#avengers fix it fic

[yeehawpim]

a comic about fix-it fanfics

[wynnd-citrus]

Tony survives! Anything But “Mr Stark” Pt. 2 :3

[sistertotheknowitall]

You know, DC did something right with Wayne Family Adventures.

*Stares at Marvel in The Avengers (2012) fix it fics*

[kayvsworld]

having the impulse to watch 2012 avengers. what is going on

[musewrangler]

IT’S A CHEESEBURGER THING

For @fandomjumper247 who is craving fics while AO3 is off to war.

It's not very long, my dear, but I also love IronDad and SpiderSon so---

Set shortly after Endgame where Tony does NOT die. Obviously.

******

"Park your spandex wearing butt right there or so help me, Parker----!"

"Spandex butt," Morgan giggled, and Tony whirled on the five year old.

"Nope, hey. We don't repeat what Dad says when he's upset. You know the rules."

"He's upset all the time," Peter muttered and then quailed under the fierce glare from those brown eyes.

"Morgan!" Tony barked. "Get popsicles!"

"How many?" she asked, tilting her head in an exact imitation of her father. She knew how to negotiate, Peter thought.

"However many you want, Doodlebug. Go."

She trotted out happily as Tony advanced like a predator toward his prey and Peter sank reluctantly onto the sofa.

"What did I say? Hm? What did I say about pursuing this?"

The white scars on the right side of his face were like a lightning spread though the ear had been expertly repaired by the best plastic surgeon in the world. It frankly served to make him look cooler but Peter wasn't telling him that.

"Mr. Stark----" he began.

"Oh HELL no, you did not just 'Mr. Stark' me right now!" Tony snarled at him, poking a finger into his chest. Because he'd designed the suit, he knew exactly where to poke and it immediately retracted, leaving Peter wincing. Tony took this in and drew in a long inhale, like a growing tsunami.

"Friday! How many broken ribs?"

"Invasion of privacy," Peter tried and Tony raised both eyebrows in what Peter privately thought of as his 'Cap' look. It was the one he always gave Steve Rogers when he thought Cap was also pushing too hard.

"No privacy here. My house, my rules. Friday?"

"Seven, Boss."

"SEVEN," Tony repeated, but Peter was feeling it now and the adrenaline of his fight was wearing off. "I swear I am going to let Murdock hear about this," his mentor growled, as Dum-E rolled over with the medkit.

But he was gentle as he pushed Peter back against the cushions and got to work on the abrasions. Peter's spider enhanced healing would serve him well, but it still took time. Tony made him take super strong acetaminophen he'd worked on with Dr. Banner for super hero strength.

"Not much to do about the ribs," he said with real regret. "Which means you have to stay down, kid. Friday, let his Aunt May know, yeah?"

"On it, Boss."

Morgan returned with a very orange mouth and a blue popsicle in process.

"How many---?" Tony began and stopped. "Never mind. What I don't know I can't tell Mom."

"Seven," Morgan informed him helpfully, slurping on the blue one. "You can have some, Pete."

She came to lean over the back of the sofa and pat at his hair gently, already knowing that when he was here like this she had to touch carefully.

"That's okay, Morgs," he said, wincing a little as Tony swiped at the bruises on his face with an antibacterial wipe.

"Sorry," he said, but didn't sound it. It was the thing with Tony though, Peter thought drowsily as Ironman went hunting for the soft blanket, he was all bite even as he did everything possible to make sure the other person was safe and cared for.

Why they loved him after all. Peter and Pepper and Morgan. All of the Avengers.

Tony returned with the velvety soft grey blanket from Peter's room and tucked it around him. It was so warm and delicious.

"Mm, like a happy burrito," Peter slurred sleepily.

He could almost feel Tony's eyeroll.

"Cheeseburger," Morgan corrected. "They're better."

"And that's why your my favorite," Tony said immediately, removing the popsicle stick from her mouth. "All done. Crap, you're going to have such a sugar high."

He lifted his daughter into his arms and seated himself on the fat ottoman beside Peter's head.

"Can we get cheeseburgers?" Morgan asked.

Peter smiled at her.

"It's TWELVE---Nope. ONE FIFTEEN AM," Tony said with force. "And---" he paused.

"I could really put down some cheeseburgers, Mr. Stark," Peter said, the thought of them now making his stomach hurt even more.

There was a long silence.

"Cheeseburgers," Morgan whispered, touching her father's face gently.

Tony closed his eyes briefly and then ducked his head in defeat.

"Yeah okay, you two are awful. Friday, get us some cheeseburgers. Whatever's close and open." He glanced at Peter and pursed his lips in calculation. "Probably twenty."

Peter's mouth curled a little as Friday made the order. If Pepper had been here, no doubt he would be in the Stark's special medical wing of the penthouse they occupied when in the city. And well meaning as she was, Peter preferred Tony's way---the sofa, the blanket and the engineer's hand stroking Peter's curls as they waited for cheeseburgers and Morgan leaned on her father's shoulder, soothing herself by running her finger along one of the scars on his neck from the glove.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," Peter murmured.

"Yeah, kid," Tony answered. "Still gonna pound Murdock for letting you get involved."

"I woulda anyway," Peter told him. "What we do."

Tony's hand stopped for a moment but then started to run through Peter's hair again.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly as Dum-E trundled in with a large Burger King bag, "it is."

[frankthesnek]

✨️ New story ✨️

Namaste (rated E)

Stony (Tony Stark/Steve Rogers)

Post end game fix it, getting back together, domestic fluff, daddy kink, bottom Steve

9k words

Stony Bingo space S2: Yoga @cap-ironman

It was hard for Steve to believe this place was real. The lakehouse with chickens and a farm dog and children’s toys scattered around the backyard and deck. Tony had grown into his age and wisdom and settled into the soft domestic life he had never allowed himself—or never been given the chance—to have. Sometimes Steve felt guilty, like he was hijacking Tony's life because he himself had never found the one he wanted to settle down and start a life with—or more accurately he hadn't been able to keep them. But now, things were different for them both. Softer and simpler, and maybe that loving domestic life was not as far off as Steve had thought.

[arisfruity]

whatever souls are made of by @atypical-snowman actually altered my brain chemistry yall

the author put so much thought and planning and just sheer intent into it and that's crazy balls to me

the way tony is crazy self sacrificing, the way he's so observant and caring, the way stephens disability added to his character and was written in such a seamless way-

and on top of that the plot itself is so intricate you'd think you'd get lost, but i forgot i was reading a fanfic for a while and a whole movie was just playing in my head

author, you have my heart

[rainbowsuitcase]

Endgame Steve Fix-It

(because screw it it)

Steve appears back in the machine and falls to the ground.

Bucky moves like it's an insincts - it is - but he hasn't even gotten to the platform when the heap of clothes Steve has collapsed into starts moving again.

A hand reaches for the shield, the sleeve of the suit too loose on it, too long, and Bucky's stomach twists. He watches the whole arm shake as it grabs the shield and puts it upright, and he watches Steve lean on the shield to stand up to his full height - no, that's not right.

Steve's face is right, it's him without a doubt, but the clothing is too big on him, he's thinner, his body is - his body is right too, Bucky realizes, just not for now.

