#if the companies i want to do my internship at make a fuss about dyed hair then i dont think i want to work there??? like???

[caffeine-high]

hehe mom's mad disappointed at me for dying my hair

[lyssismagical]

72 w Parkner pls 🥺

just some bb fluff between the Keener-Parker-Stark family uwu

*

“I'll see you in a few hours, babe,” Morgan says, leaning up to kiss her partner. “I love you.”

Saylor smiles and gently pushes a strand of hair behind Morgan’s ear. “I love you too. Have fun. Tell them I said hi.”

Morgan and Saylor have been together for three years now, having met in Morgan’s third year of college, studying to become a teacher. Saylor’s in med school.

They live together in New York, only a few hours’ drive away from Stark Towers where Harley and Peter live.

She hasn’t had a day off between school and her job as a teaching assistant, not to mention having just gotten a puppy with Saylor who needs constant attention and care.

The drive to Stark Industries is a little boring, traffic a little heavier than usual on a Saturday morning. She feels a little bad about not spending the weekend with her partner who’s also rarely free, but she also hasn’t made the trip to see her family in quite a while.

Harley and Peter are sitting at the breakfast bar, knees touching and Harley’s laughing bright and loud at something Peter must’ve said. They both look tired, despite the weekend beginning, but she knows the business has been under some heat lately.

Peter’s up, out of his seat as soon as he sees her, pulling her into a warm hug. “I’ve missed you, bug. How are you? How’s Saylor? How’s school?”

“Let her breathe, darling,” Harley says, leaning over his husband to ruffle Morgan’s hair. “You want a coffee?”

“Yes, please, traffic was awful.”

Harley smiles and heads off towards the kitchen, leaving Peter to fuss over Morgan.

“You look tired, have you been sleeping alright?”

“Peter, I’m fine, I promise. I’m twenty-four, you don’t need to worry about me like I’m still fourteen.”

He sighs wearily, it’s obvious it hasn’t exactly been an easy week for him. “I know. But you’ll always be my little bug.”

“I’m good, really, Peter. I’m happy.”

Harley returns, pressing an old Iron Man mug into her hands. “How’s Saylor? I miss that kid.”

“They’re good… Busy, that’s for sure. Med school, the internship at the hospital, taking care of Nova. We’ve both been busy, but they’re happy. They’ve got the weekend off to just play with Nova and rest.”

Peter goes to respond, but his phone ringing cuts him off. “Sorry, I should probably… Hello?”

Harley sighs, leading Morgan to the living room. “It’s been complicated lately.”

“I heard, is everything okay?”

“One of our rival companies, they’re fighting dirty and it’s putting a lot of pressure on us. We’ve already lost a few employees, as well as some investors because of them. But we’re making progress and it’ll all blow over soon enough.”

Morgan nods, pulling her knees up to her chest on the couch, tucking herself into the warmth. It’s the same old couch that Tony bought decades ago, there’s a few photographs of her here when she must’ve been two to four years old, her dad holding her in his lap. On one hand, she knows why they haven’t bothered to replace it, every memory of Tony is important to all three of them and seems almost wrong to get rid of anything that belonged to him. But on the other hand, it really is just a couch. An old, worn-leather couch, with rips in the seams and stains along the back.

“Peter looks exhausted,” she says, watching carefully as Harley’s face shifts into worried sadness.

“He is. You know how he gets when it comes to anything surrounding your dad.”

Peter slips into the room, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry to cut this short, but PR needs one of us downstairs.”

“I’ll get it,” Harley offers, already bringing himself to his feet.

“No, it’s okay. You took the last one. I’ll go, sort this out, I’ll hopefully be back within an hour or two. I’ll bring takeout for lunch, sound good?”

Harley sighs and Morgan knows she makes the exact same expression as he does whenever Saylor picks up extra hours at the hospital or stays up all night to study.

She’s never really known the two of them apart, she was too young to remember them before they got together, way back when they were eighteen and nineteen. They’ve been together ever since, bar the one time in college where they split up for nearly four months, long-distance having become too much for them.

She’s never known Harley without the permanent wrinkle between his brows from the constant worry of dating a selfless superhero. She’s never known Peter without the messy curls, having given up gel and product when Harley convinced him he looked better without it.

When she was young, she always worried that she’d never find love the way her parents did, the way she saw Harley and Peter, so unconditional, so pure, so endless. She worried she wouldn’t find the person who was clearly meant to be her other half like Peter is for Harley and Harley is for Peter.

