#and stop making peter a traitor when he was a child/teenager

[galadrail]

i think not enough people talk about the fact that in prisoner of azkaban the movies a people ( don't remember who) said that peter was following sirius before saying james, like yeah peter was friend with them and he was also with sirius so please stop making them look like their ennemies in fic

peter was a dear friends of them all and sirius was so heartbroken when he did understand because he was close to him too;, that why he was so angry he just feeled beatrayed

[sweeethinny]

My Blood

it started as a fanfic for @startanewdream, inspired by the song My Blood, but I couldn't find a decent ending, and I don't want this fanfic to get lost in my documents, so here it is, a big compilation of years of friendship between Sirius and James - Jily Lives

-------

James had always wanted a brother, living alone was lonely, and as much as he loved his parents more than life itself - long before he even understood what love was - he wanted someone to share secrets with and to be… a brother.

He thought having a brother was having a best friend forever, and James wanted that.

When he met Sirius, he didn't know, of course, he thought he was just a nice, funny guy, and that they could be friends if he wanted to too, how the hell would James imagine that short, long-haired little boy would be a brother to him.

Sirius was there with him on James' first detention, and when they figured out how to get into the kitchen. James was there when Sirius told him about Regulus and his parents, and when he bought a dirty magazine, stuffed with pictures of athletic women in bikinis and in sexy poses.

They were together when they first changed and finally revealed to Remus what they had been planning all along their vacation. They were together when Remus yelled at Sirius for taking Snape to the passage, and James was there to fight Sirius too, but also to talk to him. James was there when Remus accepted Sirius' apology.

Sirius was there when James asked Lily out the first time, and he was there when he returned from his first date with her - almost two years later. He heard James stutter for nearly an hour about how amazing and beautiful and perfect she was, even though it was two in the morning and Sirius wanted to sleep.

James was there when Sirius talked about girls too, when they talked about Hestia, he was there when he saw Sirius completely drunk, and when he saw him he ran away from home.

That night, which was snowing like never before, when Sirius knocked on James' door, eyes wide and frightened, nose red and a thin leather jacket that didn't even warm an ant, James knew they were brothers.

Brothers because James would do anything for him, because James would walk through the lava of a volcano to save Sirius, because no matter the time or the situation, they would be together.

He was his family too.

"No need to worry, you're safe here," James whispered to Sirius during one of his panic attacks, lying next to him as he sobbed raggedly. "It's okay now, I promise." And he promised, because even if tomorrow the world did end, James knew he and Sirius would be together.

They were together when they graduated, Sirius was there when James decided to ask Lily to marry him, and they were together when James got married. Sirius was there too when Monti died, and soon after, when Euphemia died too. The two cried together, holding each other, sharing that pain that seemed to break them inside.

"I said we'd always be together, didn't I?" Sirius said, as he was helping James with the move, even though he clearly didn't know how to screw a wall.

When James and Lily found out they were going to be parents, Sirius was the first to know, when James asked him to be godfather, they cried together too, a little drunk, and when Harry was born, Sirius was there to meet him.

They were always brothers, and James never doubted that, and when Peter betrayed them, and even before that, when Dumbledore spoke of there being a traitor among them, a wound opened up in James' chest from having to face that harsh reality. One of his best friends betrayed him, and it nearly killed his family. Probably the worst day of his life.

"Trust me, I promise this time I'm doing the right thing," Sirius said, eyes full of regret, looking ready to cry in that cold, empty room, in that strange, empty house. "Stay here, I've secured the house, it's all very safe, but I need you to trust me."

"I've always trusted you," James said, because it was true, and there wasn't a day when it was different.

‘I know I was wrong, that I-’

"Pads." James hugged him, wanting him to stop apologizing, because he knew it hurt Sirius too. Peter's betrayal, Remus in hiding… James knew how he felt. ‘It's okay, I promise. Everything will be fine, I trust you.”

And James did, because if there was one thing James was proud to be, it was loyal to his friends. He had been loyal to Peter until a week ago.

"Sirius looked sad," Lily said later that night, lying in their new bed, Harry in the middle of them sleeping peacefully.

"He-" James broke off, having to clear his throat to keep from letting go of the tears that seemed to want to come more than ever. "He's just feeling guilty, but I've already said he's not to blame for anything."

In the years that followed, in the midst of all that terror, that anguish, Sirius was there, fought with them, cried and laughed with James, counseled Harry, fought with James when things started to get out of hand and kept him from wanting to act like a hero and risk his own life. They were no longer those reckless teenagers who weren't afraid of anything, now they had seen a lot, and fear was something that haunted them constantly.

When it was James who had a panic attack in the middle of a mission after seeing Harry's face, his boy, featured in the papers as Most Wanted, Sirius was there to calm him down and to make sure he didn't screw up.

"Take a deep breath, yes, it'll be fine, we're in this together." And James knew it was true.

There wasn't a night that James didn't close his eyes and beg whoever it was that everyone was all right. Harry, Lily, Remus, Sirius… all of them. James didn't know if he would take it if he had to take the pain of losing someone he loved so much in the middle of a war. So when Sirius appeared bleeding and bruised, James felt like he was close to collapsing.

It was such an unfair world, he couldn't have his child around anymore, his only child, Remus was hiding, and now he's almost lost his brother? James didn't even know what would become of him if he had to bury Sirius, if… He stopped, washing his face in the sink and looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, forcing himself to think rationally.

Sirius is alive, as are Remus and Harry. Everything will be fine.

[rainydaysketches]

Family Movie Night Gone WRONG!! (Not Clickbait)

(So. Guess who discovered FrostIron the other day? Anyway, I’m operating under the headcanon that Loki was being controlled by Thanos during the attack on New York, and that Thanos has since been dealt with by Carol. No more giant grape ballsack-chin titan to worry about. Also sorry about the title I couldn't think of anything better.)

If you had told Tony back in 2012 that in five years, the Avengers would be divided, half of said Avengers would be on the run, Asgard would be destroyed, he’d be dating Loki of all people, and have joint custody over a teenager who just so happened to be Spider-Man, well, he would probably have punched you in the face with a metal clad fist and sent you to a psych ward.

But that was exactly where Tony found himself, in the newly repurchased Stark Tower’s penthouse, with Loki and Peter on either side of him on the couch while they watched a Star Wars film that Peter had been demanding they watch together for the past week. Tony and Loki occasionally pitched in with a, “that’s not how that works” when it showed something about science or space that wasn’t accurate. Peter just told them to shush with a laugh each time.

It was nice.

About halfway through the movie, Tony heard Peter’s stomach growl, and that made him realize that he was pretty hungry himself. He told FRIDAY to pause the movie and the lights came on. Loki offered to pick up some Chinese, and Peter and Tony readily agreed.

Peter ran off to use the bathroom after Loki teleported away, and Tony decided to grab another cup of coffee before either of them returned.

Before the coffee could even finish brewing, the elevator dinged. This gave Tony pause, because Loki seldom used the elevator, and no one else was in the tower today. Happy and May were on a date (much to Peter’s equal disgust and happiness), Pepper was in Hong Kong, Rhodey was on a short weekend vacation to visit family, and Thor and Bruce were in New Asgard.

While Tony was wondering who could be in the elevator, the doors opened. He brought his hand up near the arc reactor on his chest, ready to activate his suit if need be.

The first person to come out of the elevator was Rogers, followed by Wilson, Maximoff, Romanoff, and Barton. Tony felt his jaw drop, along with the hand hovering near the arc reactor. Rogers caught sight of Tony, in his sweatpants and Star Trek t-shirt that Peter had gotten him for his birthday, standing with his mouth hanging open in the middle of his kitchen. Rogers smiled. Tony didn’t return the sentiment.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, which, in his opinion, was a perfectly reasonable response when someone walked into your living room, acting like they owned the place. Knowing Rogers, he probably thought he did. The smile fell from Rogers’ face, and the others behind him tensed.

“What do you mean, Tony? We got pardoned,” Rogers said, with the gall to sound confused.

“Okay, but why the hell are you in my tower?” Now all the rogues looked confused, and they were looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“We were pardoned,” Romanoff stated, “So we came home.” The others nodded.

“Home?” Tony scoffed, “Home!? You gave up your chance to call Stark Tower ‘home’ when you betrayed my trust.”

“Come on, Tony,” Barton tried, “We were pardoned, and the first thing we do is come and see you, and this is how you repay us?” Tony picked up on the blatant guilt tripping, and it may have just worked if he’d done it before he met Loki or Peter, but not anymore.

Tony opened his mouth to respond, be before he could get a sound out, a soft voice spoke up behind him.

“Dad?”

The universe just loved to fuck with Tony Stark, didn’t it? He spun around to face Peter, turning his back on the rogues, because even if they literally stabbed him in the back, Peter would always be more important.

“Hey Pete. How about you, uh, sit on the couch while I sort this shit out.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the rogues. He heard an indignant sound come from someone behind him, but he chose to ignore it.

Peter looked wary, and he subtly made a web-slinging gesture with his hand. Tony shook his head minutely in response, to which Peter nodded and headed off to the couch.

When he turned back to the rogues, who were standing stock-still. Tony contemplated congratulating Peter for shocking the Avengers this bad later, but figured once Tony told him about it, Loki would do it for him, so he decided not to.

Barton was the first to break the silence. “You have a kid!?” Tony, just now remembering his coffee, grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured himself some. He took a deep, long drink before he sighed and answered.

“Yeah, what about it?”

The team was shocked into baffled silence once again.

“We just… didn’t peg you for the type to want a kid?” Wilson said, the first time he’s spoken since they all got here. Tony almost didn’t hear the sharp intake of breath that came from the couch.

“I’ll have you know, that kid is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I’d sooner let my company go bankrupt than lose him,” Tony told them, loud enough that Peter could hear him, even without his freaky spider-hearing.

The rogues unabashedly gaped at him.

Rogers shook himself out of his stupor first.

“Tony, how long have you had a kid?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe that Tony could possibly care for a child, which a younger Tony would have agreed with.

“About a year and a half now, right?” Tony looked to Peter for confirmation, and Peter nodded at him with a thumbs up, which was actually a lot more encouraging than it should have been. “Yeah, a year and a half ago I adopted him.”

“It’s still joint custody!” Peter called out with a devilish grin.

“Stop being a smartass, Peter!” That only caused Peter’s grin to get wider.

Before anyone else could speak, there was a bright flash of green light in the middle of the living room. Tony felt relief flood through him. Loki was back.

The rogues drew their weapons. Rogers grabbed the shield off his back, red magic danced around Maximoff’s fingers, making Tony take a few steps back with unease, Barton knocked an arrow, and Romanoff just suddenly had a knife. Wilson migrated to the back of the group, because he was in civilian clothes and didn’t have his wings.

The five of them stiffened when Loki began to speak. Tony did the opposite and relaxed.

“So, they didn’t have any more chow mein, which is ridiculous, because they are a Chinese restaurant, how could they just run out of chow mein?” Loki ranted while he rifled through the bags, most likely checking that everything was there. “Also, they kept saying that they ‘were closed’ and asking ‘how did you get in here,’ which, rude, but they did give us three free egg rolls, so-” Loki finally looked up and took in the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Tony shot Loki a look that hopefully conveyed his thoughts of, “please, for the love of god, help me.” Loki got the memo, but chose to roll his eyes and drop himself on the couch next to Peter instead.

“Traitor,” Tony mumbled to himself, before refocusing on the rogues, who still had all their weapons pointed at Loki, and subsequently, Peter.

“Tony,” Rogers started harshly, “Why is Loki here?” He said Loki’s name with so much contempt that Tony physically recoiled from it.

“Um, because he wants to be?” Tony told them, but it sounded a lot more like a question than he intended. “And because I let him in.” he continued, trying to make it not sound like he was unsure.

“So you’ll let a supervillain into Avengers Tower, but not the actual Avengers?” Barton burst out, “That’s bullshit!” Tony needed to take a deep breath and a sip of coffee before he could respond to that remark.

“Okay, first of all,” Tony shot a glance at Loki who was smiling bitterly at his lap in that way he did when he was feeling self-deprecating. “Loki is not a supervillain now, nor was he ever. And second, this is Stark Tower, not Avengers Tower, and you need to get it through your skulls that I will not welcome you back here. In fact, you are trespassing on private property as we speak, but I’ll let it slide if you leave. Right now.”

Tony could practically see the gears turning in everyone’s heads. It was as if they couldn’t even follow the simplest instructions.

“Tony,” Rogers began, and Tony internally groaned. He just wanted Rogers and his rogues gone. ”Loki is manipulating you. But you don’t have to do what he wants. Come with us, we’ll keep you safe.”

Now it was Tony’s turn to have gears turning in his head.

And when he finally figured out what Rogers was talking about, he burst out laughing. The rogues looked awkward, just standing there watching him laugh his ass off, and that only made him laugh harder.

“Y-you, pfft- you think h-he’s manipulating me?” And that was all that Tony could say before he fell into another fit of laughter.

Peter and Loki found this funny too, because Peter was trying - and failing - to stifle his own laughter and Loki had a fond grin on his face as he looked at Tony.

After a minute or two, he’d finally calmed down. During his laughing fit, the rogues had lowered their weapons slightly, but Maximoff’s magic had only grown and glowed brighter. “Loki is not manipulating me, nor is he controlling me, or doing anything else to me. So drop it.”

Maximoff’s stance shifted slightly, and she lunged at Tony. Before he could activate his armour, she had pinned him to the ground and put her fingers on his temples. He tried to struggle, but she was either surprisingly heavy, or she was holding herself down with magic. Most likely the latter.

More red magic gathered at her fingertips, and Tony felt his eyelids drooping shut, no matter how much he fought to keep them open. When his eyes fully closed, a searing pain seemed to stab him in the brain, but he was unable to scream.

A second later, the weight was thrown off him, the pain was gone, and he could open his eyes again.

Loki and Peter had both gotten off the couch and tackled Maximoff off of him. Peter had her pinned to the ground, even as she was thrashing about. Loki held out his hand for Tony to grab and Tony gratefully took it so Loki could haul him up.

Even once Tony was back on his feet, he didn’t let go of Loki’s hand. The rogues looked warily between Tony, Peter, and Loki, and raised their weapons once again. Tony let out a grumble and turned so he could drop his forehead on Loki’s shoulder. Loki used his unoccupied hand to comb his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony gave an appreciative hum.

Peter managed to get off Maximoff without any serious injuries, so he went and stood next to Tony on the opposite side Loki was. Tony smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

Tony then glared at the rogues, Steve and Wanda especially. The former was helping the latter off of the floor, both glaring at all three of them. Romanoff stepped in front of Rogers and Maximoff, holding her hands up in faux surrender.

“How about we all calm down and talk about this?” She tried.

“Get out of my tower,” Tony growled, clutching Loki’s hand like a lifeline. Loki squeezed his hand back just as tightly.

The rogues must have realized how much of a fruitless endeavor this was, because they all backed off, though reluctantly. They all crowded back into the elevator and told FRIDAY to bring them back to the ground floor. The AI didn’t reply as she usually did, just shut the doors and brought them down.

Tony slumped in exhaustion.

“Okay, that’s officially too much excitement for what should have been a relaxing movie night.” His comment startled a laugh out of Peter, and Loki even let out a chuckle.

They all went back to their spots on the couch, this time with Chinese food, and started the movie back up. None of them stayed awake long enough to see the end.

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #10

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here 

{peter stark and a no good very bad day}

Ship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Steve Rogers & Peter Stark

Warnings: swearing, fluff otherwise :)

Wc: 3,984

Today, everything had gone wrong. He stayed up way past his bedtime the previous night and had gotten barely three hours of sleep by the time he arrived at school. He forgot his Spanish homework in the lab and that was the one grade he needed to pull from an A- to an A. He chugged a couple shots of espresso, and his usual store on the walk to school was closed. Meaning he had no redbull to sustain him through his classes.

Also, guess which class was straight bangout first, Spanish. So he hadn't done the homework and had no time to do it. Great. Fortunately, he made it through first period Spanish, only getting slightly scolded for not handing in the assignment. Then he had a break, and the kid desperately needed a pick me up coffee and muffin. He went to the closest cafe, one he’d come to love, only to find the whole football team there. Which would have been fine, if he wasn’t so goddamn awkward. He stood there for a solid five minutes before he asked the jock in his way to move so he could order.

Then, when the kid did get to ordering they ran out of fuckin chocolate muffins. What kinda cafe runs out of chocolate muffins at ten am? This one apparently. So coffee and blueberry muffin in hand, he headed back to the student lounge to get some work done.

The next portion of his day went as planned, a welcomed change of pace. Well Flash was a bitch, but what was new there. And his senses were through the roof. But other than that. That was all until the last period. To start, he got a text from his boyfriend, explaining that he’d no longer be arriving this Friday, but instead the following Saturday. Peter wanted to cry. He missed his boy. Leaving Harley on read, he tried to focus on chemistry, but he’d done the stuff they were going over about 100 times with Dr. Banner. He zoned out the entire class.

Finally, the bell rang and put him out of his misery. He quickly texted Ned asking if he was coming in the following day. He had been sick that day. He went to leave, but the class was stopped by the announcement of a test and more homework. For fuck sake.

He did get out, though. And he got straight in the car, barely pausing to say hello to Happy. Noticing the boy's unusual quiet, he didn’t press for more details about Peter’s day. Happy, though he’d never say it, enjoyed hearing about the kids day. He had come to really care for Peter, and his accomplishments made the older man happy. Ironic, he knew.

They had arrived at the tower in almost record time, and Peter was glad to have avoided extra time in the car. What he really craved was a couple hugs from his dads, a chat with his boyfriend, and to get through the stack of busy work that weighed him down.

Happy went round to the private entrance, wished the kid a good day, and headed off to some other errand. Peter exited, scanning his pass at security and being recognized and let through by Friday. So, he’d finally made it upstairs and there the sofa was, filled with a few avengers. Luckily his parents were among them. The two were sitting close to each other, as normal.

Peter simply put his head in his pops lap, and he laid his feet on his dad. Neither Steve nor Tony said anything, but they gave each other the look. Steve ran his hands through his son’s hair lovingly. “Pete?” Tony asked, “What happened kid?” “Nothin’” Peter replied, still buried in his Pop’s lap. “You sure about that?” Steve pressed. “Just a bad day,” Peter mumbled. “What happened паук?” Nat spoke up. She is very protective of Peter. “What didn’t happen?” he sighed dramatically. “Well you mope for as long as you like, Pete,” Tony joked. “Thanks dad,” he said, closing his eyes again in search of sleep. “Teenagers I tell you,” Clint said, rolling his eyes. “Fuck you Barton,” Peter mumbled before falling asleep properly. “He really is your child, Tones,” Clint laughed. “Hey Peter just said a bad language word,” Nat remarked. “God I hate all of you,” his Pops groaned. Then Peter fell into peaceful, safe sleep.

“Pete?” his Pops said, entering his room. He moved around, noticing he’d been moved from the sofa to his own room. He groaned. “Hello to you too.” “Yes, Hi, father, Captain America, Leader of the Avengers, Man of Strengt-” “Ok relax,” Cap rolled his eyes. Peter sat up, smirking. “Wanna tell me what actually happened today?” “J-just everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong.” “Did that start with you staying in the lab way past a normal sleeping time?” “Perhaps. How did you kn-” “You are aware that your dad designed that whole lab situation, right?” “Fair enough.” “Do we have to initiate Insomnia protocol again?” “God no, it was one night.” “Promise.” “Swear. Just an awful day. Spidey senses all acting up, being annoying, no chocolate muffins. Speaking of which, can I have the day off tomorrow? I have basically no classes.” (he wasn’t sure why, but all but one of his classes were cancelled.) Steve thought for a moment. He knew the kid had been through a lot always, and a day off never hurt anyone. Also, he was far too smart to be there anyway. “Yeah. Let me just double check with Dad, okay?” “Thanks.” “We’re eating dinner now so get cleaned up?” “Yep. Coming.”

The next day

Peter awoke at 10 with a smile on his face. He’d peacefully regained energy. He’d finished his school work the previous night, and he was happy to just relax for a day. He pulled on some SI sweatpants and a hoodie he’d stolen from Harley awhile back.

“Hey parentals,” he greeted, still holding his smile. “Morning,” his Pops said as he cooked breakfast. “Morning? Is it already?” I bet you can guess who that came from. “Tones,” Steve said, voice full of its normal concern. Peter just laughed, taking a stool at the bar. “What? I’m fine. I’m having fun.” “You promised you’d at least take a nap.” “Oops,” he smiled, heading back in the direction of the lab. “You’re a great role model to our son!” “You really are dad!” Peter added. “Love you both dearly.” Steve rolled his eyes and Peter chuckled. “Where’s the rest of the team?” Peter inquired. He’d come to realize that saying team was easier than naming all the residents of the tower. “Nat, Clint, Wanda, and Pietro are training. Thor and Loki went back to Asgard last night, and Bruce is in his lab.” “Oh, Loki didn’t tell me he was going back.” “Some emergency. Sorry kid.” “Yeah, i-it’s fine.” “He told me to assure you they’d be back soon.” “Good.” “Keaner getting here soon?” “Nah coming tomorrow now. Something about something, I don’t really know.” “Ok. Made grilled cheeses and tomato soups. It's almost done,” Steve offered. “Thanks,” Peter said. “What’s with Loki leaving that's got you so down?” “I just miss him a lot.” Steve knew that his Kid and loki had come to get on surprisingly well. They were as close as he and Nat. Not even Clint had managed to get that close.

Peter practically inhaled a couple of sandwiches. “I’m going to go work with Dad.” “Have fun!” “I will.” “Love you.” “Love you, too.” He sped down to the lab, where he could hear his Dad’s ACDC blasting as usual. “Heyo, what you working on?” “The suit nanotech. Wanna give your old man a hand?” “Always. Bring up the blueprints. What adjustments have you made so far? “Just the molecule distance and expansion weight. Trying to help stabilize the structure.” “What about the build construction stacking?” So they dove into work, Peter easily keeping up with the genius.

“Nicely done, getting too smart for me. What are you even doing in high school?” “Being bored and failing my humanities classes.” “You're not actually failing your classes are you? Grades are not everything bu-” “Relax father, I’m doing well in all my classes.” “I should probably know that. In fact I’ll actually show up to your next parent teacher conference.” “Please don’t,” Peter smiled. His father was generally very embarrassing. “Friday, make sure I’m at the kid’s next conference?” “Reminder set.” “Thanks, Fri.” “Anytime boss.” “God Fri please remind me to not show up for my next conference.” “Heyyyy,” Tony said, faking offence. “Dad, you can be very overbearing.” “I know, but-” “No.” “Fine, guess I’m not coming. Trying to be a good father and parenthood isn’t for me.” “I beg to differ,” Steve said, coming in to check on us, “realise you're no match for Peter’s intelligence yet?” “No fucking way. I’m a genius. Many PHDs. Kid hasn’t even finished high school, plus he has an A- in Spanish,” Tony laughed. “How did you-,” Peter rolled his eyes. “Friday just sent them to me.” “You’re awful.” “Hey watch it, MIT is still your dream school?” “I fucking hate you so much,” Peter really did loved this kind of banter with his father. “Maybe I do agree that parenthood isn’t for you, love.” “Capsical, you are a traitor. You’re supposed to always be on my side.” Steve kissed Tony’s cheek and ruffled Peter’s hair before saying, “Pepper needs you. Something about important business.” “Really important?” “She says if you don’t come she’ll lock you out of the company.” “That important then. Fri, tell Pepper that I’m coming.” “She has been notified, sir.” “Thank you. Bye then, Peter don’t fuck anything up.” “The same to you Mr. Stark.” Tony left the lab with a chuckle. “You two will be the death of me.” “Almost certainly.” “You staying in here?” “Nah, I have some projects in my lab waiting for me.” “You know your dad was joking about the grades right? Because grades really don’t mean anything, and they don’t define you. Nor does your intelligence. You are so much more than all that. And all these suits and mechanicy genius things-” “Pops. I’m fine. I know,” he smiled at his dad. “I just read in this parenting book that something smart or gifted kids can feel like th-” “Pops, you and dad are the best parents a kid could ask for. Stop worrying too much or you’ll turn grey like dad.” Captain America just smiled at his kid because he was the best. “Right. Good. Have fun.” “Will do.”

