRIDOR and ahsoka just like “Master?”

disaster gang stop a virus and they’re all fine. ..good for them.. i gues.. just kidding, i love them

obiwan trying to calm anakin down abt padme and ahsoka but also knowing that anakin is rlly worried

“You just destroyed 17 defenseless battle driods without suffering a scratch” “18 actually”

1-18

“It was a trap Snips. It wasn’t your fault.” “Take heart, little one. That’s the reality of command” oh anakin you’re almost a good master

1-22

anakin gave his lightsaber to padme as a joke and now he’s trying to fight eithout it lol

he got shocked out and caught lol and padme is like hm can i show affection for an unconscious jedi without ppl thihnking hes my husband

“Please Ani. Wake up” wakes up like okay anyway let’s leave

okay it’s gone midnight and i have work and uni interview tomorrow,, that’s s1

#sw #clone wars #liz watches clone wars

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bestillmyslashyheart · 4 years

Text

map on your skin

Alex was late. The rest of the group was already settled in around Max’s living room by the time Alex finally sidled in, looking exhausted. He kept to the back of the room and nodded to Jenna to get started without bothering with pleasantries. Kyle tried to catch his eye to see if everything was okay but Alex avoided his gaze.

“Alright,” Jenna huffed, standing up. Next to her, Gregory shuffled a few large files and handed one to her. “This is what we found cleaning out the last of Jesse’s files. Mostly, it’s some nauseating research that I can promise you none of you want to look at,” Isobel and Max looked angry at the thought while Michael hunched in on himself, “but there is a decent amount of information that they managed to discern about where you guys come from and your powers and your anatomy, etcetera, etcetera…” She flipped open the folder in her hand. “And there are other bases.” Jenna whipped out a sheet that had a list of names followed by coordinates. “We’re not sure what, if anything, is still there, but there was definitely something there at one point.”

“We need to search them,” Isobel said immediately. She rose from her seat and ripped the paper from Jenna’s hand, earning herself a scowl that she promptly ignored. “There could be more people there, people like us.”

“Some of these places couldn’t hold prisoners, from what records we have they just weren’t equipped for it, but yes there are a few places that could have held other people at some point. But they all appear to be abandoned.”

“Caulfield appeared abandoned too,” Kyle had to point out. Jenna tipped her head in concession.

“There’s one more thing,” Gregory announced. He dropped his stack of files and unfolded a large piece of paper. Once open, he laid it on the table. Hurriedly, everyone grabbed their drinks and phones to clear some space.

Almost as one, they all stood up and leaned over it to look. “What is it?” Maria asked for the group.

Put simply, it was a mess. There were lines crisscrossing it all over the place with vague shapes underneath. Also, there were three large gaps, giant white spaces that broke up the lines.

“It’s a map,” Charlie answered. Everyone looked at her in confusion. She shrugged. “At least that’s what they believed.”

“A map to what?” Rosa scoffed. “It’s just lines.”

Isobel shook her head. “What are you talking about?” She reached out and dragged her finger across one of the lines. After a few inches her finger fell off the line until she was following something only she seemed to see. “It’s-”

“The stars,” Michael finished. He and Max leaned over further to look closely. “It’s an astronomical map.”

“I don’t recognize that star pattern,” Max mused. He turned his head to look at it from a different angle.

“Okay, what are you looking at?” Maria asked. The three aliens looked up at her. “It’s not a map, astronomical or otherwise.” She furrowed her brow. “It’s just a bunch of lines and blobs.”

Michael huffed. “It’s clearly a map.” He pointed at a blob. “This? This is-”

“We can’t see it,” Charlie cut him off. He glared at her but she ignored it. “It was made by some of the prisoners in Caulfield, and they could clearly read it, but humans can’t. Somehow, however they made it, it doesn’t translate in a way that our brains can comprehend. Whatever it is the three of you are seeing, we can’t.” She gestured at the humans in the room.

“What about the blank spots?” Max asked.

Gregory rifled through his folder. “Uh, they said something about…aha!” He pulled a sheet of paper out and read out, “The heirs will lead the way. Without them, hope is lost.”

“Well what does that mean?” Isobel huffed, crossing her arms. “Are we the heirs? Because we see big white spaces in the middle of this map.”

“Map to where?” Alex spoke up. Everyone turned to him but no one answered. “Where were they trying to go?”

“Does it matter?” Max sighed. “We’re missing half of it.”

Alex eyed the map strangely. Kyle watched him as Isobel and Michael started arguing with Max that of course it mattered. Behind them, Maria was pestering Jenna and Charlie as to why she couldn’t read it if she was part alien. On the opposite side of the table, Liz was oddly silent.

Suddenly, while Kyle was distracted by Rosa pulling out her sketch book and pencil, Alex crossed the room and forced himself gently in between the three aliens. The room fell quiet again.

Alex lifted up the edge of the paper and peeked at the back for a moment before flipping it. Rosa cursed as the edge of it came close to her face but she quickly grabbed it and helped Alex get it turned over.

“Alex, what are you doing?” Michael asked even as he too helped get it flat on the table. “What the…”

Kyle stood up again, unsure when he’d sat down. The map carried on to the back almost like it had bled through the paper but it looked different. A few blobs were in different places, a few lines missing or added.

Alex studied it carefully.

“How’d you know this was on the back?” Max asked, half an accusation in his voice.

Alex ignored him. He nudged Michael out of his way as he reached across the table to touch the two smaller white spots. “Liz?” He asked.

Everyone turned to Liz.

“Liz?” Max asked. Liz gave him a small smile before focusing on Alex, a considering look in her eyes. She didn’t move at first, her and Alex communicating silently over the expanse of the table. After a long moment in which the room seemed to hold its breath she leaned over and tapped the spot under Alex’s right hand.

“You’re sure?” Alex asked.

Liz held her hand up and waved it back and forth. “I’d have to check but I’m pretty sure.” She shrugged. “I’m not a cartographer so I could be wrong.” She jerked her chin at him in question. “You?”

Alex straightened up and tapped the large white spot in the middle.

“You’re sure?” Liz asked. There was a teasing lilt to her voice. Alex smirked and nodded. Liz sighed and tapped the third spot. “What about this one?”

“Might have to wait on that.” Alex started to fold it the paper up but Michael and Isobel both reached out and grabbed it.

“Woah what are you doing?” Isobel said.

Michael waved a hand between Alex and Liz. “What was that?”

Alex stared at Michael. “Do you trust me?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Not right now.”

Michael stared at him for a moment but Alex didn’t blink. Finally, Michael let go with a huff. “Fine. Do whatever.”

Isobel looked at him. “Not. Not fine. This is ours.”

“And you’ll get it back,” Alex promised, tugging it gently from her hands and folding it up. I just need it for a few days first.” Isobel glared but a sharp look from Michael kept her mouth shut.

“Anything else?” Alex asked Jenna, Gregory, and Charlie. The three of them shook their heads. “Then I’m heading out. Good night!” He slipped out the door before anyone could stop him, the map firmly in hand.