But then she met Saylor.

“Bye, bug, I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

She hugs Peter goodbye, settling back into the cushions beside Harley.

“How did you know you were going to be with Peter forever?” Morgan asks. She adores the way Harley’s expression goes gentle and nostalgic and loving.

“Peter likes to say that he knew when we met, that very first time, at the cabin. But I don’t think it was ever quite that simple, you know? I knew I loved him when we were in college and he was in Massachusetts while I was in California, and I woke up one day, and found Peter in my dorm room. He’d flown all the way out, on his long weekend, just to spend time with me. He was sitting next to me, reading the book I had to write an essay on so he’d be able to me. It was so simple, so easy, and it was clear, in that moment, that I could do that forever. Wake up next to him, live in simple domesticity with him.”

“And you wanted to do that forever?”

She knows that moment with Saylor, too. They had come home from a long day at school and a long evening at the hospital, and they had picked up her favourite meal for dinner on the way home. They had curled up on the couch together, eaten dinner, and watched a movie, and smiled when Morgan had ranted about the antagonist of the film.

“For as long as he’d have me.”

“And you’ve never once gone back on that?”

Harley shrugs, eyes far away. “I fucked up in college, I nearly ruined the best thing I’d ever had, and that’s the biggest regret I’ll have to carry with me. That’s the only regret I’ll ever have about our relationship, is hurting him and losing four months with him.”

“I think I want to ask Saylor to marry me,” Morgan says. She’s certain about that, but god is she ever nervous. “I love them more than anything.”

“I know.” Harley nudges her with his shoulder. “Every time you talk about them, you get that same look that I see on Peter’s face constantly. And that- that’s a lot. I see it on Saylor’s face too, when they talk about you.”

“You do?”

Harley’s smile widens. “I do. It’s clear how much that kid loves you. And if you’re even a fraction as sure as I was when I proposed, then you should go for it.”

“How did you do it?”

“It’s about as dramatic as you’d expect from us. He was-” Harley stops, swallows visibly. “He was dying. He’d been hurt while on a mission and I was there, I was holding him and he was- he was dying. Bucky had to physically restrain me while Sam got him to help… It was the most scared I’d ever been.”

“He was okay, though.”

“Yeah, somehow he always is. He was in that goddamn hospital bed and he was so high on pain killers and I just, I asked him to marry me.”

“That simple?”

“That simple.”

Morgan laughs a little. “And he said yes?”

“He did. He said yes. And when he was released from the hospital, he laughed so hard he cried because he couldn’t believe that’s how I asked him.”

And god does Morgan ever want that with Saylor. She loves her partner like crazy, loves them to the moon and back, she never wants to go another day without them, she doesn’t want to spend another second without being able to call her partner, her fiancé.

“I want to marry Saylor,” she says again.

Harley grins. “I’m proud of you.”

“For being in love?”

“For being unapologetically you and going after what you want.”

Morgan leans into Harley, his arm coming up to wrap around her shoulders. “You think they’ll say yes?”

“No question about it, kid.”

“If they do…” She trails off nervously. “Would you and Peter walk me down the aisle?”

Harley presses a kiss to her temple. “We would love to. And I’m sure we could have Nova trained to be a ring bearer in no time.”

Morgan laughs at the thought of her clumsy, bouncy little puppy trying to do anything with finesse.

Peter returns with lunch a little while later.

As soon as he walks in, he drops the bags down on the table and says, “I want a baby.”

“What?” Harley lets out a little surprised laugh and Morgan bursts into giggles at the absurdity.

“Quinn brought her baby in for the meeting because she couldn’t get a babysitter in time,” Peter explains, pouting childishly. “And I want one.”

Harley shakes his head, more dumbfounded than disagreeing. “You want a baby.”

“I want a baby,” he repeats. “I want a little tiny thing with ten fingers and ten toes and a beating heart.”

Morgan laughs again, walking up to hug Peter. “God, I missed how absolutely crazy you are.”

“Okay, darling, how about you eat some food and we’ll talk some more later?”

It’s not a no and Peter grins triumphantly.

“When did you know that you wanted to be with Harley forever?” Morgan asks before she can stop herself.

Peter’s smile widens and he looks to Harley with the softest, most lovestruck eyes she’s ever seen. “I was fifteen.”

“Fifteen? You were seventeen when we met.”