By the time he hears the harsh breath Steve takes, he's already running again.

Steve has the nerve to smile at him when Bucky gets on the platform and realizes he has to look down, again, to look him in the eyes.

Bucky can't decide if he wants to joke - You really took all the stupid with you, huh? or demand - What the hell did you do? but he lands on neither, because Steve may be smiling but his chest is heaving and his wheezing sounds much harsher to Bucky's enhanced hearing.

He grabs Steve's hand - so fucking small, god - to press it against his own chest and asks, "Do you need an inhaler?"

There's probably not one for miles. There might be one at the house if Bucky hasn't used up all his miracles yet, but it doesn't matter. If Steve needs it, Bucky will make sure he gets it.

Luckily, he doesn't, shaking his head as he tries to copy Bucky's own exaggerated breaths.

This part is a practiced dance, so Bucky just holds Steve by the wrist and lets him do what he needs, while he nods at Sam and Bruce that they're alright. Somewhat. Comparatively.

Sam must catch the moment Steve's breathing calms down, because he steps closer just as Bucky is about to step away.

"So, did something go right or horribly wrong?"

Steve, who has just started to relax, perks up again. "Bruce!" he barks and his voice is full of the Captain's command. "Call the Compound! Natasha should be there."

Bruce's eyes widen, but he rushes to do what he's told and it's Sam who gets to demand an explanation. "Steve? What did you do?"

"I gave the stone back." Steve shrugs. "It wanted something extra to return her, but this was a small price to pay."

"You'll need to see a doctor."

Sam means well, and Bucky does not disagree with him, but Steve has never liked doctors and judging by the way he tenses up, he's not about to start now. So,

"It can wait," Bucky says. "Let me make you some food first, you punk."

"Jerk." Steve shoves him when Bucky pretends to want to help him off the platform, but he does hand him the shield to carry.

[quietlyimplode]

The language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 15 - I’m fine

Warnings: aftermath of recovery, discussion of red room procedures

Word Count: 2.4k (gif not mine)

Summary: Natasha recovers in Okinawa and tells Clint some of the horrors of her past. The relationship still young; she’s not sure he’s ready to hear it.

A/N: <3

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

OKINAWA

2010

.

She dreams of drowning.

Water filling her lungs, pressure all around her.

She can’t take a deep breath.

“Breathe,” comes a whisper.

“Breathe.”

But it hurts, no one should be breathing in water.

Her arms are held by the water, a cruel taunt in trying to swim up for air, and she fights it, once, twice, then… arms like lead, she lets the water take her, absorbing her, drowning her.

It hurts, she thinks, but maybe she deserves it, and then sinks into unconsciousness.

.

She sleeps a lot.

Coulson comes and smooths things over; he pulls strings at the American airbase that Natasha is transferred to, and it allows them to be frank in conversations, rather than understanding half of it.

She wakes and seems to realise she’s in a hospital, looks for Clint and goes back to sleep. Even as they taper down the pain medication, she sleeps just as much.

Clint worries.

They tell him it’s just her body’s way of healing.

He thinks it’s more than that.

It’s worse than the dissociation, or seems to be, because she doesn’t talk to him, doesn’t respond to his questions and just goes through the motions when she is awake.

He doesn’t know what to do.

The nurses come and go, and the doctors give her a cursory check, and every time, she’s asleep.

At 2am, she watches him closely.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” she croaks.

He smiles and touches her hand gently.

“Where else would I go?” he whispers.

He doesn’t want to tell her that sometimes her nightmares make her thrash, and that the nurses are scared of her at nights, that he seems to be the only one to calm her.

He doesn’t tell her that he’s been so worried that he wants to bundle her up and take her away from the hospital because it seems to be causing harm, not to her body but to her mind.

So he just rubs his hands over the top of hers and then kisses it.

“Thank you for staying with me,” she says, staring.

He nods and kisses her hand again.

“Go back to sleep, Nat, I’ll be here.”

.

She has a fever.

She think he’s someone form the red room.

He spends the night telling her stories again.

Finds facts about the place.

She thinks she’s going to die.

Clint assures her she’s not.

.

“I want to leave,” she moans to Clint, half conscious and trying to get out of the bed.

A growl passes her lips as she looks around in anger.

“I want to leave,” she says, Clint looking on in sympathy.

“You’ve broken your ribs, a collapsed lung, and are recovering from surgery, as soon as we can ween you from the antibiotics you can go,” the doctor says in frustration.

“I understand hospitals aren’t your favourite place but leaving now, would be detrimental to your health.”

Blatantly, she ignores him.

“Can we go?” she asks, trying again, this time standing.

“Please?”

Clint’s heart pounds.

It feels like a test.

“I’ll take care of her, we have a place nearby, we can come back if there’s anything wrong,” he argues.

He just knows that this place is not good for her.

Nightmares nightly.

Dissociation daily.

They’ve been here almost two weeks and already he can see how much weight she’s dropped, only eating and drink enough to avoid further intervention.

The doctor stares, Natasha already out of bed, trying to pack things into a bag.

He swallows and then nods.

“Fine, but you’re going against medical advice. We can’t keep you here. Come back in three days for a check, and if okay next week, I’ll sign you off for flying,” he starts.

Turning to Natasha, he continues.

“Antibiotics, every 5 hours, with food. No skipping them. Strap your ribs, and keep the cast on your arm. Do not leave the country. They need at least another week. Do you know how painful the flight would be on delicate lungs with the altitude? Let alone flying with broken ribs on a plane? No, I repeat, no skipping the country.”

He turns to the nurse to draw up scripts and turns back.

“Three days.”

Clint nods, apprehension pulling at him, wondering if he’s up to the task of taking care of an injured friend, lover, whatever they are that’s slightly undefined.

“Three days,” he nods back.

.

“I’m fine,” she growls.

“Just let me help?” he replies, frustrated.

“No, I can do it, I…”

The cereal pours everywhere. Natasha stares at the little pieces going everywhere and he swears he sees her bottom lip trembling. She covers it, swearing instead, but he feels he knows she’s teetering on the edge.

“Go have a shower,” he sighs, “I’ll clean it, and then maybe we can go to the beach?”

She nods, stalking off before he can say another word and he sets to picking up all the tiny pieces.

He’s glad for the separation and the slight time alone, wondering at her capacity and if he needs to seek help from Coulson or Fury.

He knows some of the trauma and difficulties with hospitals, but he also feels he’s missing something. She’s getting better, but also, it’s like nothing he says, nothing he can do is helping.

They go back to the doctor tomorrow and whilst the last day has been better, it feels like it’s going downhill again.

It’s like before, when he first bought her into Shield, maybe not that bad but it feels akin to it.

He wanders into the small bedroom, and finds her sitting on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

She stares for a moment, then looks to him.

“I can’t have children,” she says abruptly.

It’s so left of field that Clint doesn’t answer straight away.

“I didn’t lie to you, but I didn’t know how to tell you,” she says quickly.

“What?” he says dumbly.