He messed with the design for the 100th millionth time but he couldn't get the vibrainim to synthesize with the web fluid. “Fri, get me another cup of coffee, please.” “For fuck sake, why isn’t this working,” he said to himself. He began to mess with the 3d hologram again. He typed in Mock 32 for the design and started trying again. “Pepper Potts is requesting access to the lab.” “Access granted,” he said to Fri. “Hey Pete, how’s it going?” “Badly, but it's fine. IS THAT COFFEE?” “White mocha latte, triple shot espresso,” She said, placing it down on the desk. “Ok..back up. What do you need?” “What, I can’t just bring my favorite stark a coffee?” “Aren’t you busy?” he asked skeptically. “Yes. Incredibly. So it is a peace offering. I allowed a tour access to this lab to look around, and see what a higher ups lab looks like in action. Fri will hide all of the classified things, and I thought you’d be at school. Tony just told me you weren’t so, here we are.” “He actually showed up to your meeting?” “Yes, and it wasn’t my meeting. He just needed to be there, and I didn't.” “I take your peace offering. It’s fine, I don’t care. So long as they don’t touch my shit.” “Good. Greet them, let them look around. Smile your cute smile. They’ll be up in five.” “FIVE MINUTES?” “Yep. Sorry, Hun, got to run. Thanks.” “You owe me one!”

As promised, the class showed up in five minutes. He was fine with the concept of a class showing up, he was not, however, good with his class showing up. “Is that Penis Parker?” He heard Flash. “Holy hell that is Park?” “IS THAT PETER?” “Did Peter break in?” “How is Peter here?” He couldn’t exactly kick them out. So, embracing his inner Tony Stark charm and Steve Rogers kindness, he opened the lab door, stepping into the corridor.

“EVERYONE PLEASE BACK UP AND BE QUIET!” The tour guild, Aliah, yelled. They were a kind person who Peter knew a bit. The classes quieted down.

“Hello, Aliah.” “Hi Peter,” they greeted, “Sorry, I hadn’t realized you’d be in today. I’ll just take them to our next stop.” “No, no it's fine. If it’s alright, I’ll give them a little tour sorta thing. I don’t mind, plus I kinda promised Pepper.” “That’d be really cool. Thanks.” “Yeah. Call ‘em over.” “Yeah. We’re just waiting on their teacher, he’s in the restroom.” “Course.”

Mr. Harrington showed up, questioning Aliah about the next stop. Then, he saw Peter. “Mr. Parker!” he exclaimed angrily, “How dare you show up here without a permission slip and claiming to be sick. What is this? We will be speaking with the principal and your parents about this! I am so sorry Aliah. Peter shot Aliah the “I got this” look. “Hi Mr. Harrington, I was unwell this morning, but I felt better so I came into work. Yes, I do have an internship here,” he said, loud enough for the class to hear. “The next stop on your tour,” they said, “is to Peter’s lab. He’s been so kind to give us a run-down.” Peter simply point at the door which read “Lab #55: Peter Parker.” “Right, uh, um, sorry Mr. Parker, please let us continue.” Peter smiled through his nerves. “Right, hello there class! I will be giving you a tour of my lab. I do some pretty important work, so I’m going to ask Friday to activate the ‘Guest Protocol’ to hide the classified stuff. It’s also very dangerous, so please do not touch anything.” There were nods from the class. “Right, Fri complete guest protocol and allow tour of Aliah to enter.” “Yes miniboss.” He re-entered his lab. “So, most of the time I work here,” he said, pointing to the biggest holograph table, “I work on designs, changes, and any mockups that need to happen. I then make them a reality. I can also run simulations on any formulas to see if they would be successful.” “Fri, please pull up the WFV project I was just working on for Spiderman.” “Right away mini-boss.” “So as you can see I’m trying to get the vibranium intertwine itself with Spiderman’s web fluid. This would allow the webs to be almost 47 times stronger, and also would allow them to conduct electricity, which has many uses. Anyone have any questions?” Ava raised her hand and Peter nodded at her, “Hey, so how did you learn all this? Like, it seems really complicated and you're in my chem class, so.” “I’ve worked a lot with both Mr. Stark and Bruce Banner, who’ve taught me most of what I know throughout the years. I also took a few online courses to solidify some subject matters I didn’t quite understand,” Peter, satisfied with his answer, asked if anyone else had inquired. “How did you get an internship here?” “Mr. Stark found me on the internet and took a liking to my projects. He met me and decided I’d fit right in here,” Peter explained simply. It was a lie of course, but it functioned as their cover story. “Anyone else? No. Cool, so moving onto some other sections in the lab. Over in that corner are the testing rooms. I have some more equipment scattered around for certain projects or just overall help on making things. Feel free to look around for 5-7 minutes and ask any questions you may have.” Some kid, Peter wasn’t sure of their name, raised his hand. “Why do you have cars in here? Are they yours?” “Some of the cars are mine, courtesy of Mr. Stark, who claims no lab is complete without some collection of cars. I can’t even drive them, to your point, but I guess I will when I’m eighteen. Some of the cars are Mr. Harley Keener’s, who I occasionally share my lab with. He doesn't do Avengers related projects, but he does love to tinker here and there. ‘Specially on the cars. See that red one, yeah he bought it for 5k and fixed it up. It’s actually an electric car, he just likes the old timers look. Guess that’s on him and da-Mr. Stark.”

No one seemed to have any other question, so he allowed them to look around. MJ nor Ned seemed to be in this class. He guessed they were in another group that wasn’t coming up here, or they went to a different location.

The tour went smoothly, and Flash seemed too shocked to say anything. “Peter! Peter!” Bucky came in yelling. Peter ran over to him. “Please keep it down uncle Buck.” “Oh shit your class is here!” “Yes now please don’t embarrass me.” “Won’t do! Just wanted to ask where Loki went.” “Asgard official business,” I said with a frown. “Really? He didn’t say a thing!” “I know.” “That little shit.” Peter laughed alongside Bucky. “Did you need anything else?” “Yeah, my arm's a little fucked up. Need a hand.” “Happy to give it a look. Dad in a meeting?” “To all our shock, yes.” “Ha. Give me a sec to get my class outta here.” Bucky nodded. “Right everyone, thanks for visiting. Please head towards the exit. The lovely Aliah will take you to your next location. They are awesome!” A murmur of “thanks Peter” and “is that the winter soldier” spread through the room. “See ya round,” Aliah said to him personally, “And thanks for this.” “Anytime. Bye!” They smiled a warm smile before leading the class out.

“What’s not working so well?” Peter asked. “Just some tightness in the finger motion. “Alright, okay. Fri, get me an update of the schematics, please.” “Yes, sir.” They appeared on the holographic table Peter was working at. “Right, can I please get a current scan of Uncle Bucky’s arm?” “Yes. Shall I place them next to the schematics?” “Yep. And highlight all differences.” “Yes miniboss.” “You gotta stop with that Fri.” “Name unable to be changed under the authority of Tony Stank, Badass Boss, God of Mischief, and Fiance.” “Glad the whole team is against me living a good life,” Peter remarked with an eye roll. “You drama queen.” “Thanks,” Peter smiled. “You know what’s wrong yet?” Peter opened up the schematics, looking at the highlighted section of the 3d arm model. He didn’t speak for a moment. “So I reckon, you fucked up the wiring and section T4’s minigears. None of the important tech is messed up, it’ll be fine. Maybe a half an hour fix. Max.” “Good, good. Thanks kid,” Bucky said with an appreciative smile. He nodded, disconnecting the arm carefully. He placed it onto his table next to the holographic model. He gave a skeptical look. “Something bad?” “No, no, I was just thinking. Thinking, hmn.” “Care to share with the class?” Buck said with a sense of humor lingering in his voice. “Well, you’re not on mission all that often, and this is quite a bulky arm. Ever think about getting one that’s your skin colour, lighter weight, more, I don’t know, arm like. Less hydra murdery vibes. Help get rid of that, that time.” “I have…” “So can I make it?” Peter said excitedly. “You mean it?” “Of course Uncle Buck! No clue why dad hasn’t offered before!” “Guess he never thought of it. Maybe thought I liked the scary metal thing,” he suggested weakly. “Well that’s stupid,” Peter said casually. Bucky never understood how the kid could be so compassionate so easily. “Thanks. Really.” “No worries. I’ve been looking for a new project to throw myself into. It'll be fun. And as much as I hate to admit it, I need to work on my smaller scale mechanical work.” All Bucky could do was smile his beaming smile. “Bucky!” the voice of the Black Widow shouted. “Hey Nat,” Buck replied. “Wanna train?” she asked. “As much as I want to,” he said, pointing towards the area his arm would have been. “Oh, what happened this time?” “Nothing to major, some gears and wires,” Peter filled it, “Give me twenty minutes I’ll be done.” He’d already opened the arm and gotten to the section where the wires were screwed up. “DAN-E get me the soldering kit, please,” he asked the robot, “Oh and some new T6YU wires. Red and purple.” The robot gave a vaguely human nod. “Right, I'll be waiting. Test the adjustments out on me?” She suggested. “Alright,” Buck said. “Oh and I’m in charge of ordering food. What do you want?” “Burgers?” “You boring, bland little boy,” Nat scolded. “Thai?” Buck requested. They looked over to Peter, “Sure, yeah.” Nat headed out, greeting Tony with a “Hey Stank” on the stairs out of his lab. “Yours is so much smarter than mine, why is yours so much smarter than mine,” Tony fake (real) whined. “I’m the superior mechanic, father, deal with it.” DAN-E, almosting proving his point, dropped the materials on his desk, and he continued to work. “I’m donating DUM-E,” Tony glared at him, “What happened to the arm Buck?” “Stiff fingers isall.” “Oh, ok. Pete, need a hand?” “Nah, I’m good. Not much to do. Some wires got fucked up, just replacing them now. Going to look at the minigears in the palm too, just to make sure the oil regulation and gear’s aren't broken. I think one of the gears is, but it's one of them that's easy to replace,” Peter replied, not looking up from his work. “Right, sounds good. Your pops and I are going out for the night. Be back around 12 let’s say.” “Cool. Can I borrow some vibranium from your lab?” “Sure thing kiddo. Call us if you need anything. Fri, give Peter access to vault B3 in my lab.” “Thanks,” Peter smiled. “Anytime. Good luck with ya know.” “Shouldn’t he ask you what you're going to do with a substance that costs 10,000$ a gram?” “Something about trusting me.” “Parents trust their kids with going out later or or doing their homework not fucking multimillions of dollars.” “Uncle Bucky, my parents are Iron Man and Captain America. There was never a shot at normal.” “Fair enough.”

Peter finished up the adjustment on the arm by changing a gear. “Thanks a lot kid.” “Of course. I’m going to work on your new arm now.” “Alrighty, I’ll get out of your way.” “Oh could you ask Auntie Nat what time she’s ordering dinner for? So I know when to head up, just get Fri to tell me.” “Will do.” “Thanks.”

So Peter was left to making some blueprints and drinking many red bulls. The red bull mini-fridge was actually a gift from Shuri, and his fathers had many words with him about it. He managed to convince them that he should keep it, god knows how. Well, he used the whole Princess of Wakanda and making peace and Stark Industries relationship with Wakandan products and companies as well as international relations and blah blah. It worked, who cares.

After a few hours he was called up for dinner, and he sat there and enjoyed the absolute chaos of his family.

Save/comment on A03 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/33320938

[ambivalentmarvel]

so the story behind this is that @sreppub​ arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat. 

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces. 

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?” 

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?” 

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front. 

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it. 

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going. 

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement. 

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision. 

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

[littleeejit]

A Makeshift Ice-Rink

by @gracefulpanda12 for @skeeter-110

Rating: General

Relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Original Male Character(s)

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Original Male Character(s)

Summary: Tony shrugged and opened the door. Peter was running back and forward. and the babysitter, Thomas, was sitting on the sofa, trying to convince him to sit down. He turned to Pepper and shrugged his shoulders again, before walking straight through the doorway-

-and proceeding to fall straight on his ass.

***

or,

Peter makes an ice rink.

For the Friendly Neighbourhood Exchange! My first one got deleted, so I had to re upload it!

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

The Gala was long and boring. Predictable too. Full of rich, white, snobs trying to grease each other’s palms, and their gossiping wives. Tony hated it. Always had.

He was good at it, without a doubt, but he hated the fake smiles, fake laughs and how everyone sucked up to him. It wasn’t too bad, when he was younger. Mainly because he didn’t remember much of it, either too drunk, or too high to care about anything other than who he was taking home that night. Now though, as much as he would like to take some girls-or guys, he wasn’t picky-home with him for a good time, he had Peter. Which meant his rule was in place. “No one over unless Peter is at May’s”. And since, as of right now, he was probably giving his babysitter a run for his money in the Stark Tower penthouse, that meant no ‘sleepovers’.

He watched as Pepper Potts sauntered towards him, holding two glasses of champagne. She was wearing a beautiful, floor length, green dress that complimented her figure.

Tony smiled at her, as she handed him a glass of champagne. “How much longer do I have to stay here?”

“Just another hour. Then you can go home to Peter.” Tony groaned quietly, before taking a sip of the bubbley drink.

***

Tony sighed, feeling Peppers hand on his shoulder, as she reached down to take off her five inch high heels. She let out a sigh of relief, once both of the black shoes were in her hand. The elevator dinged, and opened.

Tony, ever the gentleman, held out his arm. “Ladies first” He said, in a posh English accent. Pepper snorted in amusement before sauntering forward. They walked side-by-side through the hall, and towards the double doors that led to the living room. They could hear Peter’s childish giggles, and excitable rambling from the other side of the corridor.

As they reached the doors, an English voice spoke up, seemingly from all around. “If I may sir” JARVIS started, “I would advise being careful where you step, some of the ground is a bit slippy”

Tony and Pepper turned towards each other, tilting their heads simultaneously.

“What? Did Peter spill something, J?”

JARVIS hesitated a moment before speaking again. “In a sense sir. Just, be careful.”

Tony shrugged and opened the door. Peter was running back and forward. and the babysitter, Thomas, was sitting on the sofa, trying to convince him to sit down. He turned to Pepper and shrugged his shoulders again, before walking straight through the doorway-

-and proceeding to fall straight on his ass. Pepper, ever the helpful Personal Assistant, proceeded to crack up, holding her sides as she gasped for breath.

“JARVIS?” Pepper asked, once she had stopped laughing a bit.

“Yes Ms Potts?” The A.I. sounded amused, if that were possible. And, considering he was Tony’s creation, it very well was possible.

“Please, for the love of Christ, tell me you got that on video.”

“Of course I did. I video all the comings and goings of Stark Tower. For Mr. Stark’s protection, of course.”

Tony rubbed the lower part of his back, where it was still aching, and proceeded to glower at where he knew JARVIS’s cameras were.

“Traitor.” he grumbled.

At this point in time, Peter and Thomas had noticed their entrance, and the six year old had proceeded to make his way over. It was at this present moment that Tony realized Peter hadn’t been walking back and forth, no, he had been sliding back and forth.

The elder Stark watched as the younger expertly slid his way across the floor, as if he was a professional ice skater, and this was his rink.

He stopped beside him, just as JARVIS stated, “Well sir, in my defense, I did tell you to watch where you step.”

Peter looked up towards the ceiling, and then back down to where his father was sitting on the ground. “Daddy? You’re supposed to stay on your feet. Not fall down. Like this.”

Tony breathed out a laugh as he watched this son’s curly, brown hair bounce as he demonstrated how to slip and slide all over the living room. He felt a swell of love from deep inside of him as he watched his son, and wondered, not for the first time, how anyone could love someone this much.

Tony slowly got up, careful to keep his legs spread apart, so as to have plenty of balance. and slowly slid his way over to the arm of the couch, before plonking his ass down.

Peter was still sliding around, and, after looking and seeing no dangerous objects nearby that he could run into and potentially harm himself with, Tony decided to let him at it. If anything it would tire him out before his bedtime, in half an hour.

Pepper made a hand gesture, basically saying, ‘you have fun, I’m going to take a nice long bath’, before turning to the hyperactive child. “I’ll see you tomorrow Peter. Don’t let your father do anything silly until I get back.”

Peter turned to her, giving her a wide smile, showing both of his missing front teeth. “Bye Ms Pepper!”

She chortled slightly before mouthing ‘good luck’ at Tony, and walking off.

He turned towards the seventeen year old babysitter.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Stark! I tried to get him to stop, but by the time the popcorn was done, he already had the can emptied all over the floor and was sli-”

Tony cut him off with a raised hand, and a small smile. “Don’t worry about it kid. I know he can be a handful. I’ll transfer the money for the babysitting into your account tonight. Why don’t you head on home?”

Thomas sighed slightly in relief before nodding his head frantically. “Yes sir” He then turned towards Peter, who was watching the exchange with his trademarked wide brown eyes, “I’ll see you later Peter.”

The kid slid over to Thomas and wrapped his small arms around him. He smiled slightly as he ruffled the kid’s curls. “Bye Thomas. Thanks for playing with me today”

He smiled as he stepped away from Peter, ruffling his hair again. “It was no problem Pete, I’ll see you later, yeah?” He watched as the young boy nodded his head, before becoming preoccupied with his makeshift ice rink again.

Tony turned away as the teenager walked out of the house, and looked towards the foot-long aerosol can, lying horizontal on the coffee table.

He picked it up and inspected it, snorting when he realized that the smell he was choking on and the product he had slipped on earlier was Pepper’s hairspray.

“I’ll buy her a new one tomorrow” he thought, as he hoisted his now tired-out kid, onto his lap.

He smiled as Peter curled up on his chest, head resting beside the blue light of the arc reactor. He pressed a small kid on the crown of Peter’s head. “You tired kiddo?”

Peter shook his head petulantly, “I don’t get tired” His bold statement was ruined however, by a large yawn creeping out of his throat. Tony laughed slightly, and slid properly down onto the couch, careful not to jostle the kid too much. He smiled impossibly wider as he heard his son’s breaths become longer, until he was fast asleep.

Tony felt his own eyes slide shut, secure in the knowledge that his kid was right there beside him.

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Journey to Hogwarts - Chapter 5; That damned letter

Gif’s not mine! [Google]

Title: That damned letter Pairing: Sirius Black x OC Word count: 3165 Published: 28 August, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: Here is Chapter 5 to our little project Journey to Hogwarts with Mags [ @kalimagik ], Dee [ @obsessedwithrandomthings​], Steph [ @firewhisky-kisses​ ], Millie [ @iliveiloveiwrite​ ] and myself. 

Series Masterlist: Journey to Hogwarts

My Masterlist: Masterlist 

Desiree arrived at the living room of Grimmauld place first, stumbling out of the fireplace, still unable to get used to the Floo network. Kiara followed closely behind, placing an arm around Des’ shoulder to keep herself steady. She wasn’t wasted, but had enough to stand on shaky legs. Sirius followed behind, stepping beside the two girls as Remus appeared in the room.

“What the hell were you thinking getting home at this hour?” Remus started off on a lecture, but Des waved him off as she heard an annoyed groan from Ki.

“Can we get this over with, after we slept?” Des asked with a stern look, but Remus didn’t seem to care.

“Certainly, I will just wait until you get better, because you have not done anything wrong at all. Of course, not! You went out and got drunk, like two reckless teenagers. Do you really think I will just let you walk away without a word?” He opened his arms in a questioning gesture.

“Do you really think we would be able to listen to any of your rumbling? I’m not even sure we will remember what happened today, let alone remember your ranting. We will see you tomorrow or today. Same difference.” Des heaved a deep sigh as she started off with Ki towards the stairs.

“Don’t you dare think I’m done with you!” He spoke to the back of the two girls, before Ki turned back around to finally give a piece of her mind to the man, but she was cut off.

“Remus! Let them go.” Sirius said as he put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. Des turned around giving Sirius a grateful smile, before she walked upstairs with Kiara on her shoulder.

Des helped Ki to her room, tucking her in, the younger girl falling into deep slumber almost immediately. She chuckled at her friend’s mindless state as she was murmuring something about Neville in her dream, a small smile creeping up on her lips.

She walked back to her room, quickly changing and throwing herself on her bed, rolling under her duvet. She leaned down beside her bed, taking out a letter from the back-pocket of her trousers, hiding it in her nightstand, away from the prying eyes. She didn’t want anyone to see it, let alone Sirius. Her letter to the man was more personal than she intended to write, but the words just came out without a second thought.

Morning came quickly or so she thought as she looked at the clock on the wall showing 5pm. She jumped out of bed, a slight headache making her feel dizzy. She needed food. She went to the bathroom, cleaning herself up, before she headed downstairs.

The house seemed to be deadly silent. She took a seat in the kitchen and as if on cue Kreacher appeared with her food. She didn’t dispute how he knew that she was up, she started stuffing herself with all the delicious dishes across the table.

As she finally felt full and her slight headache disappeared, she recognised two voices coming from the living room.

She walked across the kitchen, darting her head out of the doorway to see an annoyed Remus standing in the living room, across him Ki with a grimace. He was beyond angry at the younger woman. Ki thought he treated her like a child, but he was only looking out for her, trying to protect her. His arms crossed in front of his chest, a sceptical look on his face.

“What were you thinking? All of you getting drunk, when you are still barely out of school? Don’t you think that’s a bit reckless?” He asked, but she just rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed huffing sound.

“I am 24 years old, Remus. I think I am at an age where I do not need a babysitter and I definitely don’t remember hiring one.” She replied, making her friend, Des snicker at her words. She leaned against the doorframe, watching as the scene was unfolding with an amused look on her face.

“I am responsible for you and I am planning to keep you in one piece.” He retorted, his tone firm.

“Which part of I’m an adult don’t you understand? Just stop acting like you're my father - you're not!” Ki raised a brow, lips pursed as she tried to swallow the anger bubbling up inside her.

“I don’t need to be your father to want to protect you. You might be an adult, but you’re new to our world. This is not a child’s playground.” He scoffed, hoping she would finally understand his point.

“If you keep acting like I’m some sort of a naive little teenager, I promise you, I’ll behave like that and you’ll have plenty of time to regret it.” She shrugged, knowing well that she would keep her words.

“This is exactly why I am treating you like a child.” He heaved a deep sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose. Des let out a silent giggle at their bickering. She was lost in enjoying their little drama, she didn’t even recognise the man standing beside her.

“Shouldn’t we stop them? This will escalate quickly.” Sirius raised a brow. Des didn’t turn towards the man, she kept her gaze on the arguing pair.

“Nah, this is way too entertaining.” She smirked, enjoying the moment as if she was watching a comedy show.