“What the hell was that Liz?” Rosa asked as the door shut behind Alex.

Liz shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.” She looked at her watch. “It’s late.” It was barely 8pm. “I should go.” She leaned up to press a quick kiss to Max’s cheek. “Night guys!” With a wave behind her head, Liz followed Alex out the door.

—

Liz had only been to Alex’s house once since he’d been home but she didn’t have any trouble finding it. The Christmas lights on the tree out front, despite the fact that it was April, definitely helped. She parked next to Alex’s car and hurried to the front door, not bothering to lock the car behind her.

“Alex!” She called, knocking loudly.

“It’s open!” A distant call replied immediately. Liz tried the door and found it unlocked as promised and stepped inside.

“Should I lock it?” She asked.

“Up to you,” Alex replied. “I’m sure they’re right behind you and Michael will get in either way.” Liz left it unlocked.

The light in the dining room called Liz like a moth to a flame. She found Alex hunched over the table, cleared of everything but the map, with a marked stuck between his teeth and pencil in his hand. He had already started sketching in a few lines.

“Alex.”

Alex’s hand stilled. He hesitated, clearly considering his options, before he dropped the pencil and sank back onto a chair with a heavy sigh. He took the marker out of his mouth. “Liz.”

All of a sudden, Liz didn’t know what to say. She pulled out a chair and dropped heavily into it. “Alex.”

The corner of Alex’s mouth quirked upwards. “If you’re not going to ask…”

“Michael’s your soulmate.” It wasn’t the question it maybe should have been. It wasn’t a question at all.

“Yes.” It was said simply. Like there wasn’t a mountain of baggage that came with it. Like Michael hadn’t been dating Maria off and on for months.

What Liz wanted to say was ‘why did you never say anything?’, ‘why was Michael with Maria?’, ‘why aren’t you and Michael together?’, ‘how long have you known?’, ‘were you ever going to admit it?’, but what she said was, “Alex.”

Somehow Alex heard all the unasked questions. “It was easier.”

Liz didn’t understand that.

“Why haven’t you admitted it?” He asked. “It’s not like it’d be a surprise,” he teased gently.

She shrugged. “It never came up.” And it hadn’t. Everything had happened so fast and there had been the revelation of what happened with Rosa ten years ago, and then Max was dead and Rosa was alive, and then she got Max back only for things to get crazy with her dad, and it just never seemed like a good time. Announcing you’d found your soulmate, that you’d met your match, was supposed to be a time of celebration and Liz hadn’t really felt like making a big deal. It deserved to be special, it deserved an event, but there hadn’t been a good time for it.

Alex nodded like he understood.

“When did you know?” She asked quietly.

“First time I came back,” Alex answered. “After basic training, before my first posting. It, uh, it was about six months after graduation?”

“That was ten years ago.”

“It was.”

“How could you- I mean, why didn’t you-?”

Alex shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

Liz accepted that. Up until tonight, the only information she had on Alex’s relationship with Michael had come from Maria so she knew she was missing more than a few key bits of trivia. “You know,” she started after a long silence, “the first time I saw it? And realized what it was? I freaked out.”

“Yeah?” Alex laughed.

Liz nodded with a little laugh of her own. “Yeah,” she agreed. “It was right around when I found out what had happened to Rosa. I, uh, I walked in on him accidentally while he was getting ready for work and I saw it and I just…ran. Went home, drank a lot, and ignored it. Right then, he was the guy who framed my sister for an accident that killed two other girls and he’d covered it up for ten years. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that he was my soulmate too.”

She could still remember it vividly. Max had come around the corner in just his boxers, not having heard her come in or call his name, and splashed across his thigh was his mark. She was pretty sure she’d seen it once in high school, or at least the part of it that covered the top of his knee, but it hadn’t solidified then. But that day it was clear as could be, a mess of images on a grid background that should have been an amorphous blob to her eyes. That for a moment, she had wished was an amorphous blob. Because a person’s mark was only a solid image to their soulmate, to the rest of the world it was like a bastardized Rorschach test, and in that moment Liz had wanted nothing less than for Max Evans to be her soulmate. So she’d turned on her heel and ran out the door. It was only weeks later that she let herself get up close and personal with it.

Until today, Liz had never seen anything else like it in the world. It vaguely resembled a map but nothing quite like any she’d ever seen. Not until Gregory Manes unfolded an alien map that humans shouldn’t be able to read but Liz saw clear as day. Equally clear was the blank white spot on the side where Max’s mark would fit perfectly. It was the same size, same markings.

Three cars pulled up outside. The engines cut out and the doors slammed shut. Liz counted silently to ten. On six, Alex’s front door swung open.

“Alex!” Michael yelled.

Alex didn’t answer. He and Liz sat silently as the heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway until Michael appeared in the doorway. “What the hell?” Michael greeted.

“Hi,” Alex greeted with a glare.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Yeah, hi. You knew we were coming, you left the door unlocked.” Max and Isobel filed in behind him. “So tell us.”

Max looked to Liz, the question clear in his eyes. Liz looked to Alex, silently ceding the floor to him.

Alex stood up, his back straight and shoulders square. “Liz and I can read the map. And we each have one of the missing pieces.”

“How?” Isobel asked.

“Because they’re yours,” Liz answered. Isobel and Max turned to her in question but Michael hardly glanced her way.

“Alex?”

Alex sighed. “The missing pieces are your marks.” He pointed at the one Liz had identified earlier. “According to Liz, Max’s mark fits this blank space here. And this,” he pointed at the large one in the middle, “is yours, Guerin.”

“What are you talking about?” Isobel asked. “How do you know that? They said humans can’t read it.”

“I guess since we’re your soulmates and can see your marks, we can see the map? And where they fit in?” Liz looked to Alex and Alex shrugged. “Best guess?”

Max and Isobel turned to Alex then Michael. The sudden synchronicity was disconcerting. “What?” They both asked.

Alex arched an eyebrow. “Thought you said they knew?”

Michael shifted under everyone’s gaze. “It’s not like we talked about it but they knew.”

“Clearly they didn’t.”

“You really want to get into who knew and who didn’t?” Michael shot back.

Alex lifted a hand in concession. “Look, the important thing is Liz and I can fill in the missing pieces from yours and Max’s marks but we’ll still have a blank space unless…” he turned to Isobel.

“Don’t look at me, I’m the one in the room not hiding a secret soulmate.”

“I wasn’t hiding anything!” Max immediately protested. “You knew!”

“Yeah but not because you told me!” Isobel yelled back. “I had to figure that one out on my own.”

Liz tuned them out as she focused on Michael and Alex. She still hadn’t quite processed the revelation that they were soulmates, that they’d known for ten years they were soulmates and done nothing with that knowledge. The two men were communicating silently across the table, both leaning in towards each other but neither saying a word. Finally, Michael looked down at the map and traced the few pencil lines that Alex had started sketching in.

“You do this from memory?” He sounded disbelieving.

“You forget what mine looks like?” Alex asked, eyebrow arched.