“In the Red Room, they take away your ability to have children. They call it Graduation. They put you in hospital, sedate you, and then celebrate the fact that they’ve just performed major surgery on you with another test. The last time.. The last time I spent so long in hospital was when they took…” she pauses.

“They took my choices. Any choices, for their own reasons and own gains.”

Natasha stares at her hands as she finishes and Clint feels the pieces fall into place.

“Nat…” he says dumbly, sitting next to her on the bed.

“You don’t have to say anything… and if this; whatever this is needs to stop and we can just be partners or not, you can decide that too, I just wanted you to know. I know… the last two weeks, I can’t… I couldn’t hold it together. But this, I think I needed you to know. I needed to tell you. It’s not fair. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a relationship like this and…” she sighs; stopping the tirade as he pulls her into a sideward hug.

“You think, that not being about to have children, that the evilness that others did to you, matter to me? That it would make any difference to how I see you, only to consolidate my view of how brave and strong you are?”

He shakes his head.

“You’re an idiot” he finishes.

She’s silent and he’s worried he’s said something wrong.

“Nat, hospitals - they’re not good for you are they?”

There’s tears that he can see on her face as she shakes her head.

“I should be better than this,” she says, shakily.

“They make me lose time, make me panic, the smell mostly, it becomes all I can think of. Gloves, the sound of the beeping on the machine, I see, hear and smell it and I’m back in the red room.”

There’s so much more that makes sense now, in her reactions at the hospital.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologises, “I didn’t know.”

She shrugs, “what could you have done? You got me out of the there.”

He wants to do more.

“For the record, the whole not being able to have children thing, doesn’t make a difference in how I feel about you. It doesn’t make you any less, and it certainly doesn’t change what this is between us.”

He sighs heavily, hugs her harder, and then stands, offering a hand.

“Tomorrow we have to go back,” he starts, “how will I know what to do for you?”

She frowns, “what do you mean?”

Clint thinks, remembers Coulson, when he was struggling with talking in therapy and words just seemed too hard.

“There’s like a traffic light system,” he ponders, “red for triggered, yellow for getting there and green for okay.”

He pauses feeling like he’s explaining it all wrong.

“I’m explaining this wrong.”

Natasha isn’t stupid, and she’s been in enough therapy that it makes sense to her.

“I have to go?” she says in a small voice, and he doesn’t want to make her with all his heart.

“An hour,” he promises, “a quick check and then we can come back, go to the beach and you can choose dinner.”

Not meeting his eyes, she nods.

“Okay,” she says quietly.

“And if you say red, we can leave, okay?”

She nods, a small movement.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, feeling she wants to talk more but perhaps doesn’t have the words.

“Can we go to the beach,” she asks, “I don’t know how you got this house, or even have it this close to the beach but, I think it helps. It’s like a holiday.”

He smiles.

“It’s pretty cool isn’t it? We are on holiday, by the way. Fury knows we never take leave. We have two more weeks, so there’s not rush on anything. First we just need to get you off the antibiotics, those ribs healed and then we can go back, but because we are on leave, it doesn’t matter.”

There’s a small shift in mood as he tells her this.

“We aren’t going to get fired? You’re not going to get in trouble for staying with me?” she asks.

Clint laughs, derisively.

“You thought they’d fire us?”

She nods, slowly.

“Nat, we are the best two operatives they have, they’re not firing us. In fact, they sent Coulson, who fixed things and then he signed off on the house so we were safe.”

He helps her up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you before, I assumed that you’d assume we were okay, and you’d be on leave.”

Natasha shakes her head, and points to the bathroom.

“Join me?” she asks, pulling her shorts down, and moving away.

He laughs.

“Of course.”

.

He thinks it’s the ocean that helps to heal.

Small conversations on the Red Room, she indulges him with answering questions, and he only pushes so far.

It’s easier as they’re walking on the sand, to ask the harder ones.

She asks them back, and they grow closer. The time comes to an end and he calls in, Fury and Coulson sending through mission packets to the small house by courier.

Natasha sighs.

“I knew it was coming, but I don’t think I was ready,” she tells him on the last morning.

“This was my first holiday,” she confesses, “and I didn’t hate it.”

He laughs at her.

“I’m glad,” he says, opening his own mission packet and then watching as she opens hers.

“Separate missions,” he says glumly.

She nods, scanning the information.

“What do you know about Tony Stark?”

Clint swallows, he knows the name, just about everyone in the city does.

“Do you mean Iron Man?”

They both laugh, Natasha moving off the couch to grab the paperwork that she’d just picked up.

“It’s my next mission.”

She hands him the envelope and he grabs his.

“I’m going to New Mexico,” he returns.

“Why solo missions?”

He shrugs, grabbing his mug off the table and sitting down next to her.

“I don’t know.”

Natasha frowns.

“I think I just got used for working with someone.”

The last five weeks have certainly done wonders for team building, he thinks.

“Do you think it’s punishment?” Natasha asks.

“Okinawa was a shit show,” Clint admits, “maybe they’re testing us.”

He goes to refill his cup, lifting it to ask her if she wants one as he considers their words.

“Maybe not a test, maybe more that they want to see what we can do alone.”

She scans his paper.

“Avengers Initiative? Mine says that as well.”

Clint sits next to her, grabbing the paper and sighing, “Nah mine’s more boring, there’s a spike in geothermal land, and Fury thinks it’s alien.”

Natasha laughs, and then looks at his face.

“Oh, you’re serious,” she clarifies.

“It’s more about protection of the scientists, if it is alien,” he surmises.

She sits near him, flipping through the paper.

“They’re looking at you, for the Avengers,” she says reading further.

He laughs, easily.

“I think it’s us, they’re likely looking at, who better than an ex carney and a former Red Room graduate?”

She nods, “scraping at the bottom of the barrel, really.”

“Stark is up for it too,” she tells him.

“I’ve got to submit a portfolio, for the undercover shit,” she says, annoyed.

“And be hired.”

Clint smiles as he reads the parameters.

“God, Stark’s going to be a creepy man, isn’t he? He wants evidence of work, and they’ve put that he values modeling here.”

She groans.

“I’m good at taking photos,” he grins.

“Why can’t he be gay? Or married? Why models?” she complains.

“Nat, he’s going to take one look at you and hire you on the spot,” Clint assures.

“Come on, let’s spend our last day here before our flight, and when we get home, I’ll take your photos.”

Natasha stands, the bandages invisible under her top.

“Rich people suck,” she grumbles again.

“I know Fury has only done this to give me extra time, but still, I’d prefer your low ball mission to New Mexico rather than playing politics with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.”

They make their way out, Clint checking twice that the door is locked.

“You never know,” he says, still grinning, “you might make a new friend.”

“Shut up,” she replies, throwing the car keys at him.

.

[newtdrawz]

My fav thing to do ever is when a TV show/movie/book are really fast passed and like really serious/dramatic and have a found family is to like think abt them doing regular stuff 😭

Like ya ykw I WILL picture Sam and Cas having a day spent at the local grocery store because Dean's out on a hunt so it's up to them to get their groceries and it just gets really silly

And I'm so glad I'm not the only one cuz I'll see a really serious post/a deep dive of a characters trauma and then right after it is a post abt like "what if they had a garden :) and made bread? :)" like you're so right they DO have a garden and make bread

I LOOOVEEEEE thinking abt THE CHARACTER doing mundane things and going out and running errands

Fix it fics are one of my favs can you tell? 😭

(And also ik this is NOT an original thought I just needed a reason to share my 'Sam and Cas go to the grocery store' thing cuz I think it would be fun lol)

[buckybarnesisdaddy]

The Reunion

Summary- You are reunited with some old friends and introduced to some new ones.