Peter slides a hand over Harley’s shoulder, tucking himself into his husband’s side. “I was fifteen and I was here with Tony. Right here, actually. We were having a lab night and he mentioned something about a potato gun kid. And I asked him to tell me about you. About dumbass Harley Keener who didn’t know when to stop, who was talkative and loud and sarcastic and annoying. Harley who helped save Tony’s life. And I thought, wow, if anybody would know what it feels like to be me, it’d be Harley.”

“Really?”

“I googled you later that day and I scrolled through your mom’s entire facebook, wondering just who was special enough to stay in Tony’s head for so long, so fresh. I told Ned, I said to him, I’m gonna meet this kid and I’m going to marry him one day because who else is worthy of my love than somebody who could save Tony Stark’s life.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not! It’s all true. Ask Ned, he’ll tell you.”

Harley rolls his eyes in pure adoration. “You never told me that.”

“I was embarrassed and then it didn’t seem relevant anymore.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to learning things about you, Parker.”

Peter grins up at him. “Like how I want to have a baby?”

“You two would be amazing dads,” Morgan says, almost shyly. That part of their relationship isn’t talked about very much, how they might as well have raised Morgan, filled in the spot that her dad left when she was so young. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, bug,” Peter murmurs.

“If you take tomorrow off, we’ll start researching, alright?” Harley bargains. A day off is hard to come by with Peter, but with an ultimatum like that, Peter can’t possibly say no.

Peter kisses him in response.

April Parker is the flower girl at Saylor and Morgan’s wedding that fall.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideyspeaches @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames @you-did-it-sir @not-today-thx @fandomstuffff

{Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s R&S - So-called Disparity (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (“所谓差距”) will not be released in EN or any server as it’s one of the cancelled R&S which came with the Dream Heart Lake gacha event!🍒

This is a full translation, so you can follow along with the narrator if you want to!

Summary: Goldman recognises that the gap between him and Victor isn't actually that large - it simply spans the Amazon River.

Cancelled Victor R&S:

> flashback 

> six out of seventeen

> paradise on earth

[ Chapter 1 ]

Goldman entered that university as the third highest scorer in his entire province. Before that, he always felt like students who jumped off buildings in high school were mentally weak, and were making a fuss out of nothing. It was only after entering university that he knew how blessed he was to be a frog in the well.

Goldman has always had a pretty good mentality. A normal person would require a semester to get used to the psychological gap of being a big fish in a small pond instead of a small fish in a large pond. However, Goldman only needed two weeks - to be more exact, thirteen days, to adjust. 

In his own words, it was something like this: “There is sky above the tallest mountain, and there is land under the deepest sea. This is very normal. I’ll never do something which puts me at a loss like jumping off a building. I, Goldman, have an eighty year old mother and an eighteen year old girlfriend--” before he could finish speaking, the neighbouring scholar snatched the reins of the conversation.

“I couldn’t tell at all. Just because you say something, it doesn’t mean it’s true. Show me a photograph!” The air in the surroundings of the dormitory, which was originally full of pretension, was altered by Goldman’s words.

In a sense, Goldman had a talent for being a “coordinator”.

The first time he heard of the name “Victor”, Goldman had experienced life as a university student for a month.

“Do you know the guy from 207? The one from the economics department... I can’t remember his name right now, but he’s the one who dresses very stylishly and always has a group of ladies running behind him.”

“Ah, I’ve seen that guy before. I think his surname is Gu. What about it?”

Goldman continued cutting voting slips for the student union,��but his ears had long since developed a mind of their own, eavesdropping on the two people engaging in idle conversation. 

“He seems to have invested in a business run by a few third year students, and they even promised to return him thrice the principal amount in a month.”

“It’s obviously a trap.”

“Let me finish. I originally thought so too, but that guy actually bought a new car!”

“Could his family be wealthy to begin with? Come to think of it, being able to buy a car means the amount he invested as a principal sum must have been quite a lot.”

“Who knows. Anyway, he has been advertising for those third year students recently.”

“Are you stirred?”

“I am, but it was a recruitment for an intern assistant. The opportunity to earn thrice the amount is gone, tch tch tch.”

“If you think about it, If we could learn how to earn thrice the principal amount, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to be an intern.”

“It’s not rare to see such businesses come to a premature end halfway. What if you end up wasting your time if you can’t prove that you did an internship there?”

“That’s true. Also, I’m not even certain what it is they do... it feels a little weird and scary.”