“No but yours is a lot smaller.” Michael smiled. Alex rolled his eyes.

“Wait,” Liz sat forward. “How big is yours?” She’d never seen it but- “If it’s comparable to Max’s,” she traced the outline of the white space where Max’s mark fit and it was true to size, “how is yours…?”

Michael rolled his eyes and started tugging off his shirt. His undershirt quickly followed, hitting Isobel in the face as he tossed it aside.

“So gross,” she muttered as she flung it away. Liz didn’t hear her though because Michael turned around and showed her his back.

The entire expanse, from the tops of his shoulders down under the waistband of his jeans and curled over both his sides, was mess of mottled black ink. Liz couldn’t make sense of it because there were no spaces, it was like someone had slathered Michael’s whole back in black paint and just smudged the edges.

Liz whistled lowly. She’d never seen one so large. Most were much smaller. Even Max’s, which covered the space from his knee up to his hip, was considered large. Michael’s was huge.

Michael gave her another second to look and then he started to tug on his shirt, the undershirt forgotten on the floor.

“No.” Michael stopped immediately at Alex’s command. Liz looked over to see him with pencil in hand already sketching in more lines. Michael craned his neck to see over his shoulder.

“Really?” He asked. “You want to do this now?”

“Well you’ve already got your shirt off.”

“If you want me to take my shirt off, darlin’, all you gotta do is ask,” Michael leered. Alex shot him an icy look that froze Michael in his track’s. Instantly, his face fell into a frown and he turned to stare at the wall opposite.

Liz cleared her throat. “Do you have another pencil?”

Alex gestured behind him to cup full of writing utensils. Liz scoured through it until she found an already sharpened pencil and then turned back to the silent crowd. “Alright take your pants off.”

“Woah, what?”

“Hold on.”

“I’m out.” Isobel threw her hands up and left the room. “Have fun with your art project!” The door slammed shut behind her.

Michael glared at Max. “Leave the pants on.” Max rolled his eyes at him.

“Where exactly is Max’s mark?” Alex asked hesitantly. Max ran a hand over his thigh. “And how far up does it go?” He turned to Liz.

Liz considered it. “Probably best if we do that at home.” She looked down at the map. “His is smaller-”

“Yeah it is,” Michael interjected.

“Oh my god are you twelve?” Alex huffed. Michael smirked.

“As I was saying,” Liz continued, “the space for Max’s mark is a lot smaller so it might be easier if I do his first and then give it back to you to do Michael’s.”

“That would make sense,” Alex agreed slowly, looking down. Still, he hesitated.

“No?”

Alex flipped the pencil over in his hand and tapped the part he’d started sketching. “I’ve already started and Michael’s already here and ready, so why don’t I keep it tonight and work on it a bit and then I’ll bring it to you tomorrow. You can keep it as long as you need and then once you’re done I can finish up.”

Liz checked with Max and shrugged. “That works. After all, there really isn’t a rush, right? Since we don’t have Isobel’s section?”

“That’s true,” Max acknowledged. Michael seemed antsy though. “It doesn’t have to happen tonight.”

“In that case, why don’t you just keep it until you’re done and then pass it along?” Liz suggested.

“That works, too.”

“So are we doing this tonight or what?” Michael huffed. Alex nodded. “Okay then.” He spun around and sat on the edge of the table, back to Alex. “Sketch your heart out.”

“You two do that and let us know when you’re finished.” Max looked to Liz. “We skipped dessert?”

Liz smiled. “Don’t worry, I know a guy who makes great milkshakes.” He smiled back at her. She stood up and looked around for her keys before remembering she’d dropped them on the table in the hallway on her way in. “You two need anything before we go?” Michael and Alex shook their heads.

“Have a good night,” Alex looked up from the map and gave her a small smile that Liz returned.

“Good night, guys.” She squeezed Michael’s bare shoulder in goodbye as she walked by.

“Night!” He called after them.

–

The house was eerily silent once Max and Liz left, the scratches of the pencil on paper the only sounds.

Alex worked steadily for about five minutes before Michael started fidgeting. “Guerin.”

“It’s too quiet.”

Alex pulled out his phone and hit play on his latest playlist, the music flowing a second later. “Now sit still. This needs to be exact.”

Michael was a perfect model for a little over ten minutes. And then he opened his mouth. “You told Liz.”

“Would you prefer I didn’t and left your map incomplete?” Alex shifted to get a better view of the part wrapped around Michael’s left side.

“You’ve never told anyone.”

Alex shaded in one of the shapes he’d just outlined. Once he thought it might have represented a landmass but now he’s pretty sure it’s a planet. “Neither have you.” They’d never discussed it, not really, but they’d each come to the same conclusion, that their marks were theirs and no one else’s. So no one else needed to know.

“Well secret’s out now.”

Alex hummed. He couldn’t quite see where the next line ended so he reached out without a thought and gently pulled at Michael’s skin to get a better look. Michael sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything, his back muscles tensing under Alex’s hand. Alex ignored it.

“So who’s gonna tell Maria?” Alex froze, the pencil digging into the paper.

“What?” He asked, certain he’d misheard Michael.

“I said who’s gonna tell Maria?” Michael looked over his shoulder. “Because I doubt the others are going to come up with some other reason for how we fill in the missing spaces. They know which means everyone is gonna know which means Maria’s going to find out one way or another.”

“She’s your girlfriend,” Alex reminded him coldly. “You should be the one to tell her.”

“She’s your best friend.”

“Eh,” Alex replied. “She’s my friend, yes, but we’re not nearly as close as we used to be. And again, you’re the one dating her. The person responsible for telling her her boyfriend already found his match is her boyfriend.” He poked Michael with the eraser. “That means you.”

Michael sighed. “I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“This thing with her is easy, that’s why I like it.”

“I know.”

“Bringing soulmates into it complicates things.”

Having a soulmate didn’t seem to complicate things all that much, Alex didn’t say. What he said instead was, “I know,” because he did, because Michael had told him as much every time the subject came up. “You still need to talk to her, though.”

Michael let out a breath and hunched over, his elbows on his knees.

“Guerin,” Alex admonished. “Stop moving.”

But Michael stood up. “I need a drink.”

“You really don’t.”

“I really do.”

He left the room and a moment later Alex heard his cabinet door open and shut. Just the one because Michael knew his way around Alex’s house nearly as well as Alex did.

Alex dropped the pencil onto the table with a clatter and followed. Michael greeted him with a glass of his own which Alex took and quickly drained before placing in the sink. “What’s the problem?”

Michael scoffed. “There’s no problem.”

“Guerin.”

“You told Liz.”

“I didn’t actually but she’s smart enough to figure it out on her own and I didn’t bother wasting my breath correcting her.” Alex drummed his fingers on the counter. “And so what if I did? I can’t tell my friend about my soulmate? I need your permission?”

“I thought we would decide together before telling anyone,” Michael confessed petulantly.