Pairings- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Raining- Mature due to some violence

Warnings- fighting, guns, explosions.

A/N- Starting off pretty tame! This is a small chapter to get everyone’s feet wet with this style of writing. It is written like a script but is pretty self explanatory. Let me know what you think and if you want to be in the tag list!

Masterlist

*You just finished all your work for the day and you were closing up your classroom. All day you've had this feeling that someone was watching you and all you want to do is get home safely. As you exit the school you hear a familiar voice from behind you.*

Bucky- out of all the places I thought you'd end up, this always surprised me the least. *He smirks at you from where he leans against the wall.*

Y/N- You shouldn't be here *You call over your shoulder, continuing to walk to your car.*

Bucky- We need to talk. *He says, following behind you. You let out a sad laugh and turn to face him, stopping him in his tracks.*

Y/N- We have nothing to talk about Buck. *you turn on your heels and walk away*

Bucky- They're back! *He exclaims. You stop dead in your tracks before You turn to face Bucky. Looking at him almost daring him to say the name.*

Bucky- Hydra is back and they are looking for you. You were their most valuable asset they aren't about to just let you go. I came to warn you that if you want to stay out of this, then you need to run.

Y/N- I'm not running. I finally have a life Bucky and I’ve made a family with these people- I can't run, not anymore. *You explain. Bucky walks closer, his gaze pulling you in. His eyes are still as beautiful as ever.*

Bucky- Then get ready to fight because they're coming. *He assures you. You let out another sad laugh and let your bags drop to the ground. Exhausted that this fight will never end.*

Y/N- Why would they want me? Honestly, I don't think I know how to fight anymore. *Thats not entirely true, but if you say it enough maybe you can convince yourself.*

Bucky- They know who you are y/n-

Y/N- Was.. *You cut him off* who I was. She is no longer apart of me and I- *You look off into the woods and then back at him* I don’t want to pretend to be her anymore.

Bucky- she will always be apart of you Y/N- *He starts to explain but you cut him off again*

Y/N- Yeah just like the Winter Soldier will always be apart of you. *You stare at him, knowing that was a low blow but wanting to get your point across. He nods and looks at his feet, kicking around some gravel. He meets your gaze once more.*

Bucky- yeah and that's something I have to deal with everyday. But knowing they gave me the very abilities we need to stop them? You bet your perfect ass I'm gonna make sure He is still apart of me. *Bucky explains. You shake your head and look off again.*

Y/N- Well, I've dealt with my past, did the steps, celebrate recovery and what not, and I want nothing to do with this. I'm finally free and I am done fighting someone else's war. *You start to gather up your bags from the ground when he stops you. Taking your hands in his and begging you to listen.*

Bucky- This is your war Y/N. If you wanna run and you won't fight then get ready to say goodbye to the life you've made here because you know better than anyone what Hydra will do to get what they want. *You can feel the tears brimming in your eyes, your heart breaks as you softly reply.*

Y/N- yeah... I do. *You look at Bucky and your eyes meet. You can see he is worried but not for himself, for you. All of the troubles you were facing seemed to disappear when you looked into his eyes. Bucky seems to feel the same way, forgetting why he was here in the first place, leaning in close and whispering.*

Bucky- Do you ever regret that day? *You feel the tears start to well up.*

Y/N- Bucky.. *you put your hand on his cheek* I will regret that day till my dying breath. Bucky starts to lean in closer when the sound of gunfire breaks the silence. The next thing you know you are flying backwards through the air.

*You get up and look around, fire and smoke surround you and the school is reduced to rubble. Your ears are ringing and you can't hear a thing over it. Slightly disoriented, You start to look around for Bucky but you can't find him through the wreckage. Your ribs hurt and you’re pretty sure you broke one or two. You can finally hear someone shouting your name.

-Y/N *You try to find where the voice is coming from when suddenly someone grabs your arm. You turn ready to punch and see it is Bucky.

Y/N- Don't scare me like that! There are people trying to kill us and you think it's a good idea to sneak up on me *you say as you are hitting his good arm*

Bucky- shhhh get down *Bucky doesn’t even respond to your swats, this reaction was old hat for him. You both crouch behind what was once your car and try to get a good look at what's going on.*

Y/N- What just happened *You whisper, still trying to figure out what just happened.*

Bucky- That big SUV came around the corner and tried to light us up. *Bucky informs you, you roll your eyes and motion around you.*

Y- Well I think they somewhat succeeded at that. *Bucky laughs*

Bucky- Yeah *He looks you over* you good? *You nod and take a breath*

Y- I'll be fine but we are sitting ducks here. We need to find a way out. *You look around trying to see if you are surrounded or not. Bucky peaks over the hood and sees the Hydra symbol on the SUV that fired at you both. While he is looking 4 Hydra agents jump out of the SUV and start to make their way toward you and Bucky. Bucky crouches back down next to you and sarcastically says.*

Bucky- y/n you will never believe who it is. *You roll your eyes and smile, you really have missed his banter and the sound of his voice if you were honest. You bust out what was left of the back window of your car and grab the weapons you store there.*

Y/N- So Buck.. *You hand him his choice of gun.* We gonna do this like old times. *you say as you are getting your weapon ready. Bucky looks at you and smiles.*

Bucky- I thought you'd never ask. *You give him a playful jab in his side and he leans in and kisses your forehead, just like old times. He pulls back and nods.*

Y/N- let's go *You both tuck and roll around opposite ends of the car and Get to work.

*You end up in Hand to Hand combat with a Hydra agent and you do what Black Widows do best. When you've taken care of the last Hydra agent you hear Bucky yell at you*

Bucky- "Don't know how to fight anymore" my ass!! *You roll your eyes and laugh. Out of nowhere a jet lands on the other side of the parking lot. You get ready for another fight when Bucky runs over* it's okay, they're with me. Once the jet lands the doors open and out steps Steve, Sam, Thor, Wanda, and Peter. Steve steps off the jet and runs over to you and Bucky.*

Steve- Hey are you both okay? *He looks you both up and down.*

Bucky- Yeah we're good. *Bucky smiles and looks at you*

Steve- We need to get out of here. I'm sure more Hydra agents are on the way. *You agree and give one last look around, the destroyed school, you wrecked car, this life you had created destroyed in minutes. Bucky calls your name and you turn to look at him, your heart flutters and you smile as you follow after him. You make you way to the jet as Steve and Bucky are walking ahead of you. Bucky offers you his hand to help you climb up and a memory that you wished you could forget flashes in your mind. Standing there still and ghost white, You realize Bucky is starting to get concerned.*

Y/N- oh sorry * you take his hand* thanks. *When the door closes you can feel the jet take off and your stomach starts doing flips. Bucky and Steve notice. Steve moves closer and whispers.*