The speaker didn't mean it, but the listener heard it. That night, Goldman knocked on the 207 dormitory, and heard the name “Victor” from the man whose surname was Gu.

Even though he just experienced the blow of seeing a Gold Olympiad medal in the room of this scholar, Goldman was not to be trifled with. If other people didn’t dare to test the waters, he won’t be the first one to stupidly try.

Which is why in the following year, Goldman adopted a wait-and-see attitude. 

-

[ Chapter 2 ]

Goldman interacted with Victor in person in his sophomore year, after he thought to look for an internship.

At that time, the newly established company which was still in its incubation stage was not Goldman’s first choice. But as a full-time sophomore, it was difficult to guarantee the prerequisite GPA in order to receive an offer from the top 500 companies. Which is why decided to try knocking on the doors of the new company.

At first, what went through Goldman’s mind was - if this company was unable to develop, he’d just go somewhere else. After all, there was still time to find other internships.

In the end, halfway through the interview, Goldman realised that the issue wasn’t whether he wanted to join the company, but whether it was willing to give him a fighting chance. Those who fluently recited their prepared lines and rehearsed repeatedly said that they failed to be accepted into the small company called “LFG”.

In actuality, Goldman’s self-introduction was cut short not even after thirty seconds, by a sharp-eyed man with short black hair.

“I only have one question. What will you do?”, with an emphasis on the word “you”.

Goldman noticed that when the young interviewer asked this question, the other interviewer had a hand to his forehead.

“Huh?”

In just two seconds, Goldman was left dumbfounded. However, as a student leader from the student union for such a long time, he reacted quickly after a slight pause, and started talking grandiloquently about his experience of attracting financial support for businesses.

This was an experience Goldman felt proud of and thought could prove his capabilities, which was why he was full of confidence as he talked about it. 

He didn’t expect that... it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the interviewer, who, at a glance, looked like he wasn’t good to get along with.

“I’m asking what you, Goldman, will do.” It wasn’t even a question this time. Separated across the table, Goldman could easily sense the other party’s brimming impatience.

“Ah, Goldman, don’t be anxious. What Victor means is that if you weren’t endorsed by the school, do you think that company would still support you? And what is the reason for that?”

Thanks to the other interviewer, Goldman’s interview could continue. 

When Goldman left the company, whatever impression he had of that “saviour” was merely an outline - his short hair was dyed brown, and he looked pretty easy to get along with. Apart from that... he couldn't remember anything.

The thing he remembered was that sharp gaze, that impatient tone, and that emphasis on “you”.

Oh, so that’s Victor. 

Always observant, one moment didn’t slip past Goldman: the interviewer with the genial expression looked at the CV on the desk before calling his name. 

But Victor didn’t.

On hindsight, Goldman wasn’t sure how he managed to pass the interview. Perhaps it was because Victor chose based on impressions?

Just like the moment he met Victor in person - even though he was stunned by Victor’s aura, there was a sense of expectancy and admiration in his heart. 

Vice versa - Did Victor also experience something back then - a shred of “good feeling” which explained why he allowed Goldman to pass the interview?

But Goldman would never have the courage to verify the answer to this question with Victor.

Even more so when the reputation of LFG grew, causing Goldman’s courage, which wasn’t very large to begin with, to shrink even further.

-

[ Chapter 3 ]

In the year of his graduation, Goldman had a few choices:

One - pursue postgraduate studies in his major as the top of his class. Two - accept one of the offers from the world’s top 500 firms. Three - continue staying in LFG and working together with Victor.

Goldman eliminated the first option - he was in no mood for further studies. Back then, the reason why he entered the country’s top university was to find a good job in the future. Now, since he already had the second option in front of him, doing a postgraduate wouldn’t mean anything to him. 

Goldman had a long struggle between the second and third options. He even specially called his parents in his hometown to seek their opinions.

“Being a trainee is essentially meant to train me to become part of the management in the future. If I go to that company, I just have to work hard and one day, I’ll make it big.”

“Mm, and a large platform means a stable job, and a broadened view. As for the salary... it’s around this amount at the start.”

“If I stay at my current company? I’d probably continue getting scolded by my boss every day. Although the prospects aren’t bad, it might close down anytime.”

“Boss? Oh, actually, he’s a senior who’s older than me by two years. I’ve interacted with him for two years, and he’s all right, just that his temper is a little bad.”