Alex blinked in surprise. “When the hell did we agree to that?”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Oh well it wasn’t.” Alex took a deep breath. “I’m sorry we didn’t wait until you got here to discuss it but I won’t apologize for telling her.”

Michael huffed. “Course not.” He drained his glass and placed it next to Alex’s. “Back to the art project.”

Alex paused a few minutes in the kitchen. Normally, he loved being around Michael, even when they weren’t getting along, even when it hurt, but there was a tension in the air that he didn’t like. He didn’t understand where it was coming from but he knew a powder keg when he saw it and right now they were one.

“Alex!”

When Alex walked back into the dining room it was to find a naked Michael Guerin perched on the edge of his table. Alex stopped and stared, he couldn’t help it. No matter how many times he’d seen it, the view still took his breath away. Part of it was just Michael, absolutely, but part of it was the mark in its entirety. It covered the top of Michael’s ass, enough so that he really couldn’t display it unless he took his pants off, so Alex didn’t always get to see all of it. “I wasn’t doing that part yet.”

Michael smirked. “Well now you can.”

Alex made himself focus on the work for as long as possible but when he had to touch Michael to position him correctly for Alex to see everything, all hope was lost.

The second his hand grabbed at Michael’s ass, Michael arched his back and pressed into it.

“Guerin,” he warned. Or tried to.

Michael smirked. “You’re the one with your hand on my ass, darlin’.” Alex quickly removed his hand. Michael rolled his eyes and stood up, turning around to face Alex. Alex dropped his eyes low before forcing them up to Michael’s face. That damnable smirk was firmly in place.

“You have a girlfriend.”

Michael shrugged. “Only technically. We’ve barely talked in weeks, haven’t had sex in like two months. It’s done with we just haven’t actually said it yet.” He rounded the table. “Besides. You’re my soulmate.”

He stepped in close. Alex didn’t move away. “You were pissed at me a few minutes ago.”

“I’m still a little pissed,” Michael admitted. “So what?”

Alex pressed a hand into the center of his chest and pushed Michael back a step. “We’re not having sex.”

Michael arched an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “No?”

“We’re working on your map,” Alex reminded him. “That’s it.”

“Alex,” Michael groaned. He grabbed onto where Alex was still pressing against his chest with one hand and looped a finger through Alex’s belt loop with the other. One sharp tug and they were pressed flush against each other.

Their lips brushed against each other in a whisper of a kiss before Alex pulled away. “If you don’t want to work on the map then we should call it a night.”

Michael looked upset. “So that’s it, huh?”

“What’s it?”

“We can tell people we’re soulmates but we can’t act like it?”

Alex stared at him. “Don’t.” His voice was hard. “You were the one who wanted nothing to do with me. You were the one who decided to date someone else. You were the one who said we shouldn’t be together. You don’t get to get angry at me for following your lead.”

Michael stared at him, his shoulders rigid with tension, before giving a sharp nod. “Fine. Right. My lead.” He stalked around the table, his clothes flying up from the floor to meet his hands mid-stride. Alex watched him tug on his boxers and jeans, his movements jerky.

“Michael,” he sighed.

“We can do the map another time,” Michael replied without looking at him. “Like they said, without Isobel’s soulmate there’s really no rush.” He shoved his feet into his boots. Michael grabbed his hat and plopped it on his head. “Good night, Alex.” His shirt was still in his hands when he disappeared down the hallway.

Alex groaned softly in the empty room. The front door opened. “Guerin!” The front door closed. Alex stepped into the hallway. It was dark but the lights from outside framed Michael’s hunched form well enough for Alex to see. “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s early,” Michael replied in surprise.

“It is,” Alex agreed. “Might have to lay there for a bit. Could get boring.”

Michael half turned back towards him. “Sounds like you could use some company.”

Alex hummed. “Probably could.” He turned and headed for his bedroom. “Lock the door and turn the lights off.” By the time Alex reached his room, Michael was right behind him. “No sex.”

“What?”

Alex took his pants off and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his prosthetic. “No sex.”

Michael hesitated in the doorway. “Fine.”

“Fine.” He set his prosthetic aside. “Take your pants off.”

“You just said-”

“I want to see it,” Alex rolled his eyes. He slid under the covers, his own clothes littering the floor to be picked up later. Michael helpfully shed the clothes he’d just put on and got in on the other side of the bed.

Alex gave him a moment to get comfortable on his stomach before he shoved the covers down far enough that they only covered their legs and shifted onto his side. Carefully, he reached over and started tracing the lines of Michael’s mark. Michael shivered under the light touch but made no move to stop him.

Slowly, Alex made his way down Michael’s back, making sure to touch each line, every shape. When his finger had mapped the expanse, he leaned over and started again, this time with his lips. It was an old habit, one he’d started the very first time he’d seen it, and it never failed to relax them both.

He knew every inch of Michael’s back. He knew it in his fingertips and in his lips. Every single marking was etched into memory, he’d hardly needed Michael to model it for him earlier.

When he was finished, he stayed slumped over Michael’s back, his lips pressed to the planet at the base of Michael’s neck. In response, Michael, now a mostly boneless lump beneath him, turned his face to the side and craned his neck to reach Alex’s arm. In this position, he could just reach the mark nestled in the crook of Alex’s left arm. His mark was substantially smaller than Michael’s; a tiny, detailed planet with a sky full of stars behind it. When it first appeared, Michael had tried searching for the planet in the sky by using the stars as a guide but they didn’t match up with any known pattern. Alex had long accepted that it wasn’t anything specific, more an idea.

“Why isn’t it easy?” Michael asked quietly. “It’s supposed to be easy, right? Find your soulmate, live happily ever after. That’s how the stories go.”

“We’re not a story.” Alex traced the cluster of planets nestled over Michael’s hip. “We’re real, Michael. And if we want this to mean something, to be worth something, we have to work at it.”

Michael didn’t say anything for a long while. “Nothing worth having ever came easy.”

“No. It didn’t,” Alex agreed. He pressed a lingering kiss to the nape of Michael’s neck and rolled off of him. “Guess we need to decide if we’re worth it.”

Michael kissed Alex’s mark. “We are.”

#malex fic #rnm #my fic #hey look its another soulmate au from yours truly #*shocked*#long post #in case the read more doesnt work because who tf knows

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lambourngb · 4 years

Text

This Hard Truth

Fic prompt: “Are you drunk?”

THIS HARD TRUTH picks up immediately after THIS HARD LIE, an AU that explores the changes to Roswell and Michael if Alex had decided to tell the Air Force to go pound sand. It’s not all roses. Also folks, not sure if I’ve said, but I’ve been writing these each day literally from scratch off an old vague outline I abandoned a year ago, and today’s the first one that I’ve struggled with, so there’s your warning. Once Michael Guerin Week is over, this is going to a beta and will find a home on AO3. Thank you for loving the raw story.

****

The solid black Range Rover parked in front of his Airstream didn’t surprise Michael in the least.