Steve- Hey are you alright? *He eyes you again, everyone watches your interactions so you just smile.*

Y/N- Yeah, I just haven't been on a plane in awhile. Didn't have the greatest experience with the last one I was on. *Realization washes over Bucky and knows exactly what you are talking about. Then it dawns on him as to why you hesitated to get on the jet with him. Steve clears his throat and everyone else starts to look away, knowing that neither one of you will explain what happened so Bucky quickly moves on.*

Bucky- uhmm, Hey everyone this is Y/N. We umm- we used to work together. *He says and looks at you. You have to hide your smile at his adorable awkwardness.*

Peter- so she was a brainwashed assassin too? *Everyone stares at Peter and his lack of social awareness. Bucky scrunches his face and then just nods.*

Bucky- Technically, yes. *Bucky admits and then looks to you, wanting to make sure Peter’s words didn’t hurt you, they didn’t. A large man from the front of the jet starts to speak, his voice booming.*

Thor- Who cares! She seems fine now and she kicks ass. Welcome! *He offers his welcome and you smile.*

Wanda- Yeah you were amazing! *She thinks for a minute.* Actually the way you fought reminded me of-

Nat- long time no see. *Another familiar face. You breath a sigh of relief and hug Nat.*

Y/N- I've missed you Nat. *She hugs you tight. Peter looks around at everyone who seems to know what’s going on.*

Peter- You know Natasha too?!? Wait?! Are you a Black Widow?! *he says in a whisper like it was a secret. You decide to play along and lean in to whisper back.*

Y/N- Yes. *Peter leans back and looks amazed, like he was just told the biggest secret ever. He then realizes that everyone else seems to already know. He mutters to himself that he really needs to start paying attention in the mission briefs. You smile and laugh to yourself as everyone settles in for the trip back to the compound.*

*Bucky finds a seat next to you.*

Bucky- you were thinking about the plane ride from Siberia weren't you? *You look at Bucky with tears brimming in your eyes at his words.*

Y/N- Yes.. I'm so sorry Bucky. I know that's not you anymore- your good now... like really good- and I know it was kinda my fault and I know I asked... *the end of your sentence trails off, ashamed that there seems to be one thing that your therapy hadn’t fixed yet. Bucky takes your hand.*

Bucky- I know, y/n and I understand. I wish we hadn’t been put in that position. But I think it's safe to say it all worked out, eventually. I just hope we can find a way to work past it. *He laces his fingers with your and you smile up at him before gently laying your head on his shoulder. He decides to lighten the mood.* Also if you want to get real specific and start pointing fingers 1) You started it that day and 2) you asked me to do what I did so- *You gasp and playfully punch his arm. He laughs a big, real laugh. You see Steve glance back and smile. It’s been awhile since either of you heard him laugh like that. *Bucky kisses your forehead* I really am sorry for what happened that day and for the position you were put in. *You lean up and kiss his cheek, reassuring him. Your head finds rest on his shoulder again and think to yourself It’s just like it used to be, before.

*As you are drifting off to sleep you hear Peter talking to Thor.*

Peter- You think she'd go for me? *He asks. Wanda and Sam start to laugh under their breath. Thor looks at him and pats his shoulder.*

Thor- In your dreams, Spider Boy. *Peter looks around for anyone else who would be on his side. Nat smiles.*

Nat- She is super strong, ages really slowly, and basically can't be killed. *She starts to walk away when she turns around to clarify.* What I'm trying to say is, she'd eat you alive, kid. *Peter throws his arms in the air.*

Peter- oh come on! I could help her settle in and get comfortable with the place- *Sam interrupts him*

Sam-  She looks pretty comfortable already. *You can’t hold it in anymore and you let out a laugh. You snuggle into Bucky's arms and fall asleep to the sound of the others teasing Peter and Bucky's heartbeat. The memory from earlier plays over and over in your head. It's your real life nightmare that has returned to haunt your dreams.*

Next

Tag list: @hisredheadedgoddess28 @cadencejames87 @jessieasher1616 @janineb86 @cjand10 @theinheriteddutchess @georgiapeach30513 @rainydayandmondays @anastasiamariebarnes

[sunnysideprincess]

All We Do

Summary:

Tony doesn't mean for anyone to find those recordings. Steve doesn't mean to see them. Between the two of them, there were never the right words spoken, so this just might be a blessing in disguise.

a/n:

written for @tinystark616 as a part of @cap-ironman 2023 holiday exchange, go thank her for the wonderful prompts!!!!

Had so much fun writing this! Endgame stony fix-it was kind of a bucket list for me and this gave me the perfect opportunity to explore the ways they would resolve their issues. And tada!!!! 9k-ish words of angst!

P.s.

I totally did not learn how to use skins for this story (i did, i did) so please keep the creators style on for this one!

[wynnd-citrus]

Tony survives! Anything But “Mr Stark” Pt. 1

[aeterna-auroral-avenger]

Avengers: Infinity's End

Two chapters today, gang, because the first is short, and I have little patience to share something I'm proud of LOL

Chapter 13 - The Hulk in Shirts [AO3 link]

Summary: Tony needs to rest, and Rory needs a team. So Rory decides to seek out another big brain to help in the operation. And she's surprised to find big brain and big brawn have turned into a more complete package deal.

Chapter 14 - They're Still Out There

Summary: The Guardians may have found where Thanos has been hiding, and a key detail has been revealed. Because of this detail, a particular heist idea is shut down by Rory herself. And it kills her to do it too.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

fix-it fic for me is literally just either "holy shit canon really glorified this guy's horrible behavior so I've gotta give their love interest/friends a better ending" (i.e. glee, ofmd, etc.) or it's "i can feel the author's unintentional prejudices/hang-ups/etc. digging their fingernails all over the writing of this character that had so much potential so I've gotta wrest them away and fix some shit" (i.e. doctor who, avengers, once upon a time, the magicians, supernatural, narnia, etc.)

[triscribeaucollection]

Can’t Breathe In

(SO. What if, way back during Infinity War, the group on Titan fighting Thanos managed to get the gauntlet away from him? Say, for example, Peter yoinks just a tad harder at the right moment, pulling it and the four already-retrieved Stones off. There’s still the problem of keeping them away from the purple bastard, so Strange opens up a portal back to Earth, tosses the kid, the gauntlet, and the Eye of Agamotto through for good measure, before he and Tony and the Guardians do their level best to put Thanos down for good.

One thing leads to another, all roads converge in Wakanda, and there ends up being a knock-down drag-out free-for-all fight between the present Avengers and the remaining Children of Thanos for six Infinity Stones in one room (Shuri having just enough time to cut Vision free of the Mind Stone before shit hits the fan).

Stuff is exploding, containers are breaking, half a dozen all-powerful artifacts tied to the foundations of Existence are flying through the air, and a certain Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Doofus manages to grab two at once.

Things get... interesting, after that.)

---

Peter is so screwed.

Even if he survives, even if he manages to change enough things to save the day for everybody else, he is so screwed, because he did the one thing Doctor Strange explicitly said not to and at this point it’s definitely going to kill him.