“Oh is it, sweetheart? I reckon I could entertain you even more.” Sirius spoke with a confident grin. Des finally turned around, looking into the man’s grey eyes, for a moment getting lost in them, before she composed herself.

“Okay, Black, you got my attention.” She replied with an ever growing smile across her face. Sirius placed his palm on the small of her back, gently guiding her towards the kitchen, pulling out a chair for her. “What a gentleman.” A playful grin spread across her face as she took her seat and watched the man taking out a bottle of firewhisky.

“Only when I want to be.” He shrugged, his smirk cockier than ever.

“Why would you want to be?” Des asked as she put her elbow on the table, placing her jaw into her palm, raising a questioning brow.

“I wouldn’t want a pretty lady like yourself to feel disrespected.” He replied as he filled up two glasses with the alcohol. Des couldn’t hold in an evil chuckle.

“Oh Black, that was really bad.” She breathed as her laughter finally faded.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you?” He asked as he sat down beside her and offered a glass of firewhisky to her with a cheeky wink, making her giggle.

“That sounds more like it.” She raised her glass and clinked it with Sirius’.

The pair continued to talk about themselves and their younger, reckless teenage years. Des was listening to Sirius, completely focusing her attention on him, inhaling every word of his tales about the marauders and their mischievous school days.

They tapped into darker subjects too, revealing parts about his past that Des didn’t know much about, parts that the books didn’t contain. His time in Azkaban was one of his worst memories, but he didn’t seem fazed as Des' confidence got boosted by the alcohol and questioned him almost as if she was interrogating the man.

“Why did you not escape before? I mean, you were there for twelve years. You were an animagus from the very beginning.” She frowned, waiting eagerly for a reply. Sirius stayed silent for a while, collecting his thoughts.

“I guess, I could have escaped earlier, but I felt guilty. It was my idea to use Peter as a secret keeper and after his betrayal, I felt as if it was all my fault. And noone would have believed me if I said Peter was the traitor. I wouldn’t have believed it either.” He shook his head as he took another swig of his whisky.

“But Remus would have believed you, if you just explained it to him.” You tried to understand his logic, but it was beyond you.

“When you lose everyone you love and they cage you in with multiple dementors, sucking even the last remaining hope out of you and you are only clinging to the knowledge of being innocent, it doesn’t really give you the push you need to get up and go.” He offered Des a smile, but she could see through his hidden pain.

“I’m sorry to ask about it.” She spoke in an apologetic tone.

“It’s fine.” He smiled, this time happier. “I can’t imagine how hard it is for you being stuck in a world you thought was a fairytale.”

“You tell me. I got dropped off here thinking it was all part of my imagination, then I realised that I could do magic. Me?” She scoffed in disbelief. “I am loving it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not easy to process.” She frowned, thinking back at the moment the bright light sucked them into this world, that she thought to be a mere invention of a writer’s mind.

“Well, if anything, I am glad you fell into our world.” He smirked as he looked down at her empty glass. She followed his gaze before she returned to his grey eyes.

“If I didn’t know you better, I would think you are trying to get me drunk, Black.” She chuckled as he stood up and opened another bottle of firewhisky.

“Maybe I am.” He smirked, his whole presence radiating confidence.

“Oh, and why is that?” She smirked, biting into her bottom lip.

“Do you two ever stop flirting? Get a room.” Ki walked into the kitchen with a cheeky grin, searching for a bottle of water in the fridge, her words causing a fit of laughter to erupt from Sirius’ lungs.

“I don’t think you would enjoy the noises.” He laughed playfully, watching as Ki’s face took on a darker shade of red. Des stood up from the table, walking over to Sirius to nudge him on the shoulder, but he didn’t mind, he just gave her a sweet smile. She shook her head as she took the bottle of alcohol from the man, filling up her glass, before jumping up on the countertop and getting herself comfortable.

“You should know how to use a silencing charm.” Des quipped in with a playful smile across her face.

“Oh I am excellent at it. I can teach you if you’d like.” He replied wiggling his brows, making her scoff, but her smile didn’t falter. Des looked at Ki as she heard a gagging sound from the table. She imitated the way she was about to throw up, but soon a huge grin appeared across her face, causing Des’ smile to wither realising the devilish grin on her friend’s face.

“What are you up to?” Des asked Ki with a suspicious gaze.

“Did you give the letter to Sirius?” Ki asked, her grin growing by the minute.

“What letter?” Sirius asked with a curious expression, his eyes wandering between the two girls who were having a staring contest.

“I don’t know what she is talking about.” Des spoke, silently trying to suffocate her friend with the deadliest gaze directed at her.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. It’s just a love letter she wrote to you.” Ki smirked, causing Des to slap herself on the forehead as she wanted to dig her own grave in embarrassment.

“I’m listening.” Sirius grinned excitedly, his eyes attached to the fidgeting girl.

“Let’s clear things up, before this conversation takes a whole different turn. I didn’t write a love letter, because I wanted to, but because I was dared to do so, it doesn’t mean anything.” Des quickly tried to explain the situation, heaving a deep sigh as she finished.

“Oh…” Sirius raised a brow. “So you don’t actually think I have kissable lips, nor do you want to run your fingers through my soft black hair, right?” He asked with an innocent smile. Des’ face turned pale for a second, before it took on the darkest shade of red, her eyes wider than ever. “You don’t want me to grab your thighs and push you up against a wall?” She closed her eyes and heaved a deep sigh as she tried to forget each word Sirius was repeating from her letter. “You don’t want to wrap your legs around my waist and kiss me hard, tugging on the end of my hair, moaning into the kiss?” He chuckled playfully. Des could hear Ki’s wholehearted laughter in the background, but her eyes were attached to the owner of the grey irises.

“Enough! How do you even know about those lines? Fred gave back the letter to me. It’s in my room.” She tried to argue, even though she had a feeling the letter in her room was not hers after all.

“Fred put the letter in my pocket last night.” Sirius shrugged, sending a wink at her.

“That little shit.” Des spoke under her breath, sighing deeply.

“I’m just going back to sleep, so enjoy your night, guys.” Kiara grinned happily as she started off towards the door.

“Don’t leave me here now.” Des called after her, but she just chuckled.

“Don’t forget to use protection.” Ki shouted from the bottom of the stairs, making Sirius laugh at her blatant comment, causing Des to groan in an annoyed tone. “And a silencing charm if you don’t mind.” Her laughter died out as she disappeared.

An awkward silence fell upon the pair, or so Des felt like it, whilst Sirius was enjoying her embarrassed state. He walked up to the blushing girl, stepping in between her legs as he placed his hands on her thighs, drawing circles on her exposed skin.

“So you were just dared to write such a detailed letter, right? You didn’t mean any of the words in your letter, huh?” He asked, his smile still unfaded.

“No, I didn’t?” She replied, although it sounded more like a question, her tone unsure of her own words.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, stepping closer, his face barely any inches from Des’ face, his gaze wandering between her brown eyes and pink lips.

“Do we really need to talk about this? Can’t we just change the subject?” She asked, as she felt his closeness too unbearable.

“Oh, no, I am enjoying this way too much.” He chuckled as he watched the girl roll her eyes.

“Well, I don’t. So I would very much appreciate it if you could just ignore that letter.” She huffed in an annoyed tone.

“I don’t want to.” He replied with a shrug, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Well, try it then.” She scoffed as she tried to remove Sirius’ hands from her thighs, but the man was stronger.

“I don’t plan to.” He shook his head, a confident grin spreading wider across his handsome face. Des noted how good looking he was even more so than she imagined in the books. But she didn’t let it get to her.

“Oh, bite me.” Des nudged him on his chest.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He asked playfully, but he didn’t miss the shiver his close presence caused her as he leaned closer, his lips almost grazing hers. “Are you sure you didn’t mean any of your words? I think you really want to run your fingers through my hair, tugging at the ends. I feel like you do want to kiss me.” She knew he was taunting her and she was losing hard. Her eyes were focused on his lips, wanting to feel them against hers, his scent, a mix of alcohol and nicotine finding its way into her nostrils, his presence absorbing her complete attention.

She didn’t even have time to process what was happening, it was too quick. His lips attached to hers, kissing her hungrily, needy. His hand wandered up to her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies melting into one. She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling into the kiss, enjoying the feeling more than she ever thought she would. She moaned into the kiss as he sucked on her bottom lip, making her gently pull at the end of his black locks.

“So you did want to do that?” Sirius chuckled as he broke the kiss, his forehead against hers, his thumbs drawing random patterns on the side of her hips. Her arms hang lazily around his neck, gently playing with the soft strands of his hair.

“Maybe?” She chuckled as she bit into her bottom lip, her gaze fixed on his grey eyes.  

“What about the rest of the letter?” He asked, running his tongue across his lips.

“Can you just forget about that damned letter?” She was almost begging him, scrunching her nose in embarrassment, but her smirk didn’t falter.

“It was way too detailed to forget about it.” He chuckled. “I mean the part where you wrote how you would like me to take you, is definitely my favourite one.” He laughed louder, pulling Des closer as she hid her face in the crook of his neck, her face blushing furiously, her eyes squeezed shut. “But if that helps, I could have a temporary amnesia?” He smiled sweetly as Des pulled away from her hiding place and looked up at the man.

“Would you, really?” She tried again, wearing her most innocent smile. She questioned and Sirius nodded in reply. “Thank you.” She said as she wrapped her arms around the man, hugging him gratefully. “I’m sorry you had to read that though. I didn’t mean for you to see it.” She scratched the back of her neck awkwardly.

“I don’t mind. I actually liked it. Especially how you described the way I took off your clothes hungrily.” His laugh sounded like a bark.

“Sirius! You said, you would temporarily forget it.” She huffed in an annoyed tone.

“Oh sweetheart, we didn’t agree to a time or date.” He chuckled, placing his hands on her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “Maybe from tomorrow.”

“Oh hell no.” She pushed him away and jumped down from the counter, trying to walk away, but Sirius grabbed her from behind, pulling her back against his chest.

“Where are you off to?” He whispered into her ear, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin, shivering slightly under his closeness.

“I am very clearly trying to get away from you.” She replied as she removed his hands from her waist and quickly headed towards the exit. However before she completely stepped out of the room, she turned back around, looking at the man with a playful smirk across her face, leaving a chuckling Sirius behind with an amused look. He shook his head before he heaved a deep sigh and fell back on his chair, his happy smile wider than ever. 

Tags: @just-an-outstanding-auror​ @jenniweaslee​ @hufflefluff-writer​ @ravenclaw-member​ 

Notes: If you enjoyed the chapter, don’t forget to like, comment and reblog. Thank you :)  

If you want to be tagged on our list, please do let us know, Here!

[thelucyverse]

Lily | Elizabeth

Elizabeth Alcott is born in a small town not far from England, except she isn't called Elizabeth nor Alcott then, yet. She is born Lily Evans, second daughter to a lower-middle-class nonmagical married couple with a pretty, well cared for house in a nice-enough neighborhood.

Lily's sister Petunia teases her little sister and fights with her, but mostly she plays with her, protects her, and lets everyone know that she is the only one allowed to make fun of her little red-headed sister. That is, until Lily finds other friends, friends in primary school, friends in the park between their neighborhood and the not-quite-so-nice-enough neighborhood on the other side. There's one boy in particular she likes to meet up with, and while Petunia first easily teases her about being in looove, her teasing soon turns more bitter than light-hearted because Lily doesn't seem to have time for her anymore, and Petunia never had an easy time making friends other than her sister, alright, and anyhow most of the things Lily and that Snape boy are doing are just unnatural, alright? Jumping from the swingset and flying, really flying through the air afterwards, letting flowers bloom in their hands and catching more butterflies on their skin than Petunia ever caught in a net. Her sister turns jealous and bitter, and Lily barely notices. Her acceptance to Hogwarts while Petunia stays behind is really just the last straw to break their family ties apart, even if it comes out of the blue for Lily.

Meanwhile, she makes new friends in Hogwarts, girls who share her love for muggle as well as wizarding fiction, other students to study with in the library, but she does stay in contact with her first magical friend, too. They turn to aliases in their letters when Lily writes to him when Sev is at Hogwarts over the holidays while Lily is at her loving home (loving, still, despite her jealous sister), because his house mates shouldn't know he is conversing quite so much with a known mudblood, and Petunia shouldn't know she is still writing to that boy. Lily calls herself Elizabeth, after the heroine in Pride and Prejudice, and Alcott after the author of Rose in Bloom. Both names old enough to fool any pureblood into thinking that Severus is writing to a half-blood at least, while so muggle in origin that it is making Lily smile. The first time she signs with the name, Sev asks whether he can call her Lizzie then, and ends up having to explain about the sister of the author and gifting her another book, 'Little Women', for Christmas (or Yule).

With her friends (or despite them, at times), Lily/Lizzie learns all about magic in Hogwarts, especially the different charms, how they work and what you can do with them in all aspects of life, as well as potions, which are Severus' passion. She has fun, she is a happy child and young teenager, but it cannot stay that way. A war is at the horizon, and everyone in the magical world - adult, student, child - is dragged into it, whether they want to and particularly care for one side over the other or not. Her first friend makes his choices, and she makes her own. She finds new friends along the way, a boyfriend even and his friends are quickly becoming close to her, too, and they all work together in their last months of school and the time after, to fight, to win this war once and for all.

Lily and James were supposed to marry not long after graduation, because when there is a war going on, no-one has any time to lose.

Perhaps there would have been a prophecy made, a child born, a dark lord vanquished and the parents' lives over.

But not in this world, not in this universe.

The good thing about the multiverse and the agents working cross-verse within it is that, when for once a universe opens up at a point in time where they know something bad happens, and they have fought the same fight in a different 'verse before, they can step in and stop it all much quicker than anyone who is lacking that bigger picture. They destroy the horcruxes, kill Tom Riddle, check his followers for compulsions and the like and turn quite some of them over to the local authorities. And the other people, those who fought for the light? Some would just leave them in that dark about what happens, leave the universe again now that the job is done, and in fact quite a number of them do just that. But there is no rule against talking, this isn't a time-travel conundrum but a truly different universe with a different future now, and one or more of the multiverse agents think people deserve to know the truth of what happened, of what could have happened, of why certain people were arrested - Peter Pettigrew hadn't turned his friends over to Voldemort yet and what a different universal of his has done is not a crime he can be imprisoned for, but he has been found out to already pass different information on to the death eaters, and while he has avoided azkaban and has gotten out on parole to do community service, his friends - former friends - are still disgusted with him, and even more so when they hear about what could have been, would have been.

The agents are careful to say that just because someone was evil in one universe, it doesn't mean the same is true here, people are shaped by their experiences much more than their DNA - but Peter is too much the same as the stories about a traitor portray him, and neither the Marauders nor Lily trust him anymore. They can't look in his face, neither can Lily look at Severus, and when one of the multiverse agents offers transport to their home world and planet to everyone willing to leave this world behind in exchange for holding onto a gadget for a year that will make them an emergency contact for anyone in need, a safe place for the injured, a callcenter for the lost, the four of them all readily accept.

Bajor of the universe two-to-the-left of their old one is a beautiful place, with its own conflicts an religions and only few magic workers around, and they find their place there easily, especially James, who wants to settle down after all, to have the wedding now almost a year (not quite, as days and months move different here than on earth) later than planned, to have a child and create a home - and Lily - no, Elizabeth, now, because no matter who she first shared the nickname with, it is hers now, and she knows there might be another Lily Evans elsewhere in this new universe, and she wants a name of her own - Elizabeth says no. There is a whole universe out there - yes, multiverse too, but right now she is more concerned with the fact that there are different planets and such different ways of understanding magic and so many new things that need discovering - why would she ever want to 'settle down'?

They have a talk, and a fight, and another talk, and maybe it could have worked out in a long-distance kind of way, but - it was a relationship born from war and very set expectations, a relationship started in school, the first serious relationship either of them had - and after the third long talk way into the never-quite-as-dark-as-they-are-used-to night on this new planet, they decide to part on amicable terms. Maybe, they think, maybe they will meet up again later, when their life goals align properly again and they find they are still in love... Instead, Jimmy Potter marries a local woman a year later and has a child that calls out "Auntie Elizabeth!" whenever she visits, and it is as if it had always meant to be this way.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth travels far and works hard in a lot of different jobs, psi-null or magical, to afford the journeys to different planets, and then she works on-planet too most of the time instead of taking a proper vacation, because there are always people that need help one way or other, and she is always ready to give it when she can. By the time she is thirty, she has made a name of herself in this universe, though not as much of a name as the dead variants of herself have on their own planets. She is called reliable, strong and ingenious and sometimes pretty instead of a beautiful heroine mother, and she is called so by perhaps the same number of people, just stretched much farther across a universe.

She is still called brave.

When she comes across another agent of the multiverse - of Central, as she now knows - she asks for a job with them, to see even more far-away places, even if some are more familiar to her than she has seen in a long time. She works as a spellmaker at first, to combine magical means and electricity to make inter-universal portals more durable and reliable, but after a few too many occasions where she ends up going with a research and rescue team who come through a portal of hers, she is officially included in their numbers, wearing the tight uniform of the universal jumpers because any excess air between you and the fabric makes it more likely for you to end up nude on the other side of a portal door, when the calculations aren't exactly right. She pulls on a witch's cloak over her uniform, even though she does tend to lose them around the portals more often than not, because the clothing still makes her feel at home after all this time, and because no matter where you end up, a neutral-coloured robe stands out much less than the gleaming high-tech uniform shirts.

Between missions, Lizzie visits Jim and his wife and two children, and her new friend Georgiana she had once helped search a long-lost lover, and other acquaintances from the universe she called home for the second-longest time.

It takes her a while to be comfortable around her home planet again, even in different universes, different lands, different times. It takes her even longer to go back to any kind of Hogwarts, but when she does - over fifty, experienced in a lot of things including disguises but not even really needing one because she is older than Lily Evans here ever got to be, older even than she would be now, and her hair is a darker colour anyway from working with the portal radiation (that no, isn't dangerous, Cleo tested this) and then from colouring it because she got used to it - when she goes back to this old and still so new world, earth, 1990s, Hogwarts after a war the agents have not quite managed to intercept this time, but at least they can help with the aftermath - when she arrives there, she feels a nostalgic shudder of home, but at the same time she knows that her home has long been elsewhere now, not settled down anywhere but in the fast movings of Central, in the groups of people she works with and calls friends, in the stars.

And if she finds a man there who reminds her of an old friend of hers - but not really, because not only is he kinder than her former friend has ever been, but he is also older than she had ever known that other version of him, yet ten years younger than she is now - and they are confused about each other at first, then work with each other despite it, then get to know each other as the separate people they are - and if she falls in love with someone so bound to a world, universe and planet, by his profession and an adopted son (who has her universal's eyes, but not her own), then this time, she knows she can make long-distance work.

She finds new friends there too, when she now spends most of her downtime there instead of with her old friends and ex-boyfriend, in a woman who killed her first husband when he tried to kill her son and then when Central came went on adopting first all the children of her universal versions less loving than herself, then younger versions of herself, too; and in a woman from a universe one to the right who had travelled back in time a number of years, and in a woman she never thought she would ever see a friendly universal-version of but is now convinced that DNA does not shape anyone to be evil -

And Elizabeth Alcott has a wonderful, fulfilled, long life.

[malereader-inserts]

Emoticon

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader Summary: Soulmarks, they’re supposed to be cute, perhaps cringy, but Peter? Well, it’s...creative to say the least. Word Count: 1,305 A/n: This is so stupid. | Want to support me? Kofi! | WHO’S READY FOR THE NEXT TWO YEARS OF MARVEL - PHASE FOUR HERE I COME 

The moment Peter turned eighteen, he was asked one thing. 

What’s your soul mark?

Tony texted him at three in the morning, voice recording himself singing happy birthday before texting him what’s his soul mark. May came in bright and early, holding a birthday cake and singing Happy Birthday to wake him up. Then Ned and Mj started spamming the group chat with messages and Peter hadn’t even had his birthday breakfast made by the courtesy of not Aunt May.

Peter ignored his friends and all the text messages until he got ready for the day, as he wipes off the mist of the mirror and stared at himself in the mirror, that’s when he saw his soul mark.

Grumbling and grovelling as he pulls down his shirt, May knocks on the bathroom door as Peter drys his hair with a towel.

“Have you found it?”

“It’s a stupid emoticon,” Peter answers, as his aunt looked confused until he brings up his shirt to show his ribcage and there it was:

;)

May started to laugh as Peter rolls his eyes, but he grins. It’s authentic at least, it’s not one of those sappy or generic soul marks that everyone gets. May kisses his forehead before bidding him goodbye. He suits up and packs his clothes in his rucksack, pulling down his mask and readjust his bag on his shoulder.

He jumps out the window and swings his way unnoticed through New York city to Avengers base. Happy was relieved that he hadn’t need to drive all the way through Queen to get Peter, in fact, he’ll never tell Happy that swinging through the buildings and city was a fast commute to work.

Tony gets a scare of his life when Peter slams into the widows of his lab. Tony almost spills his coffee all over himself as he turns to scowl at the kid, who unmasked himself, sheepishly smiling as he waves and climbing through the window.

“There are doors, kid,” Tony scowls, “And what are you swinging from? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Peter simply smiles, says no words as he goes off to his specially made bedroom at the base, when it’s far too late to get back home or the days he was designated to sleep over. He gets changed into his everyday clothes before bouncing his way to the lab.

“So, you’re eighteen now,” Tony greeted, sparing the teen a glance before looking back down, “What’s your soul mark?”

“Not telling you,” Peter replies as Tony looked up, throwing a greasy cloth at the kid, “And there’s nothing you can do to make me tell you.”

“I doubt it,” Tony snarked back, pouting like a child, “Come on Pete! You tell me everything!”

“Not this time, Mr Stark,” Peter says with a smile.

“Traitor,” Tony huffs, “Speaking on the topic of your eighteenth, what time is your birthday meal?”

Of course, as soon as Peter turns eighteen, it was agreed that they should celebrate it. Although it wasn't as special as twenty-first, eighteen marks adulthood in a way and soul mark branding. So, Peter had invited Tony and Pepper for the meal with him and Peter.

“Seven,” Peter replies, looking at his current project.

“I wish my son could be there,” Peter looks up to look at Tony, he was smiling to himself.

“You have a son?”

“Why is everyone so surprise when I say I have a son?” Tony exclaimed, offended, shaking his head, “Yeah, he’s, ah, your age - eighteen. But, he graduated from MIT last year and been touring the world for a year.”

“Touring the world?”

“Oh, you know, after graduation, he packed his bags and went exploring. The kid is amazing, Pete, you’re going to love him. He got back last night but Pepper told me I can’t hang out with my own son because he’s catching up on lost sleep and he’s jet lag.”

Peter simply smiles, “I look forward to meeting him.”

Peter doesn’t know what he was expecting when he was going to meet Tony’s son, you. Tony Stark has been known to be one of the most good looking men of the world so Peter shouldn’t be so surprised when he sees a guy standing taller than him with similarities with Tony Stark.

Still, when Peter arrived at the base, it had been a week since his birthday and Tony was still no closer in finding out what Peter’s soul mark.

“Hey, Peter!” Tony calls out, just as Peter lands his first foot into his second home, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

When he comes closer, he already sees how damn charming you looked, and then you flashed him a smile Peter could almost fall just them. It’s almost as if the heavens had opened up behind you, a choir was singing and a halo had appeared behind your head - oh wait, nevermind,  it was just the sun.