It had been three days since Jesse Manes had succumbed to his terminal cancer diagnosis, those final days silent under a steady morphine drip. The doctors were correct with their less than a month pronouncement which had left Michael with the uncomfortable position of hoping that Jesse was going to defy those odds. It was a win-win of extended suffering for a man who had earned that and it would have kept Alex in Roswell longer.

He had seen Alex exactly seven times since that first night at the Wild Pony, all of them casual spontaneous encounters that became less spontaneous after he’d learned the nursing rotation of Manes brothers and home care staff. He’d shuffled his jobs at the garage to leave openings in schedule and stopped eating at home during the nights he knew Alex would be free, emptying out his dining out jar.

This was a species thing, he had reminded himself as a curl of guilt had started to squirm inside him at the level of low-key stalking he had done to see his ex. Between Max’s somber admission that he still could remember in crystal-clear detail the day Liz Ortecho touched his lip almost eight years ago in high school and the reaction one of Michael’s attempts at dating had to his story of showing up on Alex’s doorstep two years after a breakup with no warning, well he was aware this wasn’t a normal intensity. The date with wide eyes picking up their phone, even though it hadn’t made a noise, saying, “You seem like a nice guy, but I need to take this call, it’s probably work, we can try again some other time-”

That was the proper reaction to his story he learned, not nodding sagely like Max had and encouraging him to go in the first place.

Humans couldn’t calculate within a minute the amount of time they had recently spent with someone the way Michael could. It was a full commitment of energy to stay carefully friendly with Alex, to keep his alien focus under wraps even though he probably tipped his cards that day in Nashville. On his good days he told himself that Alex hadn’t called the cops on him because he’d been happy to see Michael and on his bad days, it was because he didn’t want the press.

With Jesse Manes dead, Alex’s reasons for staying in Roswell were over. It was time to say goodbye to this small interlude of where Michael felt completely himself, brimming in mitochondrial buoyancy with every cell alive and sparking. Back to the cards of Hallmark blandness and the short notes of congratulations after a song does well.

Alex looked up from his casual sprawl in the lawn chair, his phone in hand, and smiled at Michael’s approach, “thought I might return the favor, and show up at your door unannounced. I gotta say, an Airstream at Sanders’ was not what I was expecting as Casa de Guerin.”

Suddenly aware of the dark stain of dirt staining his cuticles, Michael shoved his hands in his pockets as he strolled up to him. Everywhere he looked was a reminder of the divide, from the shiny Range Rover Sport to the smooth manicure and high-end clothing that wrapped Alex’s frame. “What did you expect then, bedroll in my truck again?”

“Whoa,” Alex stood up, pocketing his phone to hold his hands up harmlessly. “Sorry, that’s not what I mean, I was referring to the doctor boyfriend you’ve got. Most doctors I’ve met are about the trappings, it looks like you found a good one that likes you as you.” Alex’s smile wavered, “I’m happy for you.”

Now even more off-balanced, Michael sputtered, “wait, I don’t-”

“I’m less happy it’s Kyle Valenti, but I guess it’s possible he’s changed, or received a personality transplant-”

“Holy shit who have you been talking to?” He finally cut in, looking over his shoulder back to the office at the auto yard, half expecting to see Isobel being helpful. She had never quite forgiven Alex for finding happiness in Nashville, and it would be just like her to spin a version of events to make Alex jealous. As if that was possible, even in a universe where Michael was capable of being a Stepford boyfriend worthy of a doctor, nothing compares to the life Alex has built without him. Not even zero-percent body fat doctors who did know quite a bit of anatomy. The mention of Kyle did remind Michael that he hadn’t heard very much from him since that last night shortly before Alex had rolled into town. “We’ve seen each other a few times now, Alex, I would have told you if I had a boyfriend. Anyway, Kyle has changed, but he’s not- we’re weirdly enough friends.”

A pang of longing shot through him at seeing Alex arch his eyebrow at him in judgment. “That is not what Maria says, or Arturo, or Old Man Sanders for that matter.”

“Well, they are wrong.” Michael said firmly, stepping around Alex leaving a careful amount of space as he flipped open the lid of his cooler for a beer. “It’s not like that okay? I don’t have a Dennis and a dog in my life, it’s casual and fun but nothing more.”

“I wish I was sad about hearing that, but I’m not.”

Michael paused in the middle of popping the cap off his bottle, “Wow, thank you.” That stung more than he was expecting to hear that Alex was happy he was alone. Fame and fortune really did change people. Swallowing the lump in his throat, “Listen, I’ve loved seeing you Alex, and the less said about your dad the better, so thanks for coming by to say goodbye and eh, enjoy Nashville,” he grabbed the knob on his Airstream door to flee.

A hand covered his, keeping the door firmly closed against the frame. Michael cursed his species for the thousandth time as the touch sent waves of weakness through him. Alex leaned in close, too close for just friendly words, “Wait, that came out wrong.”

“Did it?”

“Yes,” Alex stated firmly. He held onto Michael’s hand, stepping into the space between them to block the retreat into the Airstream. This was the closest they had been to one another in four years, not since that last fight the morning before Alex’s flight east that ended with fucking on a bare mattress after Michael had packed their sheets for Alex to take. “Coming back here, seeing everyone, um, seeing you, it reminded me of who I was before I became this guy,” he gestured at his clothes and back toward the expensive car vaguely. “I’ve got all these things now, useless things, that when I look in the mirror, I see my dad, a guy who cared more about a uniform than he did his own kids.”

“Alex, you could never be him, I don’t care if you become more famous than McCartney, it’s just not possible.”

Whatever Alex saw on his face made him shake his head gently in response, “I don’t get it, you still look at me like you did when we were dumb kids surviving on ramen, like nothing’s changed at all.”

“Nothing has changed for me,” Michael insisted firmly, bringing the open and almost forgotten beer to his lips. A merger shield to employ. It was pretty clear that nothing ever would and that was his reality. It was as true now as it was when he had borrowed a guitar from the music room at seventeen. “But you knew that already, that’s why we broke up, remember? Things were changin’ for you, you were goin’ to bigger places than Roswell, and that’s a good thing. A great thing even.”

“I know. You should know that I’m not going back to Tennessee right now, Michael.”

“What?”

“There’s no Dennis, I mean, not anymore. That kinda fizzled out after your visit, and the dog was his,” Alex kept his hand over Michael’s, slowly moving it up to circle his fingers around his wrist, “I do miss the dog, she was sweet.”

“Your house-” Michael started, his pulse back to pounding senselessly in his ears.

“That was mine but I sublet it to a guy I know who’s doing session work at the studio while I was here. I just let him convert the sublet into a lease.”

“And your agent?”

“Dealing with the fact I’m taking my first sabbatical in four years,” Alex finished smoothly, an answer ready for every disbelieving question that Michael could muster about his house and life. He took a step back, as if he was suddenly aware of how he had crowded him against the warm metal door of the Airstream.

There was just one question left to ask though, as Michael studied Alex’s face intently. The transparent way his eyes kept flickering from the beer bottle against Michael’s mouth and then away. “If you’re not here to say goodbye to me, then why are you here?” he asked challengingly, raising his beer back to his mouth to finish with a full lipped suggestive swallow.