Just. Slowly. Because that’s Parker Luck for you.

Panting through the pain, Peter manages to finish scrawling out the last of his future-notes, doubled up at the very bottom of the page. Then he promptly drops the pencil and grasps at his head, whining faintly.

Some of it’s definitely a residual after-effect of accidentally grabbing two Infinity Stones at once and super accidentally activating them. The rest is a miserable combination of adjusting to no longer having his powers, adjusting to once again having asthma, and of course the bout of bronchitis his thirteen year old body happened to be dealing with when Peter’s sixteen year old mind got dropped into it.

Zero out of five stars, do not recommend.

A hand knocks on his bedroom door, and Peter barely bites back an instinctive whimper. “Y-yeah?”

“You okay in there, kiddo?”

And there’s the other thing. Ben is still alive.

Ben is alive, May isn’t a widow, and Peter really needs to make sure they both stay that way.

But he also needs to warn Mister Stark about everything that’s coming.

“I- I guess,” Peter says miserably, and it’s enough to make his uncle open the door and step inside. The kid’s heart stutters just at the sight of him: familiar concerned expression, rumpled well-worn clothes, brown hair that’s only just started to turn gray around the ears.

“Well, you must be feeling a little better, at least,” Ben mutters, glancing between Peter at his desk and the abandoned bed. “I’m ducking out to run a couple errands, kiddo, shouldn’t be gone too long. Want anything?”

He takes as deep a breath as he can manage at the moment. “Actually- yeah. Could you drop off a letter for me?”

Ben raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking up a little at one corner. “A letter?”

“Mmhm.” Peter reorganizes his papers real quick, then folds the four sheets in half before taping them closed. On top goes a post-it note, and one final scribble: for FRIDAY or Happy Hogan, please.

...after a moment’s consideration, ‘please’ gets underlined an extra time.

Ben’s second eyebrow has risen as well by the time Peter turns back, holding out the makeshift envelope. “Where am I taking this, kiddo?”

“Manhattan. Stark Tower.” He can see the startled blink, and hurries to go on, “It’s really important, Ben, please. If I could take it my- myself-” His lungs choose that moment to induce a coughing fit, and Peter practically doubles over as his whole body shakes.

One of Ben’s large hands settles between his shoulder blades, rubbing up and down until Peter can breathe again. “Okay, buddy,” his uncle murmurs, gently tugging the papers free of his grasping fingers. “Okay. Stark Tower. I can do that. Might take me an extra hour, though- are you going to be okay by yourself?”

Rather than speak and irritate his poor throat, Peter raises a thumb’s up.

Ben grins, just slightly, and ruffles his hair. “Go on back to bed, then. I’ll top off your water cup and head out.” A+ plan. Truly phenomenal. Peter drags himself out of the wobbly desk chair and shuffles over, dragging the same blanket he’d brought along with him in the first place. Toppling over onto his old mattress is easy; so is making an unintelligible noise of gratitude when Ben sets down a refilled plastic cup. And from there, Peter slowly... drifts... off.......

...only to lurch back upright in a panic, mere minutes later, because he addressed the notes to Friday.

FRIDAY, the AI who doesn’t exist yet. Instead of JARVIS, the one who does.

Several curse words drop from his mouth, as Peter scrambles to try and find his- his phone. Which he does not have yet. Because it was a Congrats On Starting High School present after he turned fourteen. Because of course.

Nothing for it, then. As miserable as he feels, Peter needs to get dressed, go after Ben, and swap out the incorrect post-it for a properly addressed one.

When asked, he will very much blame his current fever and illness to explain why he didn’t go out into the living room, and use the landline they still possess at this point in time to call his uncle and fix the error. But that’s later, and this is now, and Peter fumbles for his jeans and a mostly clean t-shirt.

---

Ben Parker would like to claim he isn’t a terribly gullible person. Nor a distrusting one, either. But this feels like a delicate balance between the two, as he takes the subway to cross from Queens over to Manhattan, and then walks a couple blocks to a particular nigh-infamous building. ‘Stark Tower’, ‘Avengers Tower’, either way, the gleaming structure easily attracts attention, even when you aren’t a rubber-necking tourist.

The sheaf of papers crinkles in his back pocket.

If Peter weren’t so sick, Ben probably wouldn’t be humoring him like this. Then again, if Peter weren’t sick, he’d more than likely have found a way to sneak off to Stark Tower himself to deliver the mysterious letter. Taking a deep breath, Ben steps through glass doors, and does his best not to hunch his shoulders or otherwise look nervous around so many people in business attire.

Even so, his thrift store outfit and old leather boots draw at least a few stares.

The young woman at the desk he goes up to at least smiles welcomingly, and Ben does his best to return the expression. “Hi there. This is going to sound weird, and I apologize in advance, but my kid’s sick and begged me to drop off a letter for him.”

“A letter for whom, sir?”

“Ah-” Ben pulls the folded papers from his pocket, miraculously managing to avoid losing the post-it note on top. “-Friday or Happy Hogan? He wrote down both their names, but I’m afraid I don’t know who either is.”

The woman’s face does something complicated when she sees the taped letter, but thankfully doesn’t laugh or scoff. “Well... Mister Hogan is Mister Stark’s head of security, but I’m afraid I haven’t heard of anyone named Friday who works here.” Something chimes on her computer screen, and she glances away to tap a quick reply.

Ben can’t help but blink. “Security? Huh. I would’ve figured a scientist or something...” Well, to be completely honest, he figured a feverish Peter would write directly to Tony Stark, considering how many Iron Man posters occupy the kid’s bedroom walls. But a security man just makes no sense at all.

“Pardon me, but what was your name, sir?”

“Parker. Ben Parker. Uh, like I said, I’m really just humoring my kid while he isn’t feeling well - I understand if you can’t actually get this to Mister Hogan-”

“On the contrary, sir,” a British voice says out of nowhere, making Ben jump. “I have already taken the liberty of summoning the appropriate individual to meet with you.”

He stares at the young woman, who looks startled but not nearly as confused. “That was Jarvis,” she quickly explains, “Mister Stark’s AI. Jarvis runs most of the building’s automatic functions, but- he doesn’t usually speak to guests without prompting.”

An uneasy feeling creeps up the back of Ben’s neck.

‘Jarvis’ doesn’t talk again, and the young woman directs him to wait by the end of the welcome desk for whoever’s coming down to meet him. It’s awkward, to be sure, especially as more people idly glance in his direction.

But then an elevator dings, and Ben turns, and shock overwrites literally everything else.

“Mister Parker?” Tony Stark asks, walking briskly towards him. Behind his glasses, the man’s eyes dart to either side of where Ben is standing, and they flicker slightly with something he would almost call disappointment. “Hi, welcome, sorry to startle you, but we’d better have this conversation in private. Jarvis said you’ve got a letter?” Wordlessly, Ben holds it up. Stark huffs, quickly plucking it from his fingers, but doesn’t bother to do anything besides tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Then he claps a hand on Ben’s shoulder, and steers him straight into the waiting elevator. “How’s Peter?”

The shock is still going strong. That’s the only explanation for why he blurts out the single word response, “Sick.”