You, on the other hand, had seen a lot of pictures of Peter - your dad likes to do weekly updates with you and when you have a signal wherever you are you would message him. You knew a lot about Peter and you’ve seen a lot of pictures of him. You knew his alter self, you knew his superhero status, you knew his interest through your dad.

So, seeing him face to face, you could not believe it. He was shorter than you expected, despite being the same height as your dad. But, face value, his adorableness rating was shooting through the roof. He was adorable and yet very handsome at the same time.

“Peter meet (Y/n), my son.”

You clasped his hand for a firm handshake, Peter doesn’t seem to shake your hand but just hold it in place, almost he was too awestruck with your looks.

“Semicolon right parenthesis,” You teases, there was a glint of mischief in your eyes.

“Less-than three,” Peter says back, almost instantly.

Peter and you finally snap back as you shake hands, but you two don’t let go of each other’s hand. Peter almost beams when you crack a smile.

“You two are weird,” Tony acknowledges, oblivious, “And I thought (Y/n) was so out of the loop that he wouldn’t be joining your weirdness, Pete.”

You shrugged your shoulder, dropping your hand from Peter’s grasp, Peter wants to grab you again, to feel the electricity that you create.

“Hey, you’re the one updating me on current events and current memes.”

“Not my fault! Peter is the one always striding in with some weird shit that I have to have Friday search it up for me!” Tony exclaimed, looking between the two teenagers, not noticing how they haven’t stopped staring at each other, “Whatever, I’m going to the lab.”

Tony walks away, leaving you and Peter standing in front of each other, just staring.

“So, you’ve been walking around with a winky face emoticon on you?” You finally break the silence.

“Only a week,” Peter admits, “and you’ve been exploring the world with a heart emoticon.”

You both give each other a look before breaking into laughter, everything seemed natural to be with you - Peter thinks. He bites the inside of his mouth to prevent him from grinning like an absolute idiot.

“I haven’t been in New York for like a year, I don’t know many good places to hang out or whatever.”

“I  can definitely show you,” Peter exclaimed, words came pouring out faster than his brain could process, “I can’t drive though.”

“You’re in luck,” You say, digging through your pockets to fish out your car keys, Peter grins.

He grasps your hands and starts pulling you towards the exit, he doesn’t think he’d get used to that electrifying touch you create, but worry not, he likes it anyway.

[centavrvs]

⧼   saoirse ronan, cis female, she/her   /   kitchen fork by jack conte + & once you were the wildfire, eager to devour, leaping from branch to bush, but then the rainstorm came and now, now you are the cold, abandoned hearth, empty flames snapping at those who get to close, afraid they’ll realise what isn’t there, & the click of the door as it shuts behind you is the only greeting you receive as you wonder how anyone ever knows what to call “home”, & as you sit in your old patchwork armchair, perpetually cold fingers clutched too tightly around a slightly chipped mug of tea you can’t help but think maybe only you are the answer to the question you have been asking your whole life – where do I belong?   ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that HEATHER PETTIGREW? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the TWENTY THREE year old half blood WITCH is a SLYTHERIN alumnus who has gone on to be a PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR AND PART-TIME FLOURISH AND BLOTTS ASSISTANT. i’ve heard they can be quite INGENIOUS & PUNCTILIOUS, but i don’t know… they came off very CALLOUS & MERCURIAL in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?

 [ PERSONALITY ]

heather is not a very open person. she tends to keep to herself and hold everyone at an arms length

to anyone who knew her at hogwarts - this is a complete switch around from how she acted back then. she used to be loud and in your face, refusing to be ignored

if heather has retained one trait from her childhood it is her penchant for unintentional cruelty. her distancing can come off as cold and her social self-defense mechanism tends to aim at hurting others before they can hurt her

speaking of a social self-defense system, heather, despite outward appearances, has a tendency to snap without warning when under emotional duress or when others try to get closer than she wants them too. a proximity alarm if you will

but if you manage to make it past this, you will find heather is actually very clingy and a very loyal friend (almost gryffindor-ish)

she loves puzzles and solving problems (hence, private investigator) and strives to become extremely successful at her investigation job but people do tend to think twice before hiring her (being a pettigrew and ex-death eater and all)

books! reading is one of her favourite pastimes and that has nothing to do with the sense of relief escaping into a fictional world brings

the friend you can sit in companionable silence with but also the friend who will talk to you for hours about an obscure concept she stumbled across and also the friend who will whisper slightly mean jokes in your ear so you laugh and get all the weird looks while she escapes unscathed

doesn’t buy into the blood purity bullshit and if she’s being honest with herself, she never did

crippling fear of abandonment / never finding a place to “belong”

tl;dr: not coping with what happened during the war

[ THE LOVERS ]

The year was 1996 and Peter Pettigrew was a traitor, a cheat and a liar. In the midst of the first wizarding world war, he had betrayed his friends and switched sides. He would eventually go on to be the catalyst for the death of countless friends of his, the orphaning of a child and the rebirth of the dark lord, however, in the moment such misdeeds were merely shadows of the future. Right now in fact, Peter was simply at a bar. A muggle bar. Talking to a muggle girl. And her name was Angela Coates.

And such is the story of how Heather’s parents met. It was never a relationship, per say, more of a friends-with-benefits, minus the “friends” part. For Peter, this was a break from the wizarding world and its war, and it posed no risk of awkward questions concerning allegiance. For Angela, it was a way to blow off some steam. No strings and certainly no commitments. That is, until January of 1997 and Angela found herself knocking on Peter’s door with, sick to her stomach with nerves. The door opened and after a relatively quick argument, it shut again. Peter had made it clear – he didn’t want a child and he refused to play any part in the baby’s life. Angela was all of 20 years old, single and pregnant.

[ THE EMPRESS ] 

TW – MENTIONS OF DRUGS, AND ALLUDES TO NEGLECT

On the 27th of October of that very year, Heather Debbie Pettigrew was born. Heather because Angela had read the name in a magazine and like the sound of it, Debbie after the lead singer of Blondie, Angela’s favourite band and Pettigrew because Angela thought in some odd way this was making Heather a part of Peter’s life, something he clearly didn’t want. A revenge move that only ever served to hurt Heather, but Angela was not to know this.

Circumstances aside, Angela was not cut out to be a mother. She was the quintessential twenty-year-old, living life hard and fast and Heather was an unexpected speed bump that didn’t do much to slow her down. As soon as Heather was old enough, she was sent off to daycare, while her mother worked full-time to put money in the bank and the pockets of local drug dealers. Angela wasn’t entirely incompetent. She knew to keep most of her illicit activities hidden from her child (as far as Angela knew, Heather had no idea – Heather would tell you otherwise). The longest time Heather would spend with her mother was while sat on the couch watching television, her mother out cold beside her. Desperate for the attention of others, Heather was by no means a well-behaved child. This, combined with the assortment of strange incidents and accidents that Heather seemed to get herself into that had no plausible explanation was too much for Angela. When Heather was eight years old, Angela realised she couldn’t keep living the life she was living and care for Heather. And so Heather was dropped on the steps of a foster home, with a note that gave a few details about her and she never saw Angela again.

TW OVER

[ THE MAGICIAN ]

By the time Heather joined her first foster family, she had long since accepted that Mummy didn’t want her and, despite what she had said – she wasn’t coming back. The adults had told her that she didn’t need to lash out all the time and that she should try sit quite, behave properly, but none of them understood. When she said she didn’t know how Emilia’s doll had ended up in pieces, she meant she hadn’t even touched it! Heather tried to fit in with these people, she really did, but this was a muggle family fostering a magical child. After a particular incident involving a broken window and a trip to the hospital (magic was, ironically, not involved in this), the family decided that Heather just wasn’t for them. Feeling left behind once more, Heather was quickly matched with another couple eager to foster. But the branch had already been burnt and she was not to be reaching out to these people any time soon. A welcome reprieve soon came in the form of a lady wearing robes and a pointy hat knocking on the door of the couple’s flat in Birmingham. The explanation for previously unexplainable scenarios calmed the couple considerably and Heather felt a small flame of hope spark in her chest. A magical world? It all made sense now. Of course, she didn’t belong here, she was a witch.

Heather’s first step into Diagon Alley will forever hold a place in her most cherished memories. The sounds, the sights, the smells – everything felt right. She was whisked through the usual first year trip around stores, buying robes and cauldrons and books and a wand! Hogwarts couldn’t come quick enough. And the sorting ceremony? It all sounded fascinating. Personally, Heather was hoping for Ravenclaw, but she knew not to have any solid expectations.

Which was lucky, for although the hat certainly considered the blue and the bronze, in the end it decided that silver and green would suit Miss Heather more. A choice that Heather would later come to question. For in Slytherin house Heather came face to face with her first taste of blood purity. And she didn’t like it one bit. Who were these older students, to question her “blood status”? And how was she to know? Determined to uncover any knowledge of her family, Heather poured over the student records in the library until – there. Peter Pettigrew, graduated 1978. It fit! Heather was more than a little relieved. At least one magical parent. She had been worried she would be one of those, what did that older boy call them? Oh yes, mudbloods.

But the discovery of her father’s name opened another can of worms – where was he? Ever the independent child, Heather was determined to find out on her own. And she did, stumbling upon an old article in the Daily Prophet. He was dead. Murdered. By his own best friend. She truly had no proper family left ( her mother stopped counting long ago). Hogwarts, while a chance to be in the world she belonged to, did not help build a strong relationship with her foster family. Heather rarely saw them, choosing to spend her days in summer exploring wizarding London or, when she was older, spending the nights with the muggle teenagers who partied too loudly down the street. Home was simply a stop-over. She belonged at Hogwarts now.

In her second year, Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer and the man who killed her father escaped from Azkaban. Heather was terrified. And angry. But mostly terrified. She hated that man, hated seeing his stupid face in the Daily Prophet, hated hearing his awful name whispered in the halls. How dare he rip the only family member who would have loved her away from her, how dare he rob her of the chance of a proper home? For surely, if her father had survived that horrific attack, he would have raised her, her would have taken her in. Instead, she was left alone and Black now roamed free, free after escaping Azkaban and free after slipping through the ministry’s fingers once more.

And the very next year, Cedric died. It was the first of many darker stains on Heather’s memories of Hogwarts. Despite what the Ministry said, what everyone seemed to say, she could sense a tense current winding its way through the halls of her school. Voldemort or not, something dark had returned from that graveyard.

[ THE EMPEROR ] 

Heather was 16 years old when she discovered her father was in fact, alive. Standing in the Slytherin common room at the start of her fifth year, the murmured conversation of two older students reaching her ears. Heather was 16 years old when she discovered her father was alive and he was a Death Eater. The force of such a revelation left Heather reeling. She couldn’t pay attention in class, she couldn’t finish her meals, she couldn’t sleep. He had been alive this entire time. Did he not wan- no. No of course he would have wanted her he, he just must not have known! Yes, he was unaware of Heathers existence and it would be up to her to go to him. Heather grabbed all her doubts and questions about her father’s secret (lie?) and shoved into a deep, dark corner of her mind where she could hopefully ignore them. She had a purpose now. She needed to see her father. And to do that – she would join the Death Eaters. The stories Heather spun to convince herself were many and varied. This was a chance to belong to something bigger than just Hogwarts, she needed to pick the right side in this war anyway, this would keep her safe. But above all – this would make her father proud. Never mind the bitter weight in her chest that burned with something suspiciously like guilt, never mind the whisper-quite voice in the back of her mind that pleaded with her to do better, be better. This was the right choice. (Spoiler: it wasn’t).

[ THE TOWER ]

Heather was 17 when she killed a muggle. She was 17, shaking hands barely holding onto her wand at her side as her body went cold along with the one on the floor in front of her. It wasn’t meant to end like this, it had been a simple enough task, capture a muggle for the Dark Lord, something she could, she should have been able to undertake on her winter break. But then he had a knife and objects were being thrown and...and now someone was dead. The mark flared to life, the burning a welcome reprieve from the numbness that had spread from her hand, across her whole body. She was to meet the Dark Lord himself.

Heather was 17 when she first saw her father. The Dark Lord was speaking, addressing those before him but Heather heard none of it.  All she could see was that thing, all but crouched at the feet of the man in front of him. He was a starving dog begging for scraps. And he never even looked at her. Not when she entered the room, not when Voldemort started to speak and not when she was called by her name. The world Heather had painstakingly built in her mind, each brick filled with another lie to get her out of bed in the morning, was crashing down around her head. Peter Pettigrew didn’t want her.

Heather was left with nought but the rubble of her life and the mark chaining her to all she hated splashed across her arm. She drifted through her sixth year, hoping and praying for the first time in her life to be left alone. And then came the Battle of Hogwarts.

Watching your school turn into a battleground, watching your peers lie dead in the hallways, watching children fighting for their lives – Heather didn’t feel like a child anymore. She felt like a soldier, reluctantly shoved into a fight she didn’t start. But it was amongst the chaos and the death that Heather could finally attempt at what her conscience had been screaming for her to do. Disguised by rubble and school robes, Heather fired spell after spell at the very Death Eaters she could have been standing beside. And then Voldemort lost.

[ THE PRESENT ]

The war and everything leading up to it doused the fire that used to roar in Heather’s chest. She was pardoned, for fighting for the “right side”, (and no one ever knew about the muggle) but it doesn’t feel like it. Some days it feels like she is hated more for her last name than the dark mark on her arm, especially after the truth about Sirius Black came to light. She feels torn in two - on one hand it feels like a worthy punishment for her misdeeds, on the other - she just wants to live her life and she can assure you no one hates Peter Pettigrew more than she does. But Heather is tired of fighting. So she simply does whatever job someone will hire a PI with two social strikes against their name for and she works part-time shifts at Flourish and Blotts and when she comes home to an apartment emptier and colder than her bones feel, she does. not. cry. 

[elisaphoenix13]

Flirting and Gossip

It was early morning, so Tony wouldn't be up for another couple of hours, and it was summer break for Peter so he probably wouldn't be up until noon at the latest. Stephen cherished mornings like these. He could drink his tea, read in actual silence, and properly meditate without having to go to the Sanctum or Kamar-Taj.

He promised to take Peter to Nepal after some begging and puppy eyes the sorcerer couldn't say no to. He was an excitable kid but Stephen knew he would be as respectable as possible and stay out of the way of training sorcerers. If he needed to, he could probably distract Peter with the wi-fi while he worked with the more advanced students.

The rattle of the fridge opening startles Stephen from his thoughts, and surprise is evident on his face when he looks over his shoulder to see someone digging through its contents.

"Peter?"

Scott moves away with a capri-sun and closes the door. "Nope."

"What are you doing here Lang?"

"Getting my morning juice box."

Stephen scowls. "I thought I told you to stop drinking Peter's juice."

"I said I'll stop when Tony stops buying it."

The sorcerer closes his book with a heavy sigh when Scott sits across from him. "Why do I feel like you want something?"

"I wanted juice."

"You have it." Stephen deadpans. 

Scott shrugs. "Maybe I want to hang out with you."

"So much for my quiet morning."

Stephen stands up and walks over to the fridge to pull out some things for breakfast, and his eyes twitches when Scott slurps his juice noisily. He didn't react though, that was what Scott wanted and he wasn't going to give him that kind of power. Not that it was really much power in the first place.

He was also very aware of Scott's unwanted growing attraction to him. What used to be harmless compliments was turning into obvious eyeballing, and Tony, the unhelpful bastard, thought the whole thing was hilarious. Stephen was almost tempted to let Scott do something just to get the billionaire to take it seriously. Almost.

"Sausage or bacon?"

"Depends on who it's for."

Before he can roll his eyes, an audible thwap sounds and Stephen turns just as Peter bungees the ex-criminal up to the ceiling and covers him with more webbing, effectively sticking the man to the ceiling. The teen sits at the island with annoyance and Stephen smiles at him and then turns back to the stove.

"Isn't this a little extreme?" Scott asks.

"Stop flirting with my mom." Peter angles his head to look up at the trapped man. "You can stay up there and think about what you've done."

"What?! Your webs don't dissolve for two hours!"

Peter grins. "Actually that's the experimental formula. I have no idea how long it takes."

"That's just mean."

Both Peter and Stephen ignore Scott's rambling after that and the sorcerer slides a plate full of breakfast to Peter. The teen mumbles his thanks as he digs in, and Stephen fills his own plate and leans against the counter to munch lazily on his own.

"You're up early."

Peter swallows his mouthful of eggs. "I think I'm still on school time."

"In that case, I need to make an appearance at Kamar-Taj if you--"

Peter's eyes widen and he inhales the rest of his breakfast, then blushes when Stephen gives him an unimpressed look. "S-Sorry.  I've just been waiting ages to be able to go with you! Will you teach me magic?!"

"Not today cub. You are going to quietly observe and explore." Peter pouts and the sorcerer takes his empty plate. "Go get dressed."

Peter didn't need to be told twice. He was off like a bat out of hell and Stephen washes their dishes after filling a third plate and shoving it in the microwave. 

"FRIDAY, please tell Tony his breakfast is in the microwave when he wakes up."

"Of course doctor. Shall I tell him of your whereabouts as well?" The AI asks kindly.

Stephen smirks. "No need. Scott can tell him."

He walks over to the floating cloak in the living room and throws it around his shoulders as his robes replace his pajamas, and opens a portal to the mystical compound. Peter races out as the sorcerer steps through and Scott yells for the boy's attention.

"Hey shortstack! Let me down!"

"No way! You deserve that, homewrecker!"

Stephen coughs to hide his laugh as Peter steps through the portal, and he closes it before turning and leaving the room with the teen following close behind.

"Stay close for now. Do you have your phone?"

"Yeah but I thought there wasn't any reception here?"

"We have wi-fi."

"Magical monks use the internet?" Levi smacks the back of Peter's head. "Ow! It was a joke!" He rubs his head and look around. "Where are we going?"

Stephen grabs the teen's shoulder and carefully steers him through another door and out to the compound's training grounds. There a small group of trainees spar with their partners, and Peter watches in wonderment at the different relics being used. A few resting sorcerers look at the teen curiously and whisper to each other, but Peter's enhanced hearing was easily able to pick it up.

"What is the Sorcerer Supreme doing with a child? Is he a new apprentice?" One whispers.

Another scoffs. "There have been rumors that he was co-parenting an orphan. It looks like they're true."

Well the orphan part stung.

The whispers only got worse as Stephen pushes him onto the bench by the lone tree.

"...a distraction..."

"He can't do his job properly with the boy around."

"...ter..."

Then the worst of all...

"He's going to get the Sorcerer Supreme killed."

Hearing his worst fear come from someone rather than his head was a huge reality check. Was he really keeping Stephen from his duties? A distraction?

A danger to his life?

"Peter!"

Peter jolts to attention and looks up at Stephen who gently reaches out and wipes away the tears traitorously rolling down his cheeks. The teen swallows thickly as he gently pushes scarred hands away, only for the sorcerer's arms to cross and an eyebrow raises expectantly. Stephen was too attentive sometimes. He could read Peter like a book.

"What are they saying and who is saying it?"

Peter sighs. "They're saying I'm a distraction and that I'll get you killed."

"Who?"

The teen discreetly points out four trainees across the grounds and Stephen conjures the bands of Cyttorak around the offending people and yanks them to the middle of the grounds. They all yelp in surprise and watch Stephen with apprehension after they regain their footing, and the Sorcerer Supreme waves Levi off to the side. Once the cloak obeys, Stephen glances back at Peter and points to the ground next to him.

"Come here." Peter does as he asks silently and Stephen takes a few steps away before looking at the trainees and motioning to the teen. "Attack him."

The younger mystics look at him as if he asked them to kill a puppy, but Peter was quick to realize Stephen's objective. He could dodge most magic thanks to training between Wanda, Loki, and Stephen himself, and anything he couldn't would probably be deflected by the sorcerer.

"Sir...with all due respect--"

"This is today's exercise. Now attack him. By yourselves or together, I don't care, just do it."

It took a few moments for the first attack to happen and it was hesitant. One of the three males approaches Peter and throws a punch, but he simply catches the man's fist without batting an eye. The moment Peter pushes him away, the other three retrieve their relic weapons from a nearby stand and rush the teen with their own attacks.

Peter uses his senses to dodge and deflect both physical and magical weapons and attacks, and made sure to stay on the defensive so he didn't accidently hurt the mystic warriors. A spell aimed at his chest is deflected by a magical barrier, something that took both Peter and his attackers by surprise, but they quickly refocus and surround the teen.  Once they all lunge at him, Peter jumps up to the tree branch above him, and he crouches on the wooden limb as the four stop mid-attack and look up at him in shock.

"That's enough." Stephen steps back to the center when the four trainees step back in a line. "Can someone tell me why I asked you to do that?"

"To prove the typical lesson not to judge a book by its cover." The lone female says.

"Yes...but you also need to be aware of the fact that he was holding back. He could easily lay all of you out."

"Where did that shield come from?" One of the men ask.

"A simple protection spell." Stephen's lips quirk in amusement at Peter's whisper of 'You're such a mom' from above him. Just loud enough for the sorcerer supreme to hear. "With that said, I never want to hear about my son being ridiculed again. He is not keeping me from my duties, and he is certainly not a distraction. At least not an unwanted one." Stephen turns away and Peter jumps down next to him when he gestures for the boy. "You are excused."

Stephen walks away once Levi returns to his rightful place on the man's shoulders and Peter follows him to the entry room of the compound. He is approached by another master of the mystic artes and she hands him a silver tin and Stephen smiles.

"Thank you. I was running low."

The woman smiles. "Your family getting on your nerves?"

Peter scrunches his nose. "Hey!"

Stephen chuckles. "The Avengers actually...and America's idea of tea is a joke."

"We can't always have our tea leaves blessed by a holy man." Peter snarks.

He is promptly rewarded by another slap from Levi.

"I'll be sure to get you more next time."

"That would be appreciated. Now excuse me while I give this smart-ass teenager a tour."

"I'm sure he learned from the best."

Stephen rolls his eyes. "Oh, ha ha."

The doctor leads Peter away after pocketing the tea tin and fulfills his promise of a tour of the compound. It only took about a couple of hours but Peter seemed to love every second of it. The overzealous side of him came out as he hastily asked questions one after another, barely giving Stephen any time to answer them, until the sorcerer finally opened a portal back to the tower. They both step through into the living room, and when they round the corner into the kitchen, they find Tony looking up at the ceiling. They both follow his gaze and Peter laughs when they find Scott still stuck to the top of the room.

"He's still up there?! It's been like five hours!"

Scott groans. "This has been the most boring day of my life, and I've been under house arrest."

Tony looks down at Peter. "Sooo...wanna tell me why Tic-tac is up there in the first place?"

"He was hitting on Mom."

The genius blinks before grinning and pulling Peter into a side hug. "That's my boy!"

"Are you seriously encouraging his behavior?!" Scott gawks. 

"Of course!" Tony points up at Lang. "You deserve that. I told you Mama Bear is mine."

"I'm not an object." Stephen grumbles.

"Yes you are. The object of my affection. Now be quiet Stephanie."

The webbed ex-criminal sighs. "I hate my life."