Gauntlet dropped and accepted as Alex surged forward to press Michael against the door and kiss him. The glass bottle dropped uselessly to the ground, glancing off the metal steps as Michael reached behind him to turn the knob quickly. He stepped backward, letting Alex crowd him through the doorway, chasing his mouth hungrily.

The metal door slapped hard against the door jamb, as Michael fell back on his mattress.

Alex gulped audibly for air from the break, pulling back to tug off his v-neck shirt over his head and then stilled as he took in the state of Michael’s small bed. His eyes widened, scrutinizing the setup and Michael had to look away in embarrassment, knowing exactly what Alex had just recognized. “You goddamn liar! When I said I didn’t want our sheets to take with me, you said you were going to burn them!”

“Yeah, well, it seemed wasteful.”

Michael leaned back on the thin mattress, ripping his own shirt off to toss carelessly on the floor. He watched as Alex reached down to unbutton his pants. The yellow light from the trailer window brushed a gold glow of Alex’s half naked torso. He drank in the small, subtle changes in Alex’s body, like the corded strength in his torso that spoke of some sort of workout. Probably yoga or dancing maybe. The playful outrage on Alex’s face slowly changed over to a dawning realization as he took in the details of the small and cramped surroundings.

This was why Michael never brought anyone back here. All around were the skeleton remains of that first apartment together. The same dishes in the tiny sink. The same cheap poster advertising Warp Tour was taped to the back of the wooden built-in dresser. The same stupid classic car clock that Alex had brought home, after Maria had bought the Wild Pony and upgraded the decor, all because the cars reminded him of Michael.

Everywhere in the Airstream was some piece of memorabilia from those three years together. It was as close to a shrine to their relationship that Michael could build without setting out candles and a full altar.

“Holy shit, you really do love me.”

“Uh, yeah,” Michael rubbed at the back of his head ruefully, before laying back to accept Alex’s warm weight over him. He closed his eyes as Alex kissed him, turning his head upward as those long, musician fingers tangled in his hair. Gasping softly, he confessed, “Never did figure out how to stop.”

“My dad was wrong, I mean, I knew he was- but he was so convinced that your species weren’t capable of it-” Alex stopped abruptly, aware almost immediately that Michael had gone rigid under him.

Dimly Michael realized that Alex was still talking but nothing registered after ‘your kind’. It was subterfuge earlier, when Alex joked that first night about his father being a lunatic lost in the ravages of a brain tumor. He believed Jesse, worse he seemed to know that Jesse was right, that Michael was different.

Cool palms cupped Michael’s face, pulling him away from his spiraling thoughts. Any hope of laughing off the response was gone with the serious look in Alex’s eyes. “Hey. I don’t care, okay? You are still the first person, hell the only person, I’ve ever loved completely. Where you came from doesn’t matter to me. I know who you are-”

“And you know what I am.”

“Yes.”

***

Michael stared up at the ceiling of his trailer not daring to look sideways at Alex, who was pressed as close he could get against Michael on the narrow bunk. After a soft acknowledgment that he knew that Michael wasn’t alone, that he’d figured out that Max and Isobel had to be the same even though his father had died believing only Michael was an alien, Michael told him everything.

The crash, the pod, the years in the system, the knowledge that he was different and the fear that came with that knowledge. The fact he has powers, that they all do. The joy he had in finding Max and Isobel again at eleven even though he didn’t trust why he felt that way toward them. Then the vow they had made for absolute secrecy. “Not even Noah knows about Isobel, and they’ve been married four years now.”

“And Max? He never told anyone either?”

“His partner knows Jenna Cameron but that wasn’t planned. They were driving back to the station after a long circuit patrol for speeders and got caught up rescuing some people from a flash flood. The Berrendo. Cam got hit by a tree branch, femoral artery, and yeah, Max healed her. No one saw him because it was a dark night, but healing leaves a handprint. Impossible to deny it.”

Alex ran his hand absently through Michael’s chest hair, soothing them both. “It was a relief when my dad had Flint show me the evidence.”

“A relief?” Michael joked weakly, his mouth twitching upward in the effort. “Low key worried now that learning I’m an alien was a relief to you.”

“I thought the novelty of being with me had worn off. I mean, my choice after telling the Air Force to fuck off was starving to death or splitting expenses with you for rent. I figured after 3 years, you were ready to move on, so you let me go.” Alex reached up to cover Michael’s mouth with his palm briefly. “I know how that sounds, but you have to understand, before you? No one had ever loved me. My mom left when I was eight. I mean, maybe my older brothers did for a bit when I was little and cute? At least until I was thirteen and my dad started singling me out. He would kick my ass in front of them, daring them to protest, and they didn’t. I didn’t even love me.”

“Alex,” Heartbreak was in every syllable. “I never wanted to let you go-”

“I know, I’m just saying, I could finally believe it when Flint handed me a piece of a 70-year-old spaceship.”

“Dropping in on you with no warning a couple of years ago wasn’t a clue?”

Alex pursed his lips together, and laid his head on Michael’s shoulder. “Honestly I had spent two years telling myself that you didn’t give a shit, and then when you showed up, I thought it was because I was making a name. All sorts of people come out of the woodwork when the first taste of fame comes along. Then you confused me, because you left and started sending me these terribly boring greeting cards.”

“Fuck off, I spent forever picking out those cards,” Michael protested with a laugh. “I was trying to show you that I had chill, that I wouldn’t boil a bunny or stalk your social media.”

“Well you succeeded, I did keep all your cards though. It might have been a factor for Dennis moving out,” Alex joked in return before sobering with a tired sigh, “but little did you know, the real stalkers here were my family. Ever since 1947, a Manes man has been tasked in protecting humanity from your kind, starting with my great-grandfather Harlan, and ending with my brother Flint.”

Michael echoed the sigh, tucking Alex closer to him. The idea of the government, especially the United States Military, believing in aliens was enough to send his pulse rattling upward with fear. Every fear made real.

“On the bright side, my dad is dead, so that’s one less Manes hunting you.”

“What’s the other side?”

“I thought my brother was in Germany except he’s been stateside for the last five years working with my dad. He’s a weapons expert, and he’s so important to the project that the military forwarded his mail to Germany for the proper postmarks.”

“Well fuck.”

***

The next day, Michael took a rare sick day from work and guided Alex out to the desert to the cave to show him the pods, where his story had begun according to his memory. Then it was Alex’s turn for show and tell, as he directed Michael to the abandoned air base.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get in, but Flint calls it Project Shepherd. It was Dad’s center of operations in Roswell. He tapped into all the traffic cameras and even planted one on the gate to Sanders’ Auto,” Alex explained as he stepped out of his Range Rover. “You fixing cars must have bored the shit out of him.”

Weeds and scrub grass covered the broken pavement of the air base, lending to the air of disuse. The huge metal hangers covered the expanse, the domed tin roofs punctuated the horizon like a scattered group of D’s. Michael scanned the surroundings, a feeling of disquiet and dread filling his veins. It was probably the height of foolishness to visit a top secret bunker with only the company of a musician as back up, even if he did have the last name of Manes.