Stark’s head snaps around. “Sick? With what? How bad is it?”

“Bronchitis,” Ben barely manages to say, most of his brain power currently occupied trying to reconcile the fact that Tony-Iron-Man-Stark apparently knows his nephew. “Not- not too bad, this time. How do you-?”

“J, you downloaded the kid’s medical files, right?” Stark asks the open air. 

“Yes, Sir,” the same disembodied voice as early rings out. “This would be Peter Parker’s fourth bout with bronchitis in the past three years. Records indicate he is taking appropriately prescribed medication and has been home from school for the past two days.”

“Good, that’s good.” Still, Stark’s expression is twisted unpleasantly, and Ben can only stare in a sort of detached fascination. “Double check that our pharmaceuticals division doesn’t have anything better for him, J.”

“Of course, Sir. I also need to inform you that we have received confirmation from Prince T’Challa of Wakanda, and reassurance that his family is taking the necessary precautions.”

“About time Pink Panther got back to us. Anything from Fury and our super-duper wonder spies?”

“They have yet to emerge from the secondary conference room. Mister Barton’s only communication at this point has been to request another round of takeout and coffee, as it looks to be, and I quote, ‘a long-ass day on top of a long-ass night’, Sir.”

Stark snorts. “Got it. Approve whatever he and Nat want. Anyone in the lounge?”

“Negative.”

“Right, take us there, then.” Sighing, the celebrity finally turns to actually face Ben. For a long moment, he only stares. “It’s different, seeing you in person. Good different. Peter actually say anything about the letter?”

“...no,” Ben manages to answer. “No, and I don’t- no offense intended, Mister Stark, but what the hell is going on?”

“Tony, please.” A flash of genuine pain crosses Stark’s face, before he returns to the bland observing expression. “And none taken. I’ve had a lot of people ask me that question since two this morning.”

The unease returns, this time in Ben’s stomach. At 2am, he and May were woken up by Peter shouting in his room - a fever dream turned nightmare, or so they assumed.

He doesn’t particularly care for the coincidence.

“So tell me, Ben Parker: do you believe in time travel?”

---

Peter is so, so screwed.

He left the apartment without his key. Without his shoes. And the longer he attempts to keep shuffling down the city sidewalk only in his socks, overwhelmed by noises and smells and the bright sun overhead, the more it becomes abundantly clear:

He messed up.

Majorly messed up. On top of his other major screw-up, and the more he tries to squint at street signs without the glasses he also forgot at the apartment, the more his head pounds and his nose runs and his chest hurts.

Eventually it’s just- too much. Peter coughs weakly into his elbow, and scoots into the first alley he can find.

---

Once, not so long ago, Ben didn’t think aliens or superheroes existed outside of books and movies. Time travel isn’t that far a leap in comparison.

But the more Stark keeps talking, the less Ben takes in, overwhelmed by a couple of things the celebrity breezed over, which stand out all the more for his lack of emphasis. First and foremost: Tony Stark cares about Peter. Knows him. Likes him. Invites him on weekend visits to work on personal projects. Illegally hacks medical databases to double check that the boy is getting appropriate medication for his current illness. Ben might actually laugh if it weren’t for the second thing:

He’s going to die.

Stark doesn’t outright say that, of course, but he tip-toes around the fact that he knows Peter well enough to care about him, and he knows May well enough to be wary of lying to her, but today is the first time he’s ever laid eyes on a living, breathing Ben.

Peter is going to be a superhero. May is going to be a widow. Peter caused some kind of magical accident that sent the Avengers back in time three years. May is going to be a widow. Peter apparently wrote out four pages of notes about incoming disasters for nothing, because Stark and his teammates have been scrambling for the past ten hours to prevent all of it and more.

May is going to be a widow.

Eventually, Stark must realize Ben’s only absorbing every fourth sentence or so, because he abruptly finds himself pushed down into a sleek leather chair, glass tumbler in hand. He doesn’t bother to check exactly what kind of alcohol he’s been given; it burns going down, and that’s good enough to restore some clarity to his overwhelmed mind.

First thing’s first. “Peter has superpowers?”

“He will. Probably. We know when and how he gets them, at this point it’s just a matter of making sure he’s in the right place at the right time. If he still wants- I mean, I’ll be honest, I’d probably sleep a little better knowing the kid isn’t swinging around Queens stopping muggers in the middle of the night, but I also know there’s only a point oh two chance he’ll willingly avoid becoming Spider-man again.”

Ben nods, swallowing down his initial reaction to that word-vomit. “Okay. Okay- next question.”

“Shoot.”

“How do I die?”

Stark promptly winces. “...alright, poor choice of words on my part. Look, Ben- can I call you Ben?” He nods. “Thanks- look. I don’t know all the details, but Peter definitely will, and between the two of us I can guarantee you won’t this time. Hell, I’ll get you a nano-tech bulletproof vest if I have to, but we’re going to make damn sure you live to a ripe old age no matter how many burned casseroles May tries to fix for dinner. Alright?”

Something in the back of Ben’s mind whispers that it can’t possibly be that simple, but he’s willing to take the other man’s words at face value for the moment. “Alright.”

“Sir? Captains Wilson and Rogers have returned, with two guests.”

“Hot damn. Okay, Ben- just hang tight for a minute, I need to say hi to Ruby Tuesday and her delinquent brother, and then we’ll see about getting Peter up here, yeah?” Ben doesn’t have a chance to respond before Stark is up and moving, heading for the elevator just as it slides open.

Captain Rogers is apparently that Captain Rogers, and Ben’s eyes widen so much he half-wonders if they might actually fall out of his face.

Steve-Captain-America-Rogers steps out of the elevator, face tired but triumphant, dressed in civilian clothes rather than his iconic uniform. That’s definitely The Shield slung across his back, though.

Behind him comes another man, dark-skinned with short hair, rolling his eyes as he finishes saying something to the people behind him. Both young, on the thin side - the girl’s hair is long and dark, the boy’s shifting from a similar color to silvery-white in a way that doesn’t look like a dye job. He’s nervous; she’s relaxed. Stark approaches them with stiff shoulders and a careful smile.

“Tony,” the girl says warmly, and half the tension drops away from Stark’s frame.

“Wanda,” he replies, stopping short of arm’s reach. “You’re okay?”

“I will be. I have Pietro again.” She reaches out, and catches the boy’s hand where he meets her halfway. “Ultron?”

“Shut down for good. Never even got the chance to wake up and cause trouble.”

The girl lets out a low, shaky sigh, squeezing her eyes shut as she nods. “Good. That is- very good. Vision?”

“We’ve got him. Sort of- no body for him to land in like the rest of us, obviously, but Cho’s putting one together, and there’s a copy of his consciousness tucked in with Jarvis right now.”

“One moment please, Miss Maximoff,” the AI says. A moment later, what sounds like the exact same voice speaks again, but with a great deal more emotion. “Hello, Wanda.”

“Viz,” she replies, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “You are alright?”

“I am much better, now that you’re here.”

Well didn’t that sound adorably sappy. Some small sound must escape Ben’s mouth, because a moment later the girl, Wanda, is looking right at him with a frown. “Who is this?”