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Those Comics | Chapter One

Marvel/DC crossover x reader Warnings: Swearing and reallllllly, reallllllly bit of Angst (not really) Word count: 3353  Summary: When a sparring session with Wanda goes wrong, you find yourself in a really familiar, but still strange place... Series: You’re here | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

"Why are you always reading those comics? Don't they get boring after some time?" Tony asked coming into the living room where you sat upside down on a fluffy, grey armchair, reading the Gotham Academy comic that you've already read thousands of times. "I'll stop reading 'those comics' when you stop listening to AC-DC," you replied with a smirk on your lips, not looking up from the page you were currently on. "That-...That's not the same thing," he defended himself. "Yep, it is," Peter interfered from the bar in the corner in the room, where he worked on his Spanish-homework. With your eyes on the graphics in front of you, you didn't see how Tony mouthed 'Traitor' at Peter, but Peter just shrugged. You were like his older sister and he would always stand behind you, no matter what. "But...you're a superhero yourself and you live in a building full of other superheroes. Why do you need to read about them?" Knowing that you couldn't continue reading in peace you set the comic down and teleported it into your Bookshelf. "I always loved it. It was the only thing I cared for besides my lab and...after the incident...Well, I just wanted to have a little bit normality," you said, looking at the ceiling. Tony knew better than to say anything. Every Avenger knew that talking about the 'incident' is an absolute no-go. Back when you were only 18 years old, only a few months after getting your first job at one of America's finest Laboratories, your whole life changed. You tried to impress your new employer and so you did everything in your power and managed to get blood samples of Captain America, Black Widow, Spider-man and even a little sample of Hulks blood and you had an explicit plan for them. No. You didn't want to create a superhuman who'll be able to destroy something, you just wanted to help people. You knew that all the heroes you had blood from had a faster healing capacity than the average human and you wanted to use this, but you were stupid and tried to do it alone. Long story short: Something exploded, you inhaled some stuff, you changed and now you have the typical super soldier powers (Strength, speed and fast healing) and, because of a little big bang that happened when the blood cells of the different heroes mixed and started to attack each other + heat + science, the power to teleport yourself and other things/people. After that, you got recruited by Natasha Romanov and since then you're a part of the Avengers and a part of the family. You considered Tony a father because he was always there for you and would move heaven and hell for you, Natasha a mother, because she'd never doubt you and would support you when you needed support, and Peter, Wanda, Pietro (and Shuri) your siblings. Of course, the rest was also family, but your relationship with those was especially strong. Tony cleared his throat beside you and you noticed that you spaced off. "Did you say something?" you asked him, raising your eyebrows. "Yes. I don't think it's healthy to sit with your head down for so long," he said with a hint of concern in his voice. Rolling your eyes, even though your head indeed began to hurt, you rolled yourself off of the armchair and stood up, glad that you weren't dizzy. "Miss Y/L/N, Miss and Mister Maximoff want me to tell you that they hoped you'd join training today," surprised you FRIDAY. You huffed, but answered: "Tell them I'll be there in five." You winked at Tony, who only chuckled and sat down, and went over to Peter to give him a kiss on his cheek. "When you're finished, you can take yourself a piece of the apple pie in the fridge-" you thought for a moment, "-you know what take two and give one to May. Greet her from me." Peter hugged you and said: "Will do. Go easy on Wanda and Pietro." "No promises," you giggled and teleported yourself into your room to put on your training clothes. 

Three minutes later you stood in the training Area, surveyed by Clint and Natasha, besides Wanda and Pietro, stretching yourself. "We'll start with 10 rounds," stated Natasha, which earned her a laugh from Piet, a chuckle from you and a groan from Wanda. As the only one without physic-enhancing-powers, she obviously had the most problems with that. All three of you went into the starting position when Natasha added: "For Wanda." Pietro and you looked at her confused, but she continued with a smirk: "10 rounds for Wanda, 25 rounds for Y/N and 100 rounds for Pietro. Friday counts." Now Wanda was the one to chuckle and you and Pietro the ones to groan. "Start," Nat shouted and all off you started. After two minutes Pietro wasn't visible anymore, you were already two and a half rounds in and Wanda just finished the first half of her first round, already looking exhausted. You finished your 25 rounds in seven minutes as the first, which was mostly because Pietro tried to cheat and Natasha gave him 50 extra rounds. He finished a few minutes after you and Natasha allowed Wanda to stop earlier because the young woman was already breathing heavily, while you and Piet didn't even break a sweat. When the young Sokovians breath calmed down, you once again stood in a line with Nat in front of you. "Now we're going to do some sparing. Powers are allowed, but nothing that could have serious long-term consequence." she stepped back and motioned at the boxing ring in the middle of the room, "Wanda against Y/N. First one on the floor loses." The both of you made your way in the ring and stood opposite each other with smiles on your lips. "Good luck," you winked at Wanda. "I'm going to need it. I've got a feeling that you won't go easy on me today," she chuckled with a hint of worry in her voice. "You're right," you said and immediately teleported behind her kicking in her knee-pits (not with your super-strength). She almost fell but used her powers to lift herself off of the ground and turned around in the process. What she didn't expect was that you already expected that and threw a punch directed at her face. Wanda lifted her hands trying to shield her face and the second your skin touched hers the red energy from her body wandered over to you. Everything around you blurred out and you could only remotely hear a gasp and your name being called. Panic and fear filled your head and you felt like you burned from the inside. The only thought that swam around in your head was that you wanted to be somewhere else. As far away as possible. And it seemed like your body fulfilled your wish because a second later the fear and panic was gone. You must have teleported yourself away. It took you a second to realize what was happening. You were falling. Fast. A look down told you that you were falling straight down onto the ground, but it seemed like you were still pretty far away. What only meant that you'd get faster, until you reach the fastest falling point and, considering your approximate height, would most likely start burning, because of the friction. And if that wouldn't happen you would definitely splash on the ground, hopefully not killing someone in the process. Maybe you would even survive those things. You hadn't tested the limits of your healing powers yet and you didn't plan on doing so now. You felt your body getting hotter and you could basically hear your life-count tick. You'd only had one idea. Use your teleportation. You closed your eyes and concentrated, but because you didn't know how high you were, you could only guess. A second later you reopened your eyes to be greeted by the ground being much closer. But still too far away for a human to survive, but before you could do something, you felt your body hitting the floor. You groaned in pain, while you lifted yourself off of the ground. A look at yourself told you that you had barely any wounds, but left quite a crater around you. "Shit," you mumbled and picked yourself off of the ground. Your whole outfit and most of the rest of your body was full of dust and earth. Your gaze wandered around the area around you. You've never seen this place. A few meters away stood a huge building that looked pretty old and you were thankful that you landed in the park behind it. Or was it the garden? You didn't know. With a huge leap, you jumped out off the hole and took your stark-phone out of your pocket. Since crashes weren't unusual in your 'job', Tony and Shuri together modified the normal stark-phone with Vibranium to make it basically indestructible. You turned it on and tried to call Nat to tell the others you were okay; only to hear a record of FRIDAY saying: "I'm sorry, but it seems like you have no connection. Please try again later." Confusion filled your eyes. No connection on a stark-phone? That was like saying: No water in a swimming pool. Weird... You put the phone back into your pocket and started to walk towards the old house- If someone lived in there they would've most likely heard the crash- and the nearer you came to it, the clearer you could hear different male voices discuss anything. You tried to find out where the voices came from and guessed that the people speaking came around the house. Your Avengers instinct took over and you teleported yourself on top of a huge tree that stood beside the path that leads around the house. "I bet it's one of the supers and they need our help with something," spoke a male voice. "As if. Clark and the others know how to use a phone," said another voice that sounded slightly younger. "TT. Could we hurry up a bit? If we continue to be so slow, whoever crashed in the backyard, will be gone," yet another voice said, but this person was definitely a child or a young teenager. "Calm down Demon-spawn." Wait...Demon-spawn? Somewhere in your mind, a little bell ringed, but you couldn't remember what your mind tried to tell you. The four people who talked finally came around the corner and all four looked similar (and kind of familiar). They all had black hair (except for one of the two older ones, who had a white streak in his hair) and were buff...well, as buff as they could be for their age. Two of them looked like they were in their (really) early twenties, one looked around 15/16 and the last one looked like 12. If you had to guess, you'd say they were brothers. Maybe they could tell you where you were. You jumped down from the three, superhero-landing for the win, and cleared your throat. The boys turned around immediately. "Hey...äh...sorry about the crater in your garden...that's kinda my fault. Could you boys tell me where I landed?" you asked with a nice smile on your lips. The boys changed their stances and you recognized them as fighting stances. "Guys, believe me, you don't wanna fight me. I got here by accident and I don't plan on staying long. I'd just like to know where I am, so that I know how long the way back home is," you said, but also shifted your feet into a more fighting-like position. "Who are you?" asked the guy with the white streak while he narrowed his eyes. "I'm Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. And you?" you answered, trying to stay positive. Now a look of confusion made its way onto the faces of the boys. "You...You don't know us?" the 15-year-old asked with one eyebrow raised. "Ähm. No. Sorry. As I said, I'm not from here." You shrugged your shoulders and tilted your head to the side, "Should I?" "We're the sons of Bruce Wayne. Everyone in Gotham knows who we are," said the youngest one and you couldn't help but start to laugh. Completely out of breath you laughed: "The...The sons...Of B-Bruce Wayne," before you started to laugh again. You looked at them, still giggling, before you turned serious and asked: "No, seriously. Who are you guys?" All of them looked at you like you were crazy and the youngest repeated: "The. Sons. Of. Bruce. Wayne." Your eyes wandered over their faces, searching for a hint of sarcasm, but they found nothing. "You...You're serious?" you asked, while the bell in your head ringed louder and louder. The old house, The 'Supers', Clark, Demon-Spawn, The sons of Bruce Wayne...could it be? Before someone could answer your question, you pointed to the one with the streak. "Jason?" He nodded and your finger wandered to the next grown up. "Dick?" He did it like Jason and nodded. The next person was Tim and the kid was Damian. When you found that out, you buried your hands in your hair. "Oh Shit, Oh Shit, Oh Shit. That's not possible. I can't be here. That shouldn't happen. That can't happen," you rambled and started to pace in front of the Waynes, who all looked at you like you were crazy. You stopped and opened your arms in a sweeping gesture. "I can't be talking with three freaking ex- and the current Robin," you whined, but immediately slapped your hand in front of your mouth. If the comics were right than the Batfam was really sensitive when it came to their secret identities. You were right, then a second later Jason rushed over to you with a raised fist, ready to fight. "Really?" you mumbled and dodges his punch, grabbing his arm and sweeping his feet away with your right foot. When he laid groaning on the floor, you turned to his brothers. "You know, fighting me is-" you started, but got interrupted by the other three who now came at you. Tim came from the left and Dick from the right, while Damien came from the front. You rolled your eyes and teleported yourself away, which ended in the three off them running into each other and landing groaning on top of Jason. "-Useless," you finished your sentence, leaning against the tree you sat in earlier. Damian was the first one to stand again and without hesitation, he came at you. "I know you got trained by the league of assassins and everything, but you're not the only one who had some bad-ass-trainers," you said, which made him stop for a second. You shrugged. "Ever heard of the Avengers? Are we the comic characters here?" Now Damian stopped completely and Dick, Tim and Jason stood also up beside him. "You mean the superhero-group with the rich guy, the Monster and the spider-dude?" Tim asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "First off; Yes. Second: Bruce isn't a monster, the spider-dude is called spider-man and it's not like your father isn't also a rich superhero dude. The only difference is that Tony doesn't hide his identity and that he's way more fun to work with." "So...you're saying that you're an Avenger, and with that, a comic character," asked Dick again. "Yep. You maybe know me under my superhero-pseudonym: Glitch. I'm the girl that tried to help people and got caught in a laboratory-accident which ended in me having powers..well-" you scratched your chin, "-now that I think about it there are at least twenty heroes in both of our universes that have that kind of story...Flash, Bruce also somehow..." You stopped yourself and shrugged. "But back to the topic. I was training with Wan- well you most likely know her as scarlet which, Black Widow, Hawkeye and Quicksilver. Things escalated a little bit and I kind of teleported myself here," you tilted your head again and mumbled: "I never knew that I could teleport between Universes." You turned to the boys again and saw the confusion in their faces, which soon turned into a smirk on Tim's lips. "You're Glitch. I love your comics. There was such a hype when you revealed that you're Pan," he squealed and you scratched the back of your neck. "I only told that my closest friends..." "Yeah, but it was in the comic and with that everyone who reads it knows it." "Great," you mumbled and rubbed your temples. "Why are you telling us all that?" interrupted Jason before Tim was able to freak out again. You smirked and shrugged. "I'm a fan of your stories and I made sure to know kind of everything about you and your universe, so I guess it's only fair if I'm honest with you." "So...are you able to teleport yourself back to your universe?" Damian asked a little bit grumpy, not caring for your statement. "I don't know...but I can try." You took a deep breath and closed your eyes concentrating on your home. You reopened your eyes and looked around and saw the boys still looking at you. "Nope. Maybe Universal-jumps need more energy...I'll try again later-" your eyes widened in hope, "-Can you introduce me to the justice league?"

(In the Marvel Universe, shortly after you disappeared)

"What have I done?" Wanda sobbed with her face in her hands while Pietro patted her back, also with tears pricking in his eyes. Both of them and almost all of the other Avengers were gathered in the main lab, while Bruce and Tony tried to locate you with the help of multiple satellites. After they had finally managed to defeat Thanos and bring back all the victims of the snap, becoming stronger as a team while doing so, all of them were kind of reliant on you. You were the one who kicked their ass when they started doubting themselves, and you were the one who held them when they cried or panicked about the whole freaking situation, never letting your shell burst in the process. You somehow became the heart of the Avengers. That was why everyone was on edge when Nat told them what had happened. They all worried about you since you normally teleported back in a matter of minutes, but now you've been gone for almost half an hour, and no one had an idea where you could be. "Anything on the Satellites?" asked Carol who was practically buzzing with energy. "No. Nothing, not even a trace. It looks like she isn't even on earth," Tony sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Do you mean, she's on another planet?" asked Thor who was practically buzzing with energy. "I am saying, that I have no fucking clue where she is!" exclaimed Tony loudly, making most people in the room flinch. It wasn't usual for Tony to freak out like this, he was always calm and tried to make everything funny, but all of them knew how worried he was about you. After he had lost Peter, even though he came back, his mind played games with him, making him worry about losing one of his un-official kids again. "We'll find her, we need to," Carol said, laying her hand on Tony's shoulder to reassure him. "I'll go and ask some of my intergalactic contacts if they know something." She said, before nodding at the rest of the Team and jumping out of the window, flying towards the sky. "I'll see if I can find some spells to search her," Stephen announced and disappeared through one of his portals. One after one they all made their way to either find you or to save people, since they all know, that you wouldn't want them to neglect the people who needed them until only Tony was left in his lab, looking at a picture of you on his holo-desk. "Where are you?" he mumbled to himself, his glance wandering to the window, where the sun was slowly dawning. He had no idea of the adventure that was coming towards him and his family.

[weartirondad]

Could u write a thing about Tony getting more personal interns and Peter gets jealous? Maybe he feels like Tony's replacing him or going to act as a father figure for all of them too, so Peter wouldn't be special or get as much time with him? 💙💙💙💜💜💜💜💜I love ur blog so so much!!

FF.net I ao3

It was funat first.

MisterStark moving more of his work to the actual R&D labs meant Peter got tohang out with all the other crazy smart kids with an actual internship at StarkIndustries which had him thriving. He loved science and he loved tinkering withTony in his personal lab but out here? There were people who wanted to be hisfriend apart from Ned, not because he knew the Tony Stark but because theythought he, Peter Parker, was cool.

Screwing aroundwith bots and manufacturing some strong chemical glue for medical purposes(that may or may not have been inspired by his own webbing) was considered coolhere which, honestly, that was a first.

Peter hadnever once in his life been considered cool by anyone other than Ned and thathad always been enough. It would always be enough, too. It’s just - he had morethan one friend, his aunt and an eccentric superhero billionaire mentor in hiscorner now and that feeling of belonging somewhere was incredible.

Untilsuddenly it wasn’t.

Peterhadn’t quite realized that Mister Stark sharing his lab also meant, well,sharing Mister Stark.

They hadtheir desks next to each other, of course, and Peter was officially hispersonal intern (and unofficially so much more) but they weren’t really aloneanymore.

That meantsignificantly less physical contact (it was him who begged Mister Stark not toembarrass him in front of everyone else so that was on him, really) and no privatetalks.

After workwas a different story altogether when they would ride up the elevator to thepenthouse and Mister Stark ruffled his hair and they’d both collapse onto thecouch to watch a movie together. None of the other interns got to have that andPeter wasn’t too shy to admit to himself that he was a little smug about it.

So, it wasfine that his mentor wasn’t as openly affectionate when they were in R&D.Totally fine.

But thenone day a guy, just three years older than Peter called Marc, made him hissmoothie because Peter was running late after school and when he got in theywere conversing easily and Mister Stark was sipping his drink that was in adifferent cup than the Spider-Man themed one Peter usually chose for him and helooked happy and content and only interrupted his talk briefly to greet himwith a hair ruffle.

No “How was your day, squirt?”, no “I’vebeen wondering when you’d get here”, no nothing. It was fine, though,because he got that soft smile that was reserved for him and Mister Starkwasn’t obligated to give him this full attention all the time anyway. He was afree man and of course he would want to talk to the people in his lab. He was afuturist, a visionary and, above all, a team player who valued other’s input.

Only whenLizzie figured out a new update for the Stark Phone Mister Stark grinned at herand high fived her with a “Great job, kid.” And that was Peter’s title.

It wasridiculous.

He alwaystold the man how much he hated being called kid and now he had appropriated itas his title? Laughable, ludicrous even. To Mister Stark they were all kids, sowhat right did Peter have to monopolize a random three letter word?

It was justembarrassing, that was all, looking up every time he heard the nickname andseeing it, coupled with a proud grin, directed at someone else.

But Peterwasn’t a malicious boy. He really wasn’t. He knew how much the genius’ praisemeant to every single one of them because he’d been in their shoes and gettingacknowledged by their idol was fantastic. They deserved it. He was happy forthem, he was.

Just….

Sometimes the nagging voices in his head wouldn’t stop. They would tellhim how he wasn’t anything special, how Mister Stark could’ve taken anyone ofthem in had they been Spider-Man and then they’d be hanging out in hispenthouse and they’d get to cuddle up to him during movie nights. Someone elsewould’ve gotten matching science pun t-shirts and the soothing calls when hewoke up from nightmares yet again.

He was Spider-Man - that was all the difference between him and everyoneelse in the lab and it sucked a little bit to see the man who he had startedseeing as more than a mentor and idol and superhero. The man who was fillingthat empty space in Peter’s heart where the loss of first his dad and then hisuncle had sat ever since he could remember. To see that man act encouraging andproud and soft and undeniably parental to other people as well.

Mister Stark liked taking care of people, he liked shaping the futureand helping smart guys achieve their goals. It was fine. He just had to keeptelling himself that.

It was fine. Finefinefinefi –

“Wanna tell me what’s gotten your panties in a twist, kid?”

That word again. That endearment that wasn’t his anymore. The traitor.

He glared, resentment bubbling over. “Don’t call me that.”

Mister Stark raised an eyebrow at him, head cocked to the side as if toanalyze him, to gaze right into Peter’s soul.

He didn’t want that.                            

“What?” hesnapped then sighed because acting like a petulant child certainly wasn’t theway to go to show his mentor he was worth mentoring. “Sorry. I’m just. I don’tknow – weird.”

At hiswords Tony’s whole posture seemed to melt. Where he had been scrutinizingunderstanding dawned and a softness covered his features that most peoplewouldn’t associate with Ironman.

Not Peter,though. For him this was familiar. This was the Tony he knew would always bethere to catch him, literally as well as metaphorically. The person who, justlike May and Ned, always had an open ear and a free shoulder to cry on wheneverhe came barreling in with too many emotions in his heart to keep them in.

And he hadbeen an idiot and an asshole for the better part of two weeks, all because ofhis own stupid insecurities and he knew his deflecting of inside jokes andphysical contact had hurt the man and he never wanted to hurt Mister Stark. Hehad promised himself he wouldn’t ever hurt him and -

Only whenTony scooted closer, put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into hisside did he realize he was shaking and he gave way to the burning in his eyesthe second his face was buried into the soft fabric of Tony’s shirt and hisnose was filled with the calming scent of his mentor.

“Shh,” theman whispered, “it’s alright, you’re alright. I’ve got you.” All the while hishand kept rubbing circles into Peter’s back with just the right amount ofpressure to ground him in the moment.

He hatedbeing so weak, hated being so dependent on someone else to tell him it wouldall be okay but damn him if it didn’t feel good.

“Promise?”he sniffled when the body shaking sobs had died down and he could finallybreathe again and embarrassment hadn’t quite settled into his bones yet.

“Always.”

He soundedso certain, so sure beyond the shadow of a doubt that it would be okay andPeter couldn’t help but believe him.

“Now,” Tonycleared his throat, hand traveling up to cup the teenager’s neck ever sogently, “want to tell me what’s gotten you so on edge? I might be able tohelp.”

“No,” Petershook his head and buried deeper into the embrace, “it’s stupid anyway. And it’sfine, really, just my own overthinking and stuff.”

Figuredthat that wouldn’t be enough to soothe the man for whom the term overprotectivehad been invented.

“Is itabout the other interns? Is someone bothering you?”

“No,” hesqueaked then tried to keep his voice even as he repeated, “no. Like I said,it’s stupid.”

Tony hummedand that was never a good sign because it meant he was thinking and contrary topopular belief Tony Stark’s emotional intelligence was perceptive enough topick up on the smallest things when he really put his mind to it. Or maybe thatwas just in relation to Peter.

“Is itabout moving the lab to R&D?”

He sighed,knowing that he was fighting a lost battle but not quite ready to give up yetso he shrugged.

Someone,May probably, had apparently taught the billionaire that a shrug usually meant“yes, but I’d really rather it didn’t” because it didn’t take him much longerto piece together Peter’s deepest fear.

“You’rescared I’m replacing you with some of the other interns and you’re wonderingwhat on earth makes you so special.”

There was apause in which Peter could’ve denied or confessed it all but he did neither. Hestayed quiet and at some point Tony broke the silence again.

“The thingis, buddy-”

Peter’sheart both soared and broke at the conscious use of a different nickname.

“The thingis that I don’t care how smart everyone else is or how many new things theyinvent. That’s great, they’re happy and that’s good for SI and I’m happy theyget to find themselves in science and that I could help them by providing theresources. It’s beneficial for both sides, convenient.”

“But you?You’re my kid. And the whole superheroing and sciencing might’ve been whatbrought us together in the first place but if you were to take an interest inany other field then I’d move heaven and hell to give you everything I can toachieve your goals no matter how far out of my wheelhouse I am. You’re notconvenient, Peter. You’re not supposed to be, I don’t want you to be. I wantyou to figure out what and who you want to become. I want to be there everystep of the way, cheering you on from the sidelines and picking you up shouldyou ever fall.”

“But why-why me?” he asked, voice small and scared.

There was apause that almost felt heavy, like they breathed out more emotions with everyexhale, making the air thick with them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. Itwas familiar, revelatory even.

“Do youbelieve in fate, Pete? Because I do. I might not like the circumstances thatbrought us together but I’m forever going to be grateful that they did. When Iwent to Queens to pick up a superhero I didn’t imagine I’d get to meet such abright eyed, pure intentioned person. Someone who challenged the way I see theworld from the very first day. Someone inherently good and perfect. What dothey say? Came for Spider-Man, stayed for Peter Parker.”

Despiteeverything he let out a huff at the attempt of a joke, reveling in the wayMister Stark’s body moved when his did. Like they were one heart, supposed toact as a single unit.