A dark shadow caught his eye, and frowned as he realized that they weren’t the only ones on sight. A familiar dark blue BMW was parked off to the side, mostly hidden by a building named B unimaginatively. As he crossed the parking lot with Alex a step behind, skipping over the broken slabs of paving markers, he drew to a halt in front of an open door.

Michael started forward, but Alex slapped his hand over his arm to halt him, “you should let me go first-”

“What, no!”

“I’m human, what if there’s some sort of anti-alien trap down there?”

“And you’re human, so what makes you think you’ll trip it?” Michael shot back reasonably, shaking off Alex’s hold. “If there’s a trap, I’m the one with the lock pick in my brain, besides, I think I know who’s down there.”

“This is like every bad horror movie, Michael.”

But outside of that pronouncement, Alex let him take the lead down the stairs of the open bunker into the cool shadows of the underground facility. As expected, he made it down uneventfully and found exactly who he expected at the bottom, spinning around in a slow circle in a leather covered office chair.

“Did you know they’re selling a shirt at Planet 7 that says ‘I’ve been probed by an alien’? I should buy it, because I can wear it unironically,” Kyle greeted as Michael made it to the bottom of the staircase. He shut his mouth comically as he realized that Michael wasn’t alone, “Whoops, did I just blow your secret like I’ve blown you?”

In Michael’s experience with Kyle, working the almost-friends and all-benefits angle, he had seen him in a lot of states. Worn out from a long shift at the hospital, solemn because he’d lost a patient, giggly because of Michael’s tendency toward wild bedhead, horny strangely because of a good football game, and finally tipsy after a pair of IPAs. He had never seen Kyle in this state.

“Are you drunk?” Michael asked, disbelievingly even though there was a mostly empty bottle of bourbon on the long conference table, stretching along the width of the room under the fluorescent lights.

“I am very drunk. That is the only sane response to my dad, I mean my day, actually I had that right the first time, my dad.” Kyle nodded vigorously before looking over Michael’s shoulder, “Hi Alex Manes. I’m sorry I was a homophobic jackass in high school. I have really changed. Ask your ex. Or is it current? Am I the ex now? Are we both Michael’s ex? Exes? Fuck is that plural or possessive-”

“You are definitely an ex now,” Alex answered firmly.

“Holy shit you are wasted,” Michael shook his head, slightly amused in spite of the deep alarm he felt in finding Kyle Valenti deep in the command center of an alien hunting operation. It was hard to feel too afraid considering the words pouring from Kyle’s mouth unedited.

“Listen I changed myself okay? I did the hard work examining my privilege and my toxic masculinity. I did it because I like sucking dick, but also because my dad is a good person and I wanted to make him proud. But I was fucking wrong. Not about sucking dick, that’s great, but my dad, he’s not good, Michael, he is really not who I thought he was.” Kyle pronounced seriously with the heavy emphasis of the inebriated. He staggered over to a computer system to press a key, pulling up a surveillance camera of a nondescript building on the set of command monitors. “He runs an alien GITMO,” the outside image clicked over, showing a line of cells, including an image of an all-too familiar man, “And he had Jesse Manes killed by an alien.”

#mguerin20 #guerinweek20 #malex fic #michael guerin #malex #roswell new mexico #au after the shed #the lost decade #oh yeah still got a bit of plot to wrap up #alex manes

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cosmicclownboy · 4 years

Text

Me finishing something I struggled to write....wow it was actually likely :)

When his father is alive the idea of going to therapy is suffocating. It continues to be throughout his years in the air force until the day it's mandated because by that point everything was suffocating. Waking up. Doing his physio. Simple tasks.Hard tasks. He had survived against all the odds but a part of him felt dead. So a part of him was in this limbo where he always felt like he was dying. The first session he stares at the clock inching the minutes until the clock hand rests on the hour change. The second he stares at the glass of water. By the third session he's exhausted he hasn't slept he still hears the screams and the blast in his mind so he slowly lets the man in not to everything. Not to his dad but to the blast. He was diagnosed with Complex PTSD and he was offered many ways to help with it. He goes to his sessions. He does his physio. Alex slowly builds himself up then he goes back to work.

It goes well for the most part until someone slams a door shut and he has to spend an hour in the bathroom trying to eradicate the weight on his chest and how to stop feeling cold. His therapist offers anti-anxiety medication and whilst he nods his head eyes cloudy he hears his father's words.

"Manes men don't cry it's a sign of weakness. We are soldiers, not Sally's"

He tries different antidepressants settling on one that helps his thoughts slower and that helps him sleep. None of his friends knows it when he heads back to Roswell except Kyle after he's let in on the alien secret and he makes him his doctor in case of shenanigans.

His father dies and he thinks maybe things can be different better in a way he never thought possible. The statue gets put up and he has a panic attack so bad he spends the next two days in bed. It takes him two weeks to think about it really think about it. To face the battle he has to jump right in and the idea of therapy doesn't seem so suffocating any more he's no longer afraid just determined to make strides. With Kyle's help, he finds one that specialises in childhood domestic abuse as well as having experience with veterans. She helps him in ways he didn't think was possible and maybe a year ago the idea of the traffic light method would have had him rolling his eyes or silently repressing whatever emotions he had. But maybe this could be a good thing.

Michael is the first to notice they are on a recon mission together and he's passing across the really good coffee from Bean me up he raises his eyebrows at the sight of an orange bracelet.

"Didn't think you liked orange? expanding the airforce's colour scheme?"

He huffs at that. Who said he didn't like orange?

"My therapist said because of my upbringing and complex PTSD I have a hard time vocalising or communicating my feelings so she suggested a traffic light method. Green is a good day when my emotions are in check. Orange is okay I can manage the day. Red is when-

"everything too much"

"Yeah. On red days I write down everything as to why it's red including my triggers and talk them over with her. It also helps people around me recognise when I'm in that headspace"

Michael shuts his door purses his lips and blows into his own coffee cup.

"I'm glad you're talking to someone"

"Me too. Now, are we gonna recreate a buddy cop movie extraterrestrial style or what? Come on, Guerin don't tell me you don't want to unleash your nerd. This is a safe place"

Michael takes a swig of his own coffee shaking his head before chuckling and taking the wheel. Maybe they share a lot more longing looks then friends would normally. They've just always had a connection under the surface beating and bubbling all on its own.Unspoken and beautiful.

More often then not he wears the orange one. The first time the green bracelet graces his wrist is the day the homeless dog he found slowly offers her belly to be rubbed. Yeah, that day was worthy of a green one. The day Nova finds him and the days that follow which end in his house having a dog bed in pretty much every corner. He might end up replacing his leather couch but who cares it's just a couch. It has nothing on her.