“Ben Parker,” Stark promptly answers, shifting in place to make a sweeping gesture. “Better known as Spider-man’s uncle. He came to drop off some notes from the kid, who apparently didn’t realize we all got swept back in time thanks to his stunt with the Mind and Time Stones. Speaking of whom- Jarvis, have we got eyes on Underoos yet?”

“Yes, Sir. But I am afraid Peter Parker is not in his Queens apartment.”

Like a storm blowing out a candle, Stark’s face turns immediately grim. “Beg pardon?”

“Facial recognition picked him up eight blocks from his home building, moving slowly. Approximately nine minutes and thirty-four seconds ago, he entered an alleyway without any available security cameras. To my knowledge he has not yet emerged.”

Ben couldn’t say when exactly he got to his feet, but he suddenly finds himself standing next to Stark, hands clenched to keep from shaking. The other man meets his panicked gaze, and a flicker of understanding passes between them. “Show us, J.”

A holographic screen pops up. Footage plays. Ben barely pays any attention to Captain America stepping closer, too focused on the little figure helpfully highlighted by Jarvis.

(Peter isn’t even wearing shoes.)

“What, did he feel the need for a Delmar sandwich?” Stark grumbles, before the image zooms in. It becomes abruptly clear that Peter isn’t feeling suddenly better - his face is tight with desperation, mouth open to breathe, and every few steps he pauses to lean against a wall, eyes screwed shut. Ben feels a vice grip squeeze his heart, especially when his nephew staggers between two buildings, disappearing with his head down, arms tucked in close.

“Yeah, he’s not doing so hot,” the other man beside Captain America states.

“Understatement of the year, Wilson. Alright, everything else is on pause, I need to go get him-”

“I am faster.”

They all turn to stare at the boy still standing halfway behind Wanda. Even she looks surprised. “Pietro?”

He shrugs, a small nonchalant twitch, belied by the concern in his eyes. “I am faster. Show me a map from here to there, and I can pick him up without attracting attention.”

Ben glances at Stark. The celebrity offers back a flat smile, face carefully blank. “I mean, he’s not wrong. Speedy Gonzales here could probably run to the other end of Long Island and back in a couple of minutes.” There’s a moment’s hesitation, and then- “Your call, Mister Parker. He’s- your kid. First and foremost.”

...after a long, painful moment, Ben turns back towards Pietro. “Please.”

---

It feels like his life is just one big mistake after another.

Arguing with his uncle, distracting him at exactly the wrong moment, and paying for it with a funeral. Ignoring Mister Stark’s orders, almost causing all those people on the ferry to die. Not pushing harder to get a message through to Happy, almost allowing the plane to be stolen.

Grabbing the first two Infinity Stones to go flying past his face, in a room full of aliens trying to steal them and Avengers trying to protect them. Peter can still feel the burning in his hands, like catching a pair of electrified cables except dialed up to eleven, and every time he tries to take a deep breath it just gets worse. Not even the spider bite had caused him to hurt this much.

Wind whistles, short and sharp. A train going by- or maybe just a single car? No, wait, that didn’t make any sense-

“You are Peter, yes?”

Slowly, agonizingly, he manages to peel one eye partly open, and squints at the guy crouching in front of him. Familiar, but- not in the way that meant Peter had seen him somewhere before. “Y-yeah?”

“I am Pietro Maximoff,” the guy says. “Tony Stark and your uncle are upset you left home.”

Ah.

Well. On the one hand, Ben clearly made it to the Tower. On the other, Peter’s probably going to be in a lot of trouble for this. On the third- on a metaphorical third hand, Peter hurts. He can’t even bring himself to say so to this guy, Pietro- Maximoff, does that mean he’s related to Wanda- and instead whines, hands pressing tighter against his head.

“I am going to take you to them,” Pietro goes on. Peter lets his eye squeeze shut again, and jerks his head in a short, shallow nod. Hands carefully drag him out from his hiding place between two dumpsters, and then he’s being picked up, cradled close like a much younger kid. Normally he’d protest, insist that he’s sixteen- or thirteen- but honestly, Peter can’t bring himself to care.

There’s a distinct lurch, and a thousand sounds bombard his ears, horns and voices and wheels turning and doors opening and it’s way WAY too much too many too soon-

-and he checks out.

---

Ben doesn’t quite stare at his watch the entire time Pietro’s gone, but it’s a near thing. Steve Rogers takes a moment to introduce himself, along with Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff, but thankfully none of the Avengers try to force any strained small talk. Stark barely makes a sound at all - he keeps on staring at the blue-tinted holographic screens, eyes glued to the replaying clip of Peter stumbling into that alleyway.

It’s a relief when Pietro blurs back into existence in front of them, Ben’s actual physical nephew held securely in his arms.

But only for a split second.

Because Peter looks awful.

In the time since Ben left their family’s apartment, his kid has somehow managed to slide from pale to almost ghostly white, tremors wracking his entire body. He doesn’t react to Ben or Stark calling his name, eyes screwed shut and fists pressed hard against both ears, breathes coming short and shallow.

“Jarvis, vitals,” Stark orders, gesturing for Pietro to set his burden down on the nearest sofa. Peter whines when the young man lets go, but Ben slides right in, one hand carding through his nephew’s hair while the other presses flat against his scrawny chest. He doesn’t pay attention to whatever the AI relates to Stark; there’s just Peter, and his ragged breathing, and his pounding heart.

“Okay, kiddo,” Ben murmurs, soft but hopefully loud enough for the kid to hear. “We can make it through this, and you’re going to get better, if only so I can ground you until you’re eighteen.”

Peter’s next breath comes out more like a huff than a gasp, and one corner of his mouth turns up, just slightly.

“Only eighteen?” Stark leans a little over Ben’s shoulder, not quite intruding though it’s pretty clear he’d like to. “I’d make it twenty-five, at least.”

“M- Mis’er S’ark-”

“Hey, kid. Fancy seeing you here, when you should be tucked up at home in a nice warm bed. What’s the idea, huh, giving me and your poor uncle a matching pair of heart attacks?”

Peter coughs weakly, eyes still closed. “Wrote- wrong. Fuh-friday, not- Jarvis.”

Ben sees Stark stiffen in the corner of his eye, and holds back a sigh. “Friday’s the name of another AI?”

“Back-up for Jarvis,” Stark mutters. “I would’ve switched to her in a few days, if we were still following the original timeline.”

That manages to make Peter’s face scrunch up with confusion. “-what?”

“We all came back in time, kid. Whatever the hell you did with those Stones, they picked up every Avenger plus a few bonus people and tossed our minds back to the good old days before we’d even heard of Thanos. Possibly those Guardian idiots too, but we haven’t been able to make contact with them yet.”

“Oh,” Peter croaks, finally cracking his eyes open. “Good?”

Rather than answer, Stark sucks in a startled breath, and Ben feels his stomach swoop unpleasantly. From the abrupt silence behind them, where the others had been murmuring amongst themselves, he figures everybody’s equally stunned.

Peter’s eyes are glowing.

The kid just stares upward for a moment, obviously aware something’s wrong. “...Mister Stark? I don’t- feel so good.”

To Be Continued...