“What’sspecial about you, Peter, is everything. From the animate way you watch movies,over the ridiculous amount of time you spend dissecting your food and yoursmarts down to your views and beliefs and kindness.”

“I loveyou, kid. Nothing anyone is ever going to do will be able to measure up tothat.”

[blancheludis]

A/N: @iron-man-bingo , square: Superfamily, Spider-Man ID Reveal

Fandom: Marvel, MCU, Avengers Words: 3.728 Characters: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Peter Parker Tags: Super Family, Iron Dad, Fluff, Identity Reveal

Summary: t is merely by coincidence that Steve and Tony find out that their son is Spider-Man. Once the initial yelling is over, they might even admit they are proud of him. 

---

“We need to go home.”

Steve, who was just about to take a sip of his terribly complicated coffee, pauses and looks at Tony, confused. Their coffee dates are sacred and not to be interrupted by anything. Tony’s office has learned to not – under any circumstances – call him when he is out for lunch with Steve, and even Pepper keeps any emergencies for afterwards. One hour every Wednesday is their time, and they do not let it be ruined by anything.

Now, however Tony is staring at the screen hanging over the counter at the café they have chosen, unmoved and face grim. When Steve turns around to look at it, he almost expects another alien invasion or something of an equal attitude that would require their immediate attention, although the Avengers alarm should have gone off already in that case. What he sees does not help with his confusion at all.

The footage is from Central Park, where a reporter is talking in the foreground. Behind her, Spider-Man is visible, swinging merrily. There is no fight, not even a sign of any trouble brewing. Yet, Tony keeps staring as if they are witnessing the beginning of the apocalypse.

“That’s Spider-Man,” Steve says slowly, wondering what essential point he is missing. “It does not look like he’s in trouble. And he wasn’t exactly keen on our help the last time we tried.”

Steve has to admit that had stung a little. Spider-Man is young and, as far as they know, out there all alone. He might not be taking on any of the more dangerous villains haunting New York, but things can turn bad very quickly. It is always good to have some allies. Yet, the friendly neighbourhood hero had basically fled as soon as they attempted to speak to him, yelling something along the lines of not needing them. It might just be all right, but Steve cannot help that he is a worrier.

“Look at what he’s carrying,” Tony says through clenched teeth.

Steve does as he is bid. True enough, Spider-Man is carrying something, but it is just – “A bag. Tony,” Steve frowns, contemplating for a brief moment to sniff at the coffee in case someone is trying to poison them, “What’s gotten into you?”

“And what,” Tony says with rising tension, “is on the bag?”

The footage is not the best, but Steve has good eyesight, so he squints at the screen. Two colourful dots adorn the dark cloth. “Some kind of – oh,” Steve exclaims in realization. “These are an Iron Man and a Captain America badge.” He knows them because Peter has them too. Frowning, he inclines his head at Tony. “It looks pretty similar to –”

“Peter’s bag.” Tony nods as if this is what he has been trying to say all this time “Exactly.”

When Tony does not look any more satisfied at Steve having solved the riddle but is still uncharacteristically tense for their lunch break, Steve wonders what he is still missing.

“So what?” he asks. “It’s not like this is Peter’s bag. Spider-Man is a fan, that’s all.”

Which makes his reluctance to work with them or at least let them help out at times a little strange, but that could be simple shyness in the face of actually meeting them.

“I’m saying that it is a pretty strange coincidence that the young superhero with the familiar speech pattern and the strict four-to-eight patrol time is carrying our son’s bag around.”

Now it is Steve’s turn to stare. He wonders what Tony means with the familiar speech pattern but now that he is thinking about it, Spider-Man – on the one occasion they talked – sounded familiar. That he is apparently working on a schedule is not that strange either. Not everybody has the dubious luxury of being a hero full-time.

All of that, of course, would only be relevant if Steve would even consider that Tony’s words have a ring of truth to it. Peter is not Spider-Man. He is fifteen and their son. He knows better.

“He’s not Peter,” Steve says, surprised at the uncertainty in his own voice. “We would’ve noticed. Or he would have told us.”

Peter would not keep such a secret from them, surely. Considering their side jobs, they would understand better than any other parent in the city. When Tony’s face does not change and he just waits for Steve to cave, Steve adds, “Our son does not stick to things.”

“Well,” Tony declares and drowns the rest of his coffee in one go, “let’s go home and find out.”

He does not yet get up, though, but keeps staring at Steve, probably waiting for an argument that will allow him to calm down, something that will prove the ridiculousness of his sudden fear.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Steve thinks – but does not come up with anything. “We can’t just storm home and confront him with wild accusations,” he finally says after taking a deep breath. “We have to talk about this.”

Tony nods, knuckles turning white where he clenches his empty mug. “With Peter.”

This whole situation is going to resolve into a misunderstanding made by Tony after another all-nighter or two. There is no way their son is Spider-Man, and they will find out exactly that when they get home.

Still, Steve glances back up at the screen, which has long since changed to some commercial, and then at Tony. Doubt is pooling in his stomach.

Peter has changed – of course, he has, every child changes when it hits puberty, but Peter has gained muscles more than height and his appetite has tripled. In a household like theirs, with one supersoldier to feed and a steady flood of guests coming through, that has not been that obvious, but of course they would notice that Peter could suddenly eat two pizzas in one going and still ask for dessert. He had also begun to withdraw more, which might not be that unusual for a teenager too, but he is not moody, has not stopped talking to them. He is just making himself rare.

“If this is true,” Steve says, wondering how he can ever consider it, “you know it’s our fault.”

Tony’s eyes on him are heavy when he nods, jaw clenched and knuckles growing whiter. When Steve reaches out to pry Tony’s fingers off his mug, Tony clings to his hands for a minute.

“Only one way to find out,” Tony decides. “Take your coffee. We’re going home.”

What Steve has expected to find as they come home is an empty penthouse or perhaps Peter and Ned building another Lego monstrosity in their living room. It is silent when they get out of the elevator, but when Tony asks JARVIS where Peter is, the AI hesitates.

JARVIS never does that, he is programmed not to, especially when it comes to such a simple question. Steve and Tony share a look.

“The young Master is in his room, sir,” JARVIS finally answers. His tone is calm enough, but that does not keep Tony from marching down the hall.

Not bothering to knock, Tony pushes into Peter’s room, only to come to an abrupt stop in the doorway. He is pale and his hands are clenched again, but before Steve can ask, he reaches the room too and freezes.

There is Peter, their fifteen-year-old son, looking like he has just been caught stealing cookies directly out of the jar. His chest is bare, revealing some faint bruises that Steve’s eyes are immediately zeroing in on. Below that, pooling around his hips, is a red and blue suit that looks painfully familiar, considering they have just seen it on a news feed. Completing the picture is Peter’s bag sitting innocently at his feet, the two badges glinting traitorously up at them.

For a moment, none of them moves, much less says anything. The opportunity for Peter to pass this off as a coincidence – this could just be some very formfitting pyjamas – passes unused.

Instead, Peter swallows audibly, and says, “Hey, Dads.”

That breaks Tony out of his stillness. With a dangerously calm expression, he steps into the room, focused on nothing but Peter.

“And here I was hoping for a this isn’t what it looks like greeting,” he says, ignoring the fact that they would not have believed it.

Steve, on the other hand, is glad that Peter has not tried to lie – of course, they do not actually know anything yet. This could still be something easily explained away. At least until Peter opens his mouth again.

“Would you have believed me?”

That is as good as an admission of guilt. Steve closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, Peter is still standing before them in half of the Spider-Man suit.

No,” Tony snaps, taking another step forward until it looks like they are facing off. “But I have a heart condition, and finding out that my teenage son is running around New York in spandex fighting crime even though he should know better, and then hearing that he doesn’t feel even slightly guilty about it, doesn’t help.”

Tony delivers all of that in a breathless staccato. For once, his hands are very still, hanging by his side like he is not sure whether to clench them or to gesticulate.

Even before Peter speaks, Steve knows he should not have. There is a defiance on his face that Steve knows all too well from Tony, but that has never helped to solve a conflict.

“It’s more like swinging.” Peter sticks out his chin a little, looking from Tony to Steve and back.

“What?” Tony asks, dangerously low.

Steve thinks he should probably step in, but he is busy pushing down the urge to groan. This is escalating quickly. The only good thing about Peter’s forwardness is that it keeps their concentration on his words, not on the far more damning fact of him being Spider-Man in the first place.

“I’m not running,” Peter says slowly, “I’m swinging.”

Later, someone should reward him for his courage. Steve knows it is not going to be either him or Tony.

“You are so grounded until –” Tony begins, voice growing into a growl, but Steve cuts him off.

“How long?” he asks, feeling unnaturally calm. The panic and the fear will come later, he knows, but one of them has to hold onto his objectiveness for the time being.

“I was just getting to that,” Tony snaps, looking over his shoulder to glare at Steve.

Stepping forward, Steve shakes his head. “No, I mean Peter. How long?”

Peter looks much less certain in the face of Steve’s calm. “About a year,” he replies and pauses as if he expects the shouting to finally begin. Tony does bluster, but Steve gestures for Peter to continue. “It was an accident during a school trip to the Roxxon lab. I –” He shrugs, looking far younger than his fifteen years. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

That hits Steve hard. He thought they were the kind of family that could talk about everything. How afraid Peter must have been, coming home after an accident – whatever that means – and not feeling safe enough to talk about it.

“So you decided not to tell us at all,” Steve says. Mostly to himself he adds, “Great, I see where you got your common sense from.”

Immediately, Tony whirls around to him. “Don’t put this on me.”

That was not Steve’s intention at all, but the thoughts are racing through his mind and he can hardly imagine how much worse it must be for Tony, who is used to thinking in numbers and likely has already made a mental list of all the sightings, enemies and recorded wounds Spider-Man has gathered since he first appeared, all put in relation to the miniscule changes they did not notice happening with their own son. Or which they did notice and wrote off as normal.

“You were flying around as Iron Man too without telling anyone,” Steve argues. He does not put any heat into his voice, because he is not actually interested in arguing with Tony. It is better if he draws Tony’s anger for now, though, to give Peter some breathing space. They do need to talk about this, but not while everybody is agitated.

“Yes, but I wasn’t a teenager,” Tony emphasizes that as if it physically hurts him, “and I didn’t have parents who are the living examples that this life is dangerous.”

“But you did it with a heart condition, as you like to remind us.” They have had this argument before, several times, and it will soon burn out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Peter beginning to move slowly towards the door. He does not think Peter is going to run away, so he lets him go.

“That is completely diff-” Tony cuts himself off when he realizes what is going on. “And where do you think you’re going?” He glares at the both of them, clearly knowing what Steve has been doing.

“Erm,” Peter splutters, looking at Steve for help, who simply shrugs. He is angry too, and disappointed. “Shower?”

To both their surprise, Tony nods. “Good idea. You’re reeking.” Then, with a sharpness that cuts, he adds, “Leave the suit.”

Time comes to a standstill as Peter first pales, wide-eyed and looking like he is going to start shaking any moment now, and then squares his shoulders. “I’m not going to do that.”

In the safety of his mind, Steve can admit that he is impressed. Few people stand before a livid Tony Stark and tell him no. Even fewer people can get away with it, of course.

“That wasn’t a request,” Tony snaps and holds out his hand as if he expects to receive the suit right now.

“If you take it away,” Peter says with deceptive calm, “I’ll be going out without it.”

And Steve, despite it being completely inappropriate, is proud of Peter. More so than with going out in the first place to help people, this answer proves that he definitely is Tony and his son. If someone dared to take Ton’s suits away, he would built something better and make them pay for it. If someone took Steve’s shield, he would not let that keep him from doing the right thing.

At his side, Tony’s tense form crumbles a bit, and Steve knows that he is thinking the same thing, even though he is not going to give in that easily.

“Not if you’re not ever going to leave your room again.”

Despite himself, Steve has to grin at Tony’s grumbling tone. There is still fury there, but also grudging respect.

“You can’t –”

“Peter,” Steve says firmly, interrupting before Tony’s mood sours again. “You’re fifteen. We need to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Peter snaps and sounds more than ever like a teenager. “I have abilities. If you can do what I can but you don’t and then bad things happen, that’s on me.” That sounds practiced enough to betray that Peter actually has thought about telling them, has readied arguments for himself, and then has still not found the courage to actually talk to them. “That’s why you go out, right? Because you can and because it’s the right thing to do.”

Steve shares an uncomfortable look with Tony. Of course, they go out because it is right. They are the Avengers because the world was in danger and they were there to step up. Worse, Steve wanted to help before he had the ability to do so.

“Tony’s right,” Steve says calmly, “you’re still young. And we’re not going out on our own. We always have backup.” That is not working. Steve sees Peter’s frustration and therefore is willingness to argue increase further. With a silent sigh, he changes course. “What if you didn’t come home one night because you weren’t prepared enough?”

“I’m –” Peter protests immediately, but Steve cuts him off, needing to make his point first.

“Then because of an accident. Those happen, abilities have nothing to do with that.” He does not actually want to argue about Peter’s abilities, especially since he does not know much about them yet. “We might never know what happened to you or find out about you being Spider-Man only when they find your body.”

At this, Peter winces slightly, although his shoulders never lose their tension.

“You’re our son,” Steve intones with some pleading. “If something happens to you, that’s on us. And we’d never forgive ourselves if we lost you.”

Next to him, Tony nods firmly. For a long moment, Peter simply looks at them, face open and yet unreadable. Then, thankfully, he slumps, eyes dropping to the ground.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

That is another thing they have to talk about because Peter should not be too scared or nervous to come to them with anything. Before Steve can say anything, Tony sets them several steps back again, as he does.

“How about ‘hey dad, pops, I can stick to things now. What are we going to do about that?’”

Tony’s entire body is still thrumming with tension, but Steve does not dare to reach out and put an arm around his husband’s shoulders. He fears that would look too much like they are uniting against Peter. That is the last thing that is going to help.

“It’s not yours to do anything about,” Peter snaps, although he sounds much less agitated than just a few minutes ago. “These are my abilities. My responsibility.”

Just barely, Steve can keep himself from turning towards Tony. That sounds suspiciously like his husband reasoning why it has to be him going after the last of his weapons. They have a lot of good traits to pass on to their son. It would have been nice if their stubbornness would not have been one of them.

“And you’re ours,” Tony says, sounding like he does not expect another argument to come after this.

“You’re a good kid, Peter,” Steve hurriedly adds before those two can begin to lash out at each other. “We’re not saying you should stop being Spider-Man forever –”

“We aren’t?” Tony throws in, looking up at Steve incredulous.

“But talk to us,” Steve continues, ignoring Tony’s argument. “Don’t do this alone.”

Truth be told, Steve would prefer to keep Peter under close watch from now on, to make sure he is protected to the best of their ability when he is going out. Because he will be going out, there is no doubt about that. The best day can do, is offer Peter their help and sneak in some extra measures without appearing too overbearing. The parent in Steve, however, struggles to accept that.

After an eternity, Peter nods tersely, looking like he knows this is not yet over by far.

Taking a step forward, Tony holds out his hand. “Now, give me the suit.”

“No,” Peter all but yells and Steve silently echoes the word inside his head. This is still not the right way to go about this.

Then, though, Steve notices that Tony is drumming some pattern on his leg with his fingers instead of holding them still at his side. That is a good sign. It means that Tony is thinking the way he does about projects.

“Peter,” Steve says sternly, trusting Tony to do the right thing. “Do what your Dad says. He needs to have a look at the suit to see how he can make it safer for you.”

To his surprise, Tony does not even twitch. “Yes,” he says. Much quieter, he adds, “After I’ve locked it up and waited until you’re at least thirty to give it back.”

Peter obviously sees the same signs Steve does, because he looks uncertain but not like he is going to continue the fight.

“Dad,” he says slowly, half-pleading, half-warningly.

“Suit, then shower,” Tony orders. “Steve will cook us dinner and then we’ll talk.”

That means that Tony will go directly to the workshop and busy himself there for the next hours until it is dinnertime. Tony is prone to hiding himself away when he is upset, but Steve is going to let it slide this time. It will give all of them enough space to calm down. Perhaps it will give him the opportunity to catch Peter alone before dinner, just to reassure him that this is not something that will drive them apart.

With slow motions, Peter gets out of the suit and, even more reluctantly, hands it over to Tony, almost as if he is giving a part of his soul away. Steve can imagine how it feels, and does not think he would have given anyone his shield like this, not even if there are claiming to have only good intentions.

Pressing the fabric close to his chest, Tony whirls around and heads for the door. Before he leaves the room, though, he turns around again.

“Don’t ever do something like that to us again,” he says sternly, but then the scowl on his face softens. “But we’re proud of you.”

Not waiting for an answer, Tony disappears down the hallway, leaving Steve and Peter to look at each other in silence, unmoving until they hear the doors of the elevator close.

“Are you?” bursts over Peter’s lips, so quickly that it seems he is afraid he will not dare to ask it at all if he waits. “Is he?”

Feeling the conflicted feelings in his chest unknot, Steve steps forward and puts a hand on Peter’s arm. “Of course we are,” he says as firmly as he managed with how his throat constricts. “You know your dad. If at all possible, he’d keep you safely at home until you’re eighty and too old to pose much of a danger to yourself, special abilities or not.”

If at all possible, Steve would do the same. He also remembers how he himself was at that age, or every age really, always looking for the good fight.

“I know several eighty-year-olds who would protest that statement,” Peter says dryly. For the first time since they came into his room, he does not look one look word from jumping out the window and swinging away. “Remember old Stan from the comic book store?”

“You know what I mean,” Steve replies, but he is smiling. “We love you. Come to dinner when you’re ready.”

Steve has not yet managed to turn around, when Peter says, “Love you too.”

That, at least, is something they can always count on.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 12

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

___________________

The little piece of the puzzle that Peter has been missing all these years almost bleeds out on the dusty floor of a warehouse in Fisher Street. The boy that Peter vaguely remembers helping his mother in the garden of John Stilinski’s house is older now, but only a teenager, and he’s pale and shaking and his t-shirt is soaked in blood when Peter lifts him up and carries him to the car.

A hunter.

The boy is a hunter.

Laura drives.

Peter sits in the back with the boy, his fingers pressed tightly against his throat. The boy’s heartbeat is tachy, and he’s losing heat.

Deaton meets them at the clinic, wearing sweatpants and a faded ASPCA t-shirt with a three-quarter tear in the side. Peter realises he’s lost track of time tonight. Is it midnight? It  must be getting close. It’s past Deaton’s bedtime, clearly.

“How was Mexico?” Peter asks, carrying the boy inside.

“I only got back three hours ago,” Deaton says. “You’re lucky I didn’t stop and enjoy the atmosphere.”

“Not as lucky as this guy here.”

“I wouldn’t call him lucky yet,” Deaton says when Peter deposits the boy on the examination table in the back room of the clinic. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Can you give him more?” Peter asks.

Deaton levels him with a stare. “I’m not in the habit of keeping bags of human blood in my veterinary clinic, Peter.”

But he does have plasma, it turns out, and hooks the boy up to a bag of that while he stitches his throat.

“If he goes into cardiac arrest, you’re only choice is to get him to a hospital,” Deaton says as he works. “I’m not equipped for that here.”

If he goes into cardiac arrest, Peter thinks, their only choice is to bury him in a shallow grave and pretend this never happened, but he hopes it doesn’t come to that.

Deaton works fast at stitching the boy’s wound. And then, when he’s done, he sits down in a chair beside the examination table, jabs an IV into his arm, and connects the tube to the IV in the boy’s wrist.

“You’re lucky I’m type O,” he says mildly, and settles in to wait.

Peter goes into the back room to wash up.

The water is blasting in the sink when he senses Laura behind him. Peter tugs his bloody shirt off and tosses it into the sink before turning around.

Laura leans in the doorway. “Are you going to tell us what the hell is going on? First you cut his throat—something I’m totally okay with, by the way, given what happened to Scott—and now you’re rushing to save his life?”

“You wouldn’t remember, probably,” Peter says. He folds his arms across his chest.

“Remember what?”

“It was after the fire,” Peter said. “Everything was a mess, and I was still puzzling over why Stilinski had helped me and Matty get out.”

Laura presses her mouth into a tight line and nods.

“Or more to the point, I suppose, why he helped us that night and since then he’s looked at me like he wants to personally murder me.”

Laura snorts at that.

“Yes, it’s true that’s hardly an uncommon reaction in people,” Peter acknowledges. “Anyway, it’s funny how memory works, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that when people around town talk about our dear sheriff, they always say the same thing,” Peter says. “They always say what a shame it is that his that his wife died and he sent his son away to live with family. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

Laura shakes her head slightly, a questioning look on her face.

“His wife died two years before the kid was sent away, Lulu,” Peter says.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying it doesn’t quite fit,” Peter says frankly. “And I think it’s time I had a little talk with John Stilinski.”

***

John Stilinski’s house is in darkness. Peter’s claws make short work of the lock on the kitchen door, and he lets himself silently into the house. He treads carefully up the stairs, listening for John’s heartbeat. It’s slow and steady: he’s asleep.

Peter leans in the bedroom doorway and watches him for a moment.

Stilinski is asleep on his side, facing the door, with one arm jammed under the pillow. He looks a different man asleep. He hardly looks dangerous at all.

Peter flicks the light on. “You said you weren’t a hunter anymore,” he says. “But your son is.”

Stilinski is awake instantly, a hand reaching for his bedside table.

“Don’t,” Peter says. He’s certain there’s a weapon there. “I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to talk.”

Stilinski squints at him, and slowly sits up. “Why are you wearing an ASPCA t-shirt, Hale? Are you being ironic?”

“I borrowed it off a friend,” Peter says. “My own clothes were a mess. Want to know why?”

That stills the man. He looks at Peter warily. “I don’t know. Do I?”

“I found a little hunter tonight,” Peter says.

Stilinski doesn’t take the bait, but Peter hears his heart beat faster.

“Six years ago you saved my life,” Peter says. “Mine, and my nephew’s. You said you weren’t a hunter anymore, but your son is, isn’t he?”

Stilinski swings his legs over the side of his bed and plants his feet on the floor. “What do you know?”

“I want to know why you let the Argents raise your child to be a killer.”

“Let?” Stilinski growls, and shakes his head. “I didn’t fucking let them do anything. I saved you the night of the fire, and Kate Argent saw me do it. They took my son to punish me.” He raises his voice, and the raw pain in his tone makes Peter’s chest ache. “My son is not a hunter, he’s a fucking hostage!”

It’s the truth.

Peter knew it before he came here, he supposes, because it’s the only scenario that fits. He remembers glimpsing the boy in the garden with his mother. He remembers watching Stilinski come home, his face breaking out into a wide grin as the kid yelled in delight and ran to him. Stilinski’s family was his life. Whatever else he was, they were his life.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks. “We could have—”

“Could have what?” Stilinski demands, snorting. “A decimated pack with an untried baby alpha. There’s nothing you could have done to help me, even if you’d wanted to. And if Gerard got wind of it, it’d be Stiles who paid.”

“I thought you hunters had a council.”

“I was already a traitor,” Stilinski says. “There wouldn’t be a single member of the council who’d side against Gerard Argent when it came to me.”

“Because you left,” Peter says quietly.

“I left,” Stilinski echoes, his voice hollow.

“Some time tonight,” Peter says, “you’re going to get a call about a body found in the woods.” He holds up his palms. “It’s not Stiles. It’s a boy called Scott McCall. He was bitten by a rogue alpha a few weeks ago, and we brought him into the pack. The Argents killed him tonight.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Stilinski rubs a hand over his eyes. “McCall? Melissa’s boy?”