It's only when the days veer closer to the fourth anniversary of that day he truly struggles. Phantom pain comes in waves and he grips every surface he comes in contact with. The days slowly blur together it's a cocktail of depression, sleep deprivation and nightmares that has him on the Tuesday reach for the red bracelet. He finds the Crashdown is a minute from where he is and he's in desperate need for coffee.

Communicating hasn't always been easy for him and Michael especially their fight and flight being fight or fuck over the past decade but they've been trying their hardest to strive to be better to build a foundation. The bracelets were always something Michael immediately sought out every time they were in each other's vicinity. He saunters into the Crashdown buckle first and smooshes himself into the booth without a second thought grabbing one of the menus and seeing what new alien pun food Isobel helped conjure. It isn't until he finishes his order smiling at Liz that he finally looks up to Alex who's completely dissociated. His eyes are dark and sunken his milkshake untouched and he just looks lost. Michael's eyes drift to Alex's fingers noting the tremors before his eyes peer up further and he sees the red bracelet. Michael has a choice at this moment he could leave Alex to it but something in his heart tells him that the days of leaving are behind them. So he slowly reaches for the right hand that tremors and lightly laces the fingers between them. By the time he's halfway through his fries, Alex is more self-aware. He looks to their joined fingers and Michael's mouth completely stuffed with fries and looks softly at him. He doesn't unlace them.

"Want to get out of here?"

They end up in their spot the desert vast and unnerving.

"Did I do the right thing driving us here does it bring up anything we can go back if you want? You never really told any of us what to do on a code red day".

He's right he didn't say to any of them what to do. Truth is anytime Alex usually has one of these days he locks himself in a room and allows every ugly emotion to override him until his body tells him otherwise. Today was a new one in that he wanted connection. He wanted to be with Michael and despite the fear of the unknown he confesses this to Michael.

"It'll be four years Sunday"

"Since your leg?"

Alex nods he doesn't really know how to delve into it the only people who know what happened are the people at the airforce. People don't ask they don't want to know and the people who do aren't worthy of the conversation. Not to mention a lot of his job is classified he can only offer what he can.

"It was meant to be a simple job. Twenty of us in and out.Forty minutes on the dot. I was meant to hack a server. We got to the room we swept the entire place we didn't realise there was a pressure-sensitive bomb until Avril took his foot off. He was the youngest".

Recalling it makes his body shiver his hands shake but he needs to do this.

"Only eight of us made it out. Everyone else had spouses and kids. I had a dad who when I woke up from a two-week coma said I couldn't get blown up right. I didn't understand it. I'm good at compartmentalising stuff it's what he taught me to do my whole life but that day...I felt everything then nothing."

They lay there for a while staring at the stars tracing them with their fingers with one hand lacing the other. There's a light breeze softly swaying in the air Alex softly turns his body to Michael's until they are laying on the side facing one another.

"I get that feeling"

The confession Michael makes his heart ache and tighten he ushers the cowboy closer his fingers searching for his curls to slowly run his fingers through. Michael ends up the little spoon and judging by the little hum he makes he thinks he doesn't mind a little bit. Michael had the essence of a cat it's one of the many reasons he loves him.

"I know you do"

He pulls Michael tighter resting his head on his curls lightly pecking the crevice of his head.

"I think it's probably why we push each other away so much. I don't want the painful stuff I've been through to trigger or touch your stuff and neither do you so we pick a reason to walk away thinking the other one will be better off. I haven't been better off have you?"

Michael removes himself from his hold much to his disappointment and sitting up because he needs this conversation to be that of what it is a conversation.

"There hasn't been a day you've been gone where I thought that Alex. I'm just sorry for so many things"

"me too"

By the time he makes it to his house Alex is wiped he needs to feed Nova before she barks the house down. He also should really clean his prosthetic liner doesn't want to wind up getting sick. Not to mention taking his pain meds. Trust Michael to recognise all of this and tells him he'll feed her. He wants to argue but his eyes are drifting.

When he wakes up there's a glass of water his pain and anxiety meds on the bedside table and he's trying to remember how the hell he made it to his bed. Last time he checked he KO'd on the sofa as Nova was yipping at Michael's feet.

Michael.

Alex fumbles for his crutch and heads for the living room maybe he shouldn't make a presumption but he's pretty sure he knows his alien from the back of his hand and sure enough, he comes across to Michael and his Nova sharing the couch or Nova dominating both these things as if they are her own. It's the first time in a long time he's slept and he's hoping it's the first of many times he wakes up to Michael in his house. By the time he makes it back to the bedroom, he's staring at the red bracelet on his wrist and the notebook Michael also placed by the pill bottles sticky note on the top with a drawing of a lopsided penny. He spends twenty minutes writing it all down his triggers that day the way he felt all to make sure for his next session he can talk about it continue to make progress. By the time he's put the pen down and taken his anti-anxiety pill, he's greeted by his girl in the zoomies frame of mind.

"Hey, girl. Do you want to play? Give me a minute to put the leg on sweetie and I'll take you to the garden"

He stares at the three bracelets all meaning different things. Today isn't a red bracelet day so he turns to the orange one. It makes the most sense, doesn't it? Today he can manage yet there's something calling him to the green one. Can he go from red to green from a couple of hours? He'll make sure to ask in his next sessions but Nova excitedly barking wanting to play is reason enough for him to tie the green braids to his wrist.

"Do you always feel the need to dramatically lean against doorways".

His Michael senses are tingling he can't decide if it's a loving Michael thing or maybe the whole cosmic alien soulmate thing.

"You're wearing green today".

"Observant too"

He takes the coffee on offer delighting in the way the black bitterness soothes his soul.

"I think today could be a good day. Nova's happy. Plus you and I had an actual conversation which didn't end in tears, fucking or brokeback mountain angst"

Michael's not wearing his hat or his belt he's just leaning against the door frame with bedhead of the ages curls veering in every destination. He wants to run his hands through them and hold him. Fuck it who says he can't. He curls his head into his shoulder much to his surprise and tucks his arm to hold his waist. He feels the chuckle rumble against his ears

"We've had what ten years of it angst is overrated. You know what's underrated?"

"What?"

"Having breakfast. Holding hands. Watching a movie. Being boyfriends"

Alex feels a kiss against his head and peaks up to Michael softly cupping his cheeks he makes sure Alex's eyes are on his not looking away.

"I love you. If you aren't there yet that's okay. I don't want to mess with your recovery. If you don't want to be with me after everything that's okay too. I just want you to know I'm here and I'm not going anywhere"

Alex puts the cup of coffee down and brings his head up so their foreheads touch.

"I love you too".

Alex knows love won't cure everything and being with Michael doesn't mean it's automatically going to be green bracelets all the time. The red bracelet won't cease to exist. He still gets red days. But he does know this. Whatever the day and whatever colour he wears Michael will rub circles into his hand and hold it just the same. Some days he has a depressive episode or an anxiety attack and between his therapist and the people he loves they help him recognise it's okay. It's okay to be loved. It's okay to need and want people. His father's words can stay in the ground with him. Alex is finally content.

#malex #malexfic #this ended up really long #woops

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