“I don’t know his mother’s name.”

“She’s a nurse,” Stilinski says. “At Beacon Hills General.”

“Yes,” Peter says softly. “He said she was a nurse.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Peter said. “But the Argents chased him into the Preserve and killed him. We were too late to save him, but we did catch one of them. Stiles.”

Stilinski looks at him sharply.

“He’s hurt,” Peter says. “I think he’s going to make it, but I’m no doctor.”

He watches as Stilinski’s hands flex into fists and back again. Stilinski blinks, and his eyes shine with tears.

“Come on,” Peter says. “I’ll take you to him.”

It’s the very least he can do.

***

Stiles is still unconscious when Peter and Stilinski arrive at the animal clinic. Deaton is no longer attached to him via an IV. He’s cleaning up.

Derek is lurking in the corner, staring at Stiles like he doesn’t know what to make of him. Peter can’t blame him for that, and Derek doesn’t even know the full story yet. Because Stiles is a victim of the Argents, but he’s also their tool. The Argents stole a boy, but there’s no question they’ve turned him into a killer. Just because he was kidnapped doesn’t make him less dangerous.

John Stilinski’s face crumples when he sees his son for the first time in six years.

“Mieczysław,” he murmurs.He steps forward, and curls his fingers around Stiles’s wrist. Then he stares at the bandage taped over the stitches on his throat. “Who did this?”

“I did,” Peter says. “Because they just killed one of ours, and I thought he was an Argent.”

Stilinski’s stare is hard, but he jerks his chin in a nod. An acknowledgement, Peter hopes, that there’s no place for blame here. “And who stitched him up?”

“That was me,” Deaton says. “I’m not micro-surgeon, but I have a few healing spells that I hope have made up the difference.”

“You’re a druid.”

“Yes,” Deaton says.

“He’ll live?” Stilinski asks.

Deaton nods. “Yes.”

Peter releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He lets himself out of the examination room and finds Laura lurking in the hallway outside.

“It’s because of me,” he says. “They took his son because he helped me and Matty.”

Laura’s eyes grow wide, and she reaches out and clenches his hand tightly. “Oh, Peter!”

“You saw him,” Peter says. “In the warehouse…”

He can’t finish the thought. That boy is a hunter. He’d been willing to die for the cause. He’d barely flinched when Peter’s claws had dug into his throat, because that’s what he was trained to do. He was trained to die without speaking a word against the Argents.

Jesus.

Does he even know he’s a hostage?

Six years ago John Stilinski saved Peter’s life, and he and his son have been paying for it ever since.

“We need to make this right,” Peter says.

“How?” Laura asks.

“I don’t know. I don’t know that.”

“Deaton said that Calaveras are willing to listen.” Laura squeezes his hand. “They’re willing to let him present our case to them, and they might take it to the council.”

It’s a faint glimmer of hope, Peter knows, but he’ll take it. It doesn’t protect them from the Argents, but it might stop other hunters from coming after them if they act to remove the threat.

“We need them to know that Scott never lost control,” Peter says. “He never harmed an innocent, but the Argents killed him anyway.”

Laura nods. “So we’re justified in moving against them?”

“Justified?” Peter exhales heavily. “That’ll be a long bow for the hunters to draw, won’t it? But it’s all we’ve got.”

And then, from inside the examination room, Peter hears a crash as something metal hits the floor, and all hell breaks loose.

[breyito]

Sense of Being

This is my entry for the IronStrange Big Bang! I worked with @thesaintofbowlegs as my artist (stay tunned for the link to the art) and @drxgonstone as my beta.

So sorry for the delay, but I had a really busy day. First day of school an state over, flat shopping all afternoon, schoolwork...anyways, I made it, so, yay!

Thank you @ironstrangehq for putting this together for us!

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Not Team Cap friendly. Adult language.

Other tags: Humor. Fluff. Hurt/comfort. Supremefamily. Cloak ships it. Dum-E & Friday ship it. Peter ships it. They try to help. Team Cap being Dicks, as usual. Cloak & Dum-E teach them a lesson. Pranks.

Summary: 

Relics are not something out of the ordinary in the lives of sorcerers. Sentient relics are more unique. But a relic that can express thoughts and emotions as the Cloak does? That's almost unprecedented. There is not much written about the Cloak of Levitation; which doesn't make easier for people to relate to them and understand them. The concept of an object not being a possession, but somewhat their own person is difficult to grasp for many; respect it, even more so.

The fact that Tony Stark, a man who hates everything related to the Mystic Arts didn't even blink when introduced to the Cloak is not something Stephen had the chance to think about when they met (end of the Universe and all that); but it certainly makes him curious now, after things are back to normal.

The contradictions that are part of the Golden Avenger make him even more interesting than he already is; more tempting than he should be. As Stephen and the Cloak start spending more time in the Compound in Tony’s workshop, that is his sanctuary, with his creations; and the two men start opening up to each other. What was only attraction quickly transforms into deeper feelings.

No one saw the implications of what letting Dum-E and the Cloak bond would mean. So really, you really can't blame this one only on Stephen.

Also, Stephen panics. But only minimally.

Read it on: AO3

Finally, the Sanctum was back to its gloomy pre-Hulk-through-the-roof state.  Not that it was that time consuming or difficult, but Stephen and Wong had been preoccupied with other matters. Like ensuring the magical shields around the world still held strong and opening lines of communication with the Accords Panel and the Avengers. After Thanos and half the Universe disappearing and reappearing, the Order couldn’t really keep to themselves anymore. More and more threats were showing up every day; and often enough people combined technology with magic, or perverted mystical energy to gain more power. The danger was too big to be able to hide it now. Besides, having backup was actually a nice thing.

Still, many supers were weary of magic. Loki had done a lot to help clear his name; but still, the Avengers first impressions of ‘magic’ as a whole was through Loki and then Wanda Maximoff; both using it to cause harm to others. And while Loki had proved he was under torture and mental manipulation himself (the Mind Stone in Thanos possession was used); Maximoff didn’t had that defense (although she tried to use it, it wasn’t true); and people’s opinion varied a lot from place to place.  The world was a bit skeptical, and the hero community even more so. The Panel was logical enough, but Stephen would much rather deal with Rhodes, Danvers or Stark. The meetings at the Avengers Compound were as good an excuse as any to go out, and they provided more than enough social interactions. Many were dull or tense (politicians were really the same in pretty much everywhere and some members were too irritating to talk to for long periods of time); but the Spider kid, Peter, was a delight to spend time with. He was endearing in his awkwardness and was really curious and open to everything Stephen showed him. Besides, he was smart. The kid would grasp concepts really fast and would be an excellent apprentice (if Stephen wasn’t sure Stark would ban him if he thought he was teaching the child magic). The man’s dislike and caution for any type of magic was well known and the Doctor couldn’t really blame him.

Banner and Stark were also very good company. It had been a while since Stephen had indulged in conversation for the pure science of it. He wasn’t studying the Mystic Arts to battle a threat; he was just…chatting with smart people about concepts most humans wouldn’t understand. Peter often joined them, and the kid could relate any topic they were discussing to other things he already knew, rambling about this and that until he noticed and stopped, blushing; to the amusement of the adults.

---{}---

---{}---

---{}---

Stephen knew Peter’s intentions were good, but he wished the kid had asked permission before ambushing him with a party.

The teenager had come to visit (as he often did) a day after he and Wong finally ended with the repairs. They had spent a few hours in the library, Peter jumping around like a puppy, going from one relic to the other, asking what they do, who they belonged to, if they were sentient or not and a million other questions. He had turned and asked the Cloak about a hundred things when Stephen told him there were only three registered sentient relics, and only the Cloak was ‘awake’.  Those two getting along so well really warmed his heart. It was nice to see Peter’s childish glee when the Cloak took him flying and the Cloak was shivering in excitement the whole time.

When he had to leave to start his patrolling of the city, Peter had asked why he was allowed into the library this time; and when the sorcerer told him why, he had glowed. He started mumbling a mile a minute, about house warming presents (despite the fact that Stephen had lived here for years already) and that a plant could actually ‘live-up’ the place a little, etc. Stephen gave up trying to interrupt him after a few moments and only waved goodbye (along the Cloak, who had given Peter a long hug) when the teen left. He had sighed and turned around with a smile on his face, only to see Wong standing at the end of the stairs.

“That’s going to bite you in the ass,” deadpanned the librarian, before leaving. Strange shared a glance with the Cloak, but they only give him a shrug, so he decided not to take it seriously. After all, he doubted a plant would be that much trouble.

He should’ve known better.    

The teen had gone all out for the ‘housewarming party’. He had decorated the stairs, windows, even the ceiling. He had set a table with a lot of food (probably the only reason Wong wasn’t portalling him to an undesirable destination were those delicious deli sandwiches) and even put together a playlist (the Beyoncé songs probably helped too, now that Stephen thinks about it). He had invited people over (a small number, all of them who had been in the Sanctum previously, which both sorcerers appreciated); neither of which was surprised about the fact that the hosts of said party had no idea it was planned.

Going by the mischievous smile on Stark’s face, the Doctor bet Peter’s mentor had indulged this. After all, there was no way a teen without a (paying) job could buy all this food and drinks (some of which were alcoholic, although the soda and juice selection was large too). As of right now, Wong was in deep conversation with Rhodes and Banner and Peter was being dragged around the ‘dance floor’ by Carol and Hope, red as a tomato.

The engineer was standing beside the food table and …conversing with the Cloak?  They had dropped Stephen on his ass when the sudden music made the sorcerer appear in the first floor of the Sanctum. The Cloak had launched themselves to the dance floor to ‘show their moves’, and Stephen barely had time to slow down his descent and save some of his pride. Traitorous piece of fabric.

Sighing, the Doctor got up from his seat and walked towards Stark. When the other man saw him a smile spread across his face and the Cloak shook in laughter and dodged him as they flew away. Shaking his head, Stephen let a reluctant smile spread across his lips for a moment. Then he realized the brunette was staring at him and he returned his face to neutrality.

“Capricious, aren’t they?” Stark said, pointing at the Cloak with a tilt of his head. Stephen give himself a few moments to get over his shock.

“They?” he asked, confused. The engineer gave him a funny look and lifted eyebrow.

“Well, yes. Or is it he?” he paused and when the sorcerer didn’t respond, he continued “She? I didn’t want to assume, you know.”

Stephen didn’t answer because he was thinking. Relics were not something out of the ordinary in the lives of sorcerers. Sentient relics were more unique. But a relic that can express thoughts and emotions as the Cloak does? That's almost unprecedented. There was not much written about the Cloak of Levitation; which doesn't make easier for people to relate to them and understand them. The concept of an object not being a possession, but somewhat their own person is difficult to grasp for many people; respect it, even more so.

The fact that Tony Stark, a man who hates everything related to the Mystic Arts didn't even blink when introduced to the Cloak is not something Stephen had the chance to think about when they met; but it certainly makes him curious now.

“Strange?” a hand was in his field of vision, and Stark was looking at him with worried eyes. Stephen shook himself off the zone he was in and gave him a grimace.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“Just thinking? Jeez, you scared me.” Breathed out the engineer, relaxing. “Also, I don’t buy that you were just ‘thinking’.  We discuss science and magic and science all the time, and you never zone out like that.”

“It’s just…you surprised me, that’s all.” The Doctor says, smiling a bit.

“Surprise you…? Oh, because Levi and I get along?” he asks, suddenly all smiles. “They have an excellent sense of humor. Much better than some assholes I know, really-”

“Levi?” Stephen repeats, not able to contain himself.  “You gave them a nickname?” he asks, incredulous.

“…yes?” Stark answers, not understanding. “I mean, giving nicknames to people is kind of my thing, you know? And saying ‘the Cloak’ or ‘the Cloak of Levitation’ over and over is such a drag. ‘Cloaky’ is another nickname; although they seem to like ‘Levi’ more.”

Stephen didn’t say anything for a while, trying to come up with something to say. It wasn’t often that the Sorcerer Supreme was left speechless, but it figures that the one to do it would be the so called ‘Golden Avenger’.

“You keep surprising me, Stark. Not many people consider the Cloak as their own being, and those who do never treat it as…well, as a person. And given your experiences with magic, I guess I never expected you to be one of them.”

“Well, I thought, if they were smart enough to know quality and slap me in the ass…” Tony winked, laugh dancing in his eyes. And what an ass, the thought suddenly entered his head and he cleared his throat, the back of his neck suddenly on fire.

“Yes, well…” Stephen grabbed a glass of lemonade to cool him down a bit. Usually, when he was attracted to people, he noticed right away, because it was mostly on a physical level. But Stark? He was certainly handsome, with those doe eyes and fluffy hair (and if he took those words from the post Peter read to him, sue him, because they fit) but also…also, he was intelligent and a sarcastic little shit and could totally sass you to dead. He effortlessly kept up with Stephen, and he was full of contradictions. Stephen was a little afraid of admitting it, but he was…infatuated with the man. God help him.

“Also” the engineer interrupted him “if I can create sentient living and thinking beings out of codes and technology; why couldn’t magic do the same? For all I knew, Levi was Wong’s and your brainchild.” Stephen choked on the sip he had taken, and coughed until he was red in the face.

When the sorcerer got his breath back, he saw Stark leaning back against the table and smirking at him. You could just tell he had timed his phrasing just so Stephen would choke. That little- But before he could say anything, or finish another thought, the other man started speaking.

“Come on, I want you to meet a few people.” He just started walking, not glancing back to see if the sorcerer was behind or not. Still Stephen followed him. “Think you can make a portal to the Compound? I don’t want to take the car and leave Rhodey and the kid without means for transportation. Besides, I promised Happy a few free hours.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to portal inside your Compound.”

“I usually wouldn’t, but I already let FRIDAY know that we might be dropping by, through magical taxi.”

“Please don’t call it that.” Still, Stephen took his Sling Ring out of his robes and put it on. As soon as he did, though, the Cloak came rushing in, enveloping him and making him stumble a little. “Oh, there you are. Bailed on somebody else, uh?” he asked, mock-offended. The Cloak patted him on the cheek as an apology and Tony just smiled, waiting. Stephen sighed and opened the portal in the kitchen of the Compound.

---{}---

---{}---

---{}---

Tony (and he was Tony now, the man himself had asked Stephen to call him that instead of ‘Stark’) had offered the sorcerer something to eat and/or drink as soon as they finished walking through the portal; as if they hadn’t just been in a party with an impressive catering.

When Stephen refused they moved along to the elevator and got in. After some throughout checks, it started moving- downwards. Stephen had been on the open labs, a sort of ‘communal space’ for the scientists of the Avengers, and they were impressive. But he had also heard a lot about Tony’s private workshop/lab; where only a handful of people were allowed in (Rhodes, Ms Potts, Harley and Peter were pretty much it; unless Bruce and Tony were working in a specific project). He was surprised to be heading there, to be honest. Even when they were talking through some ideas for the new line of medical equipment and prototypes SI had been developing and discussing what was already in market and how it could be improved upon; it was always in the communal labs. The Doctor never took offence to that, because he didn’t invite (often, Peter was an exception) to the Sanctum, even less to the library. But before he had the chance to ask Tony what they were about to do (or who they were about to meet, more precisely), the doors opened and Stephen was awestruck.

The place was stunning. Stephen couldn’t help himself as he entered; walking further and further into the workshop. From an aesthetic and scientific perspective; the whole room was full of wonders. Three dimensional holograms, data of all kinds filling the screens, armor and prototypes and so many wonderful things. There was much else that he didn’t understand, of course, as his specialty wasn’t engineering, electronics or computer coding (or any of the seven PhDs the man had).

But the most beautiful thing about the place wasn’t what Stephen could see, but what he could feel. There was an energy emanating from every inch of the room: chaotic but controlled, maniac but creative and so, so joyful. This was a Sanctum all on its own, this was Tony’s sanctuary. Stephen could understand why the man would allow only the closest people to him to enter. And whatever he had done to deserve the invitation, he would try and do it again.

(It was a mystery how people could be so wrong about something as obvious as this was. ‘It’s a dangerous place when he loses himself in it.’ Said Romanoff. ‘So secretive, who know what kind of shit he’s doing down there?’ Barton spat. ‘I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to deal with another of his hand-made monsters’ added Maximoff, grinding her teeth. Rogers opted not to say anything, even if his face showed just how disappointed he was not to be invited along Rhodey, Peter and Vision, as they walked to the elevator).

“So?” Tony asked, shaking the Doctor from his thoughts. “What do you think?”

“I…I think this place is amazing, Tony. I just…have no words.”

“Wow. That much, uh? I knew you guys lived in the Stone Age, but I didn’t think your reaction would surpass Barnes’.” He joked.

“It’s not the tech that has me without words, Tony, it’s…you.” Stephen caught the blush on the engineer’s face and winked at him, which made the blush spread further. So pretty…he thought, then interrupted himself by explaining: “The amount of energy emanating from this place is so great I’m not sure why I never felt it before. It makes me want to smile, to be honest. The pure joy you must feel creating, for it to feel that way.” The blush on Tony’s cheeks deepened even more, but the genius talked before he could continue.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Well! I actually wanted to introduce you to...where are you, buddy?” he called, looking around. A beeping sound came from right behind Stephen, and he and the Cloak (who so far had been basking in the energy of the room) jumped, turning around and taking defensive positions. What Stephen saw next was…not at all what he expected (but then, this whole day had been full of surprises courtesy of Tony Stark, so why should he even try to guess what was going to happen). A big metal…machine, with an arm? Claw? Holding a fire extinguisher was looking at them both through a camera, moving it this way and that, taking them in, as it continued beeping curiously.

“Please don’t kill my son. He might be useless as a bucket,” the beeping went low and sad at this, at the same time the claw moved down “but he’s still family.” Another beep came from the machine as it moved forwards, towards the engineer that opened his arms with a smile and patted the arm. “His name is Dum-E.”

The Cloak came off Stephen’s shoulders at that, floating cautiously towards the machine. They poked the metal and scurried off when Dum-E tried to grab them.

“Dum-E, seriously?” the Sorcerer asked, watching transfixed as the Cloak and the machine circled one another, poking and lightly touching each other, like in a game.

“Hey. I was 17 and drunk off my ass when I first turned him on. He didn’t respond so I…might have insulted his motherboard. The next morning, when he did respond, the only name that he would listen to was that one.”

“I suppose your professors weren’t much impressed with that.”

“Oh, they were impressed alright. By the AI, not by the name.” Tony said, snorting.

A high pitched beep caught their attention. The Cloak had decided to envelop Dum-E and the poor thing couldn’t see.

“Levi! Careful, yeah? He needs the lens to see. The dark scares him.” Tony explained, as the Cloak backed off. The Cloak-Levi, seemed ashamed. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s okay, right Dum-E?” the beeping from the AI, the Cloak cheered up.

{---{---{---}---}---}

They spent hours on the lab, just talking and working and seeing Levi and Dum-E become friends. They both had similar taste in humor, constantly play-pranking each other.

It was probably by this instance when they should have realized that those two spending so much time together wasn’t going to end well.

But as smart as they were, neither Stephen nor Tony saw the consequences coming.

{---{---{---}---}---}

It was already pretty late when Tony’s stomach growled in hunger and they finally checked the time. The Doctor was surprised at the hour: ten pm. Wong must be worried, or at least irritated with him, for skipping on his duties without notice. They decided to head to the kitchen to get a bite first, and then Stephen and Levi would leave for the Sanctum. But Dum-E let out a pitiful noise at the thought of leaving his new friend out of his sight; so Tony agreed to let him follow them to the kitchen, the AI beeping excitedly the whole way.

While Tony set them up with some quick sandwiches, Stephen washed the used utensils and returned the ingredients to their place with a few flicks of the wrist.

“Practical.” Smirked Tony, amused.

“Don’t tell Wong about it. He…disapproves of using our skills in such manner.” Tony snorted, because he was pretty sure he saw Wong that same day throwing some things to the trash can via magic; but said nothing.

After they were through with their food the genius offered him a smoothie. Just as he was about to decline, the Cloak went rigid behind him and Stephen, in reaction, tensed too. A second later Barton and Maximoff came into the room, stopping when they saw that it was already occupied. Instead of leaving though, they continued on; the witch to the fridge and the archer hopped on the counter, insolence pouring off him in waves.

“Heard there was a party today.” Barton said, taking an apple from the plate on the counter and biting into it. He chewed absurdly loud for a few moments, maintaining what he obviously thought was a mean glare, and then carried on: “Curious. I wasn’t invited. Neither was Wanda, Natasha, Sam or Steve.” He finished the sentence looking at Tony’s direction, like daring him to deny it.

The engineer just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“That’s what happens when you are an asshole to everyone; I suppose.” he said, sighing.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Barton sneered, taking another bite.

“Maybe, but at least I own up to my behavior.”

“Right,” Maximoff interrupted; “like you didn’t convince the only magic user apart from me on the team to not let me put a foot inside his ‘Sanctum’” she spat, eyes throwing poison.

“It is not ‘mine’ and you know why you can’t ‘put a foot inside’ the Sanctum, Ms Maximoff. We give you a chance to learn how to use your powers properly, but you declined.” A pause. “Rather vehemently.”

“You wanted me to go live in China to get rid of me! And you wanted to control my powers, like that collar did.”

There was an uncomfortable pause in the kitchen, while both geniuses looked at each other with incredulity. Levi was also glaring at the witch, not the she could tell.

“…Nepal is a country on its own right, Maximoff.” Tony said, slowly. The woman blushed, but pushed through.

“That’s not the point! The-”

“-the point is that we refused to treat you in a special way, and you threw a tantrum that destroyed some pieces of furniture and part of the common room in the East Wing.” Strange finished, in a dry tone.

“How are the payments for that going, by the way?” Tony asked, because he knew that all the Rogues (minus Lang, cause he actually has a brain sometimes) were pitching in to pay for the damages; even if it was only her fault.

Wanda sneered and opened her mouth to spit threats at the same time red sparks came off her fingertips; when white foam filled her mouth and covered her whole. There was a shocked, thick silence for a few moments, before a cheery ‘beep’ from Dum-E broke it and both men started laughing; while Barton passed the woman a kitchen rag to wipe the foam off.

“What the fuck is that thing, Stark? Another murder robot with a savior complex?” the archer asked, glaring at the bot.

“This is Dum-E, my first AI. And even though he is not as advanced as JARVIS or FRIDAY; I’m pretty sure he is more mature than you.”

“Oh, fuck you, Stark.”

With that, Barton led Maximoff out of the kitchen. Tony and Stephen turned to watch them go.

“Thing is, I’m pretty sure that Dum-E was just trying to help and avoid a fire.” The engineer said, fighting against the smile that wanted to spread across his face. Stephen snorted.

Behind them, Levi was offering a border of their fabric to Dum-E; to seal their pact.

FRIDAY could have probably said something. But she didn’t, because she didn’t appreciate the comparison between Ultron and her brother. Especially when the only creator of Ultron that did never pay for her part was involved.

---{}---

---{}---

---{}---

The Cloak is pouting again; if you can call it that. They are following Stephen around the Sanctum (Levi does not usually do that, unless there’s nothing else to do and/or the Doctor needs help with something); but in a slow manner, dragging their edges along the floor, collar down. Sighing, of all things. They seem sad.

Thing is, Stephen knows why. He and Wong had been watching the news on his laptop, when a report on how Tony Stark and his newest protégés are doing as of late (with the Rogues back in the States; despite the people’s displeasure with them) came on; and Levi had whooshed in to watch it in a second. Stephen was actually gonna watch that segment; because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the other man the whole week and him picking Peter’s brain to know how the other was doing was getting obvious and ridiculous.

But Wong had looked at him, and so Stephen had closed that window and opened Spotify, to play some Beyoncé songs that would improve the other man’s mood. The Cloak had tried to pull his arm away, but it was already too late. Levi had tried to change it back, but Stephen had scolded them and slapped the fabric away. The Cloak had looked scandalized and hurt, but stopped. Instead, they had followed him all day, behaving pitifully, glancing his way and sighing, still looking hurt.

Stephen was sure it was all a ruse, but he couldn’t stop feeling a little guilt. So, after finishing the book he was reading, he came to a decision.

“Fine, you childish thing; I’ll take you to the Compound so you can make sure he’s fine.”  The Cloak had looked up at that, and threw themselves at Stephen, enfolding him in the vibrating fabric. The Doctor allowed the hug and gave them a few pats before shaking them off and putting on his Sling Ring.

He opened a portal a few hundred feet away from the main building, in one of the many green areas. Tony had allowed him to open portals in his property, but never inside the building; except for the day of the party. He claimed that when he was sleep-deprived he couldn’t be accountable for attacking someone that showed up from nowhere. (Stephen hadn’t listened and often portaled himself in the building anyways; until the time he lost a good chunk of his hair to a repulsor beam, to Wong’s and Tony’s amusement. He had never done that again.)

But Levi didn’t immediately fly away, as Stephen was expecting. Instead it twisted around his arm and dragged him to the automatic doors, which opened as the same time FRIDAY greeted them.

“Welcome back, Dr. Strange. Boss is in his workshop, if you want to talk to him. I’m sure Dum-E will be very pleased to spend time with Levi again.” Said garment shivered in excitement, but kept dragging the Doctor through the building towards the elevator.

“Hello, FRIDAY. Actually, I- wait, I have authorization to go to his private lab?” Stephen asked, puzzled.

“Boss added you and Levi to the list of approved people after your visit last week.”

“Figures,” the voice startled Stephen and he turned to see he had entered the living room where a few of the Avengers were present, and they were all looking at the picture Levi and he presented; “the whacky wizard Stark barely knows gets an invitation; but his teammates from years are not allowed to go down the elevator.” Barton finished, spitting out the words.

“Clint, come on.” Bruce says. He was sitting in the couch besides Vision, looking at a Stark Tablet. “That’s not fair.”

“You are allowed into Tony’s workshop?” Romanoff asks, changing her posture from lush against the arms of the loveseat to sitting upright. “That’s an interesting development.”

“Is it?” the archer continued from where he was sitting on the floor. “I feel like it is only natural: two know-it-all, ‘great facial hair’ douchebags get along; what a surprise!” the man had obviously been drinking, even if it was only early afternoon.

“Clint, please stop.” Rogers interferes before the other man can say something that will get him in trouble. Harassment of a team member is something the Council is not in favor of, surprisingly. The reason Wong won’t come around often? He got tired of Barton’s ‘jokes’ and Romanoff mocking demeanor and dumped them in a frozen lake in Alaska (unfortunately the lake wasn’t completely frozen, so when he eventually transported them back they were all wet and cold). The Council had no way of discipline Wong because he hadn’t signed the Accords and witnesses had pretty much agreed they deserved it; so they had asked him not to send team members to possible crippling places in the future. Wong had decided it was easier for ‘decent people’ to come to him in the Sanctum and had reduced his visits (also, the ‘Rogues’ tended to disappear pretty quickly when he came by). “When did this happen, Strange?” he asked instead, like he hoped he could do the same and get an invite also.

“I bet it was when Ultron’s younger brother attacked Wanda with the fire extinguisher.” The archer muttered.

“My brother is in no way related to the entity you refer as ULTRON.” FRIDAY suddenly interrupted. “He was trying to prevent a fire or some other ‘accidents’ that tend to happen when the Scarlett Witch throws a tantrum.” Her voice was cold and flat, demeaning. No one in the room could exactly call foul play, because this common room had been refurnished pretty much entirely from the last of her ‘accidents’. Levi shook in laughter, remembering.

To avoid any other uncomfortable interactions, Bruce passed the tablet at Vision and got up.

“Come on, Strange; I have something to show Tony too.” Together they walked to the elevator and Levi seated themselves on Stephen shoulders.

{---{---{---}---}---}

Turns out, Bruce was just removing himself from a tense situation and had nothing to show to Tony; so he just stood as Stephen and Levi left the elevator and FRIDAY took him to the cafeteria.

Stephen was a little apprehensive to just show up unannounced with no real reason to be there (there wasn’t an emergency, or a project to work on, or heck, an open invitation). It was one thing to portal Levi and leave them to their own devices and another thing entirely to just barge in uninvited. Still, as soon as the doors opened Peter greeted them warmly.

“Doctor Wizard! Levi! Come one in!” the teen said, as he kept throwing a bouncy ball to the wall and jumping to catch it before Dum-E could, much to the robot’s displeasure. Levi whooshed in and joined them, catching the ball before even Peter could.

“Strange?” said Tony, who was under a car. He rolled out and got up, cleaning his hands on his t-shirt. “Oh, great! You brought Levi back. Dum-E has been moping all around the place the whole week.” He joked, amused at the party behind them.

“Yes, well, he wasn’t the only one.” Stephen said “Levi amped up the pitiful act to eleven so I’d open a portal here.”

“Wow. You didn’t want to come back that badly?” Tony joked, although his warm brown eyes seemed sad all of the sudden.

“No! I mean, yes, I wanted to come back, but I…didn’t know if I was welcomed.” Stephen said, blushing. Tony seemed amused by the response, but that smile reached his eyes again, so the Doctor counted that as a win. The engineer turned to one of the screens and started to shut down some things as he continued the conversation.

“You have an open invitation, Doc.” He said, winking. “I was about to take a shower in my rooms, if you want to join me?” he asked, distracted.

“My, how forward of you, Tony” Strange teased, arching one eyebrow. The genius snorted out a laugh.

“Sorry, was distracted. I mean I am going to my room to shower and want to know if you prefer to stay here with the kids or go up with me and wait for me and then maybe, I don’t know, have a drink?” he rephrased, looking at Stephen from beneath his eyelashes.

This man is truly a menace, the Sorcerer thought. A joyful scream made them both jump, and both turned to watch Levi and Dum-E trying to catch Peter this time.

“I think I will join you, yes.”

“FRIDAY, love, try to let them not completely destroy my lab?” Tony asked, as they walked out.

“I’ll try, Boss; but I make no promises.” She wisely answered.

---{}---

Unbeknown to both of them; the two AIs, the relic and the teenager were planning how to get revenge on the Rogues. No one should compare Dum-E to ULTRON twice and get away with it. Not on Peter’s watch. (Also, they might be gossiping about how Dr Strange and Mr. Stark make the cutest couple).

---{}---

---{}---

---{}---

After that night, visits happened more often. Even with their tight schedules, their…friendship developed rapidly.  Although friendship might not be the right word. It almost seemed they were…courting each other, old as that term was. (Wong certainly seemed to think that, as well as Rhodes, who had given him a terrifying version of the ‘shovel talk’ that Stephen prefers not to think about).

Tony passed by when he could, but even when he couldn’t, or wasn’t even in the country or heck, the continent, he sent something to be delivered to the Sanctum. Either sweets, or books or some clothing item that he think would look good on Stephen. Wong had been irritated until the deliveries brought food, and now was all for it, eagerly receiving the people at the door. Much to the Doctor’s amusement, whenever those items weren’t food, they would end thrown in a corner until he found them, and Wong would be in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

Probably the sweetest of all those presents was the vinyl music collection of ABBA that Tony had sent him. He remembered their talk that first night they spent drinking in Tony’s room. Stephen had confided him how much he missed to be able to go home and relax to the sound of this music; because even if he had the songs on Spotify’s playlist it…just wasn’t the same as hearing them from vinyl.

He also remembered Tony’s confession about how much he missed the cooking of Ana, Jarvis’. The pair had raised him while working for his father, basically, and his favorite Hungarian food was difficult to come by. By chance or by fate, Stephen had helped a Hungarian family in the neighborhood to get rid of some nasty demons a few months back; and when he asked the Mrs. Varga for some Pörkölt she was very happy to do so (said something about him being too alone) for him.

The smile that the engineer gifted Stephen when he the Sorcerer presented him with the stew was how he knew that he was totally lost. He had fallen in love with Tony Stark. (Again).

Crap.    

{---{---{---}---}---}

The Sorcerer had no idea why he was behaving as a pubescent kid, but his panicking started almost two weeks ago and showed no signs of stopping. Since his realization Stephen had been avoiding going to the Compound. He guessed it had something to do with seeing himself falling in love with the genius in thousands and thousands of alternate universes. And being witness to how beautiful their relationship could become; or how painful it could end.

So, he only appeared in the building for Avengers meetings and prior commitments, which he didn’t bother to re-make, all to avoid going there and seeing the man he desperately wanted to see. Fortunately, he did had work to do, and that stopped him from thinking too much about the genius that had taken hold of his heart. Guarding their reality was a taxing job at times; and whenever that didn’t keep him occupied, there were hundreds of books and spells that he has yet to learn.

Levi, however, had been going there more and more. At first he had bothered Stephen or Wong until either of them opened a portal for they to go through; but the Doctor had been vehemently refusing to do so for days, and Wong had gotten tired of being used as a taxi service. Nonetheless, after Peter passed by one day and offered to take Levi swinging, the Cloak often waited for him. If the teen had to cancel, Levi gave a full-body sigh and flew there themselves.

Levi still tried to convince him to stay a bit longer whenever they had to show up at debriefings, but Stephen had less and less reason to. The last couple of meeting had been filled with complaints from the Rogues about cold showers, tampered leftovers, color-changing shampoo, missing underwear and other things. The Rogues were convinced that someone on the new roaster was playing pranks on them, but after Stephen had cast a truth bonding spell on all new members and found no culprit, they had turned on one another.

It had been amusing the first few times (Rhodes, Peter and Carol were certainly laughing); but it was getting more and more tiresome as things escalated to full-bodied brawls and a ´prank war´ that had no respect for other people. When his cellphone started ringing and he saw it was Peter he answered in a heartbeat; the kid had only texted him so far, never called.

“Peter? Is everything okay?” he asked, already up.

“…I’m not Peter.” Tony answered.

“Why are you calling from his phone?” Stephen asked, suspicious.

“I figured you wouldn’t answer if it was my number. And anyways, I’m calling from the kid’s phone because he broke mine!” he yelled (the Doctor supposed it was to said teen, and this was confirmed when he heard a high pitched ‘Dum-E did it!’ and then ‘He rolled over it because you took it from me and threw it to the other side of the room!’ on the other side).

“Alright. And this has to do with me because…?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention Levi is here with us?” at Stephen’s groan Tony continued “Believe me, this has everything to do with you.”

{---{---{---}---}---}

The Doctor had taken a few minutes to gather himself. He changed into a proper attire and styled his hair a bit. He was nervous. Usually Levi was there whenever he needed someone to distract him or cheer him up; but right now, they were the reason he was being forced to see Tony. Could he still call him Tony, after two weeks of silent treatment for no reason? He hoped so. Maybe this was a good thing, after all. He had to mend their relationship, even if after his stupid panic Tony only offered him friendship.

Now even more nervous; he put on his Sling Ring and opened a portal to the Avengers’ living room, as instructed.

“You sure took your sweet time to get your ass here, Strange.” Barton said in a mocking tone. “Too busy looking in the mirror?”

“Too busy closing doorways into other dimensions that morons such as yourself open and don’t know how to close.” He responded, not missing a bit. He had been doing that earlier in the day. Also, he was done with this man’s attitude.

“Well, your magic cape has been taking our stuff and poisoning us for weeks! Did you order it to do it?” Maximoff snapped from the other side of the room. Now that Stephen turned, he saw the state of the living. It was a disaster.

“One, I can’t order them like some kind of mindless dog. Two, Levi is their own person. Three, Levi is a Cloak. And fourth…I had no idea that was happening. I honestly thought one of you reversed to the mentality of a kindergarten brats (not that it would take much, but still).”

“Oh, you fucking prick-”

“Stop.” The sharp voice belonged to Tony, and Stephen immediately lowered his hands, that went up in position when the archer took the first step forward. “All of you, out.” At the glares of the Rogues, he stood his ground and glared back. “Out. Stephen is responsible for Levi and I am responsible for Dum-E and Peter. These are pranks from children, so we will treat them like that. You have no part in this.”

“We were the ones that had to-” Rogers started.

“Did I ask for your opinion, Rogers? No. Now, as your commanding officer, I am ordering you to leave this area.”

The tension grew exponentially, and it seemed that a real battle would unfold in the middle of the living room, but the redhead spy put her hands on the arms of Barton and Rogers and they shared a long look. Finally, they left the area.

A few moments of silence followed, and Stephen could see the tension leaving Peter’s body along with Levi’s, and even Dum-E lifted his claw a bit. But before Stephen could say anything or ask anything; Tony walked towards the sofa and plummeted on it; supporting his elbows on his knees and hiding his face on his hands. He looked so…tired and defeated. Stephen would have sat down beside him and offer him comfort, but the truth was; he didn’t know if he was allowed to do that anymore.

“Tony?” he asked softly, trying not to startle the man and get his stress higher. “Wha-”

“Did you had to do that!?” he yelled, making everyone in the room jump. The kids (and yes, Stephen was totally including an ancient relic in the bag, seeing as they pranked the Rogues like a child would) looked guilty and ashamed. “Did you had to put bugs in Wilson’s leftovers, and replace Maximoff’s talcum powder with itchy powder” Tony got up and walked to the window, showing his back to the rest of the room; his whole body was trembling with rage “and steal all of Barton’s underwear and-and die Captain America’s hair r-red, white and-and bl-blue?” at this last part he burst out laughing; having to support himself on the glass not to fall to the floor.

Peter and Stephen were left gaping at him, not believing their eyes. Levi remained still for a minute, before he started to shiver in the way they did when something was terribly funny to them. Dum-E, watching his friend, gave a hopeful ‘beep’ that took Peter out of his stupor.

“Mr. Stark!” he screamed, smiling. “I thought you were mad at us!” he mocked-accused.

“Oh, I totally am mad at you.” The genius said, wiping tears away. “And me and May will totally punish you.” Peter stilled again, incredulity and fear seeping out of him. “But what’s done it’s done, and I can at least enjoy it a bit, can’t I?” he smirked.

“Boss, I think-” FRIDAY started, but Tony interrupted her.

“Oh, don’t you think I don’t know what you did. Covering for them and lying (to me)?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Boss.”

“Of course you do. I am sure you helped them.”

“Boss-”

“-As I am also sure you saved me some pictures and embarrassing videos, right baby girl?”

“…That might be a correct assumption.”

Tony laughed a bit more at that, before sighing and sitting down on the sofa again. Stephen hadn’t moved since the genius’ first outburst, but he shook his head to clear it (somehow this seemed weirder than the ‘Pet-Vengers’ dimension he had closed this morning).

“That’s it?” he asked, disbelieving. “You are not going to-”

“To what? Yell at them some more? I scared the crap out of them already.” He answered briskly. “And there will be punishments. Just…not right now. Right now, I’m enjoying this feeling.”

“Feeling of what?”

“Victory.” He paused. “Or something like it. It feels good either way.”

“Ton-”

“Besides, look at them!” Tony exclaimed, interrupting him; it was clear he didn’t want to listen to Stephen very much. The genius pointed at the trio of troublemakers that were playing once more. “They are proud of what they did.”

“All the more reason to lecture them. Maybe the Rogues had it coming, but that’s no reason to just let them get away with it.” Stephen didn’t know why he was even fighting this. He supposed there should be one responsible adult in the room; but why did it have to be him? The last thing he wanted to do right now was fight with Tony.

“I will lecture Dum-E, but at this point I don’t think it’ll matter. He’s had thirty years to learn how to be stubborn and ignore me, really. I will forbid visits from Levi for two weeks, though, that’s the only punishment I can think of that will hit him.” By the sad and angry beeps coming from the other side of the room, the AI had heard them and wasn’t pleased with the news. “Don’t look at me like that, mister.” Tony said firmly. “Peter, come here.” he called. The teen looked like a deer in headlights, and walked slowly towards them, twisting his hands together.

“Mr. Stark?” he hesitantly asked.

“I will call May and tell her what you did-” Peter opened his mouth to protest “-shut it, this is for the adults to decide on. You do deserve a punishment, for lying to me and causing so much damage. I can say, for my part, that your training sessions will be on stand-by for a time, while you help clean and repair the mess that is our living room. I am sure your Aunt will think of something else to add to your penance.” The teen had lowered his eyes once more but raised his head when his mentor called his name again “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“Levi is all your, though. I won’t help you there.” the engineer said, quickly. Stephen guessed he deserved that. He wouldn’t want to deal with an ancient relic that can probably wield magic on their own either (he suspected the death and re-appearing spiders on Romanoff’s bed was an old curse that he hadn’t being able to crack yet).

“Alright. I’ll take Levi back-”

“No, no, no. Kids,” Peter, Dum-E and Levi looked up, even if they seemed resentful of the honorific “I want to know why you did this.”

“Really? They wanted payback, isn’t obvious?” the Doctor replied, arching an eyebrow.

“But that’s not it.” Tony said, walking around the trio. The fidgeted on their spots, not looking at either adult. “The pranks could have gone on for weeks before someone finally caught on, and what’s more, actually got evidence. They wouldn’t quit that for nothing.” Tony stopped and stood with his arms on his hips (Stephen had to swallow a snort at the eerily similarity between Tony and his own mother in the same position; sure that the genius wouldn’t appreciate the comparison). So he just crossed his arms and gave the trio his best glare, trying to show an united front.

It shouldn’t take much longer, Stephen thought, one of them will break soon…

“Wejustwantedyoutomakeup!” Peter yelled, giving in. The Sorcerer had to repeat and break down the sentence a couple of times in his mind to understand it, at the same time as Tony, apparently, because both blushed deeply.

“Pete-”

“I am sorry for the mess (not for the jokes, tho, those were hilarious and so worthy) but you were so unhappy!” the teen continued with his rant, not paying attention at his mentor frantically trying to shut him up. The Doctor felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

“Kid-”

“You were miserable. And Dr. Strange wouldn’t visit for any reason so we had to do something that would force him to come and stay for more than five minutes. And the only way we came up with was getting caught.”

“Spiderling-”

“This big mess wasn’t part of the plan, believe me. But we had to get you two together in the same place and-”

“Peter! Enough!” Tony finally yelled, shutting the kid up. The genius sighed and ran his hand through his hair, before grabbing Peter by the shoulder. “Look, I appreciate what you (all of you) wanted to do, but you can’t force people to be in the same space when one of them obviously doesn’t want that. Boundaries, buddy. Just because I was sad and you wanted to see me better-”

“You think I’m only talking about you? Dr. Strange was also moping all over his books. Mr. Wong couldn’t stand his sighs and lost looks anymore.” The teen interrupted. Tony startled a bit at this but blinked it away.

“I’m sure it seemed that way, but-”

“He is right, Tony.” Stephen interrupted softly but firmly. He would not let this opportunity pass. “I was sad and unhappy, although ‘moping’ is-”

“-the right term for a person that spends their time mournfully looking at gifts someone else gave them; and for someone that sighs every five minutes because they are thinking of that special person; and if they are a mess-” Peter was interrupted when the Sorcerer cleared his throat loudly “-shutting up now.”

“As hard it is to admit it; the kid is right.” Stephen said, looking flustered. Tony squinted his eyes and crossed his arms, his body language defensive as hell.

Both adults focused on one another and ignored the audience they had (said audience wasn’t mature enough to leave them alone; more likely to take pictures of whatever outcome came to pass). The engineer looked at Stephen in the eye defiantly.

“I don’t buy it. If you were so ‘miserable’” you could practically hear the comas there “why stay away? I tried calling and texting, I went by the Sanctum and asked you to stay, but you just…ignored me.” He finished, hurt. Stephen closed his eyes and breathed through his closed throat.

“I know. I just…” he couldn’t find the words. The Sorcerer really wanted to fix this, but his brain was drawing a blank right now. How could he explain that he was so terrified of fucking things up that he had in fact, fucked things up?

“You just what?” Tony questioned, exasperated, after a few moments of silence. When the other man didn’t say a word, he threw his hands in the air and turned around, ready to leave.

“I was afraid I was going to lose you!” Stephen blurted out and then cringed. He knew what was coming. Tony turned around again and just looked at him.

“You were afraid you were gonna lose me, so you pushed me away?” he asked.

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it’s the truth.” Said the Doctor, taking a few steps until he was at the edge of entering Tony’s personal space.

“I don’t get it.” Stephen closed his fists and breathed out, reading himself to finally explain what was going through his mind.

“When we were in Titan, I saw millions of futures. In a few hundred thousand, we ended up together.” Stephen could see the barrier in Tony’s eyes breaking down a bit, so he took another step. “And Tony, we have so much potential. We could be so, so happy together.” He whispered, taking one trembling hand and placing it on the other man’s cheek. “Or we could end up so broken. We could hurt each other so much; or lose each other to our duties. Or worse: we could be blissfully happy despite everything the world threw at us, and then one of us would die and leave the other a hollow husk.” Stephen swallowed, and this time Tony took his other hand with one of his own. “I wanted…I didn’t want to make mistakes… and I was so afraid I would ruin everything. And for not telling you and talking to you about it, I ruined things anyway.” He said, dropping his head.

“Almost.” Tony whispered. Stephen looked up. “You almost ruined things.” The genius raised his free hand and cupped the sorcerer’s face, caressing his cheek with his thumb. “I could tell right from the beginning that we had potential, and I didn’t need a shiny rock to do so. I could tell by just looking at us. We…we just fit.” Tony stood on his tiptoes and kissed Stephen’s cheek softly, before breathing on his lips and looking at him in the eye. “We will always make mistakes, Stephen.” He kissed the man in the other cheek without breaking eye contact and went back to breathing on his lips “But hid something like this from me again and I’ll kill you.” He threatened, before smashing his lips against the other man’s.  Stephen’s eyes went wide at the threat but closed immediately at the smoothness of Tony’s mouth.

They kissed passionately; Tony taking charge and biting lightly; making sure to prove his threat wasn’t in vain. Stephen let the genius guide the kiss for a few moments, before he closed his hand on the nape of Tony’s neck, hair between his fingers and demanded the brunette to allow him entrance. The engineer groaned into Stephen’s mouth and went pliant.

“Okay, that was cute but now it’s going into the ‘my-parents-are-kissing’ gross level.” Peter said, completely breaking the mood. “You should leave that for the bedroom, really.”

Tony planted his face on Stephen’s chest and groaned. The sorcerer kept his eyes closed despite the beeping sounds and his curiosity. He felt completely at ease.

“You got what you wanted. You couldn’t just leave?” he moaned.

“Nope, no way.” The teen smirked. “We are going to hold this over both of you forever. We were right! We were right!” he sang at the rhythm of Dum-E’s beeps.

The Doctor finally opened his eyes and he found that their three troublemakers were dancing at Dum-E’s beat; Peter with a huge smile on his face, Levi swooshing all around them and Dum-E spinning in circles.

He shared a look with Tony and both chuckled.

Their family might be weird and unique, but it was theirs.