“How do I have a bad temper? Mum, you have no idea that compared to him, your son is piteous little sheep who hasn’t even learned how to hurt someone!”

“And I wasn’t mistreated or bullied. Your son’s skin is tough like iron! It’s not like you don’t know it. Also, I'm not the only one who gets scolded by him. If he only scolds me or can’t tolerate me, why would I follow him? Your son isn’t that silly.”

“Anyway... I feel that following him has enabled me to learn quite a lot of things. I’ve also thought about it - to use my youth to give it a try, and if I really can’t do it, I’ll find another job.”

“My classmates from different fields? They’re either inheriting a business, or going overseas for advanced studies, and can’t give me any advice at all.”

“I’ve been so worried these two days. Mum, which one should I pick?”

Talking garrulously on the phone, Goldman was best described as “a baffled person on the scene.”

[Note] The first part of an idiom is used here - “当局者迷，旁观者清”, which loosely translates to “The person at the scene is baffled, but the onlooker sees clearly. It refers to how outsiders tend to have a better perspective on matters.

He was completely unaware that he had already made an important decision during his discussion with his mother. 

-

[ Chapter 4 ]

Although Goldman had indeed made a decision after graduation that only a hot-blooded youth would, he wasn’t the type of person to get frenetically excited over something.

As a man, he even allowed himself to wallow in a gloomy mood for a few days each month. This “dejection every month” became all the more inevitable when his understanding of Victor gradually deepened.

At the very beginning, he wanted to learn things from Victor, and from LFG. Honestly speaking, Victor did teach him how to get multiple returns on a principal sum in a short period of time, and he was also exposed to the many rules of the market. But there were still many things that he just couldn’t get a hold of no matter how hard he tried. 

For example, strategising. For example, structuring.

The gap between himself and Victor... how should he put it, it wasn’t that large - it simply spanned the Amazon River. Even though the gap wasn’t as frightening as the Mariana Trench, it was still a distance that he couldn’t cross through sheer hard work. 

How did the proverb go? All roads lead to Rome, but some people were born in Rome. Whether it was Victor’s thinking or his vision, these were things Goldman couldn’t learn.

Sometimes, he felt discouraged when thinking about it. Despite being born into a good life and having handsome features, Victor was still so hardworking. In that case, was there even a point for a normal person like Goldman to work hard?

On one particular day, when he was harbouring such a dejected feeling, he accidentally spilt coffee outside Victor’s office. To make matters worse, Victor was sitting in the office, witnessing the scene of the coffee being overturned.

Goldman was certain that he would get chewed out by Victor: Just like the time when he made a mistake and missed an underselling opportunity, had an incorrect financial leverage, and pasted wrong labels on documents, etc...

Or maybe he’d hear a clicking of the tongue, or receive a glare. But he never expected that this time, Victor’s response only comprised of four words: To err is human.

“Boss, are you talking to me?” At that time, Victor was not yet LFG’s CEO. 

“...who else? Would I be talking to myself?”

Oh, it’s that familiar tone and familiar taunting, there’s nothing wrong - that was what the junior thought.

“Boss, are you in an especially good mood today?” At that time, Goldman was not yet as overcautious as he is.

“...I guess so.” A pause followed. When the senior opened his mouth again, it was uncertain whether it was an invitation or not. “The company going public is something that is more or less done discussing. When the time comes, I’ll need a CEO assistant.”

Such a light tone caused both parties to involuntary think of what happened during the interview a few years ago.

“...if you do that again.” his gaze was cast towards the mess on the floor. Victor’s tone was as calm as always. “I’ll do an external recruitment.”

Only after three seconds did Goldman understand what Victor was saying.

In just three seconds, the Amazon River became the limpid, clear stream outside his old home.

In this mirror-like stream, Goldman suddenly saw himself clearly:

Actually, Goldman had never sought to possess Victor’s air of a monarch.

To him, it was enough to be acknowledged by such a “king”.

After three seconds, apart from “dejection every month”, this little assistant had another motivation to press on.

-

Other cancelled R&S: here

Lucien’s cancelled R&S (by other user): here

[heartslogos]

EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT TO THE BATMAN [44]

It’s frankly bizarre.

That’s the only word Jason has for it.

Drake looks pleasant. Not in the way he pretends to look pleasant, which is normally just him looking one step above roadkill. Drake looks actively pleasant while simultaneously being present in his own body. Now that’s beyond bizarre, it’s unheard of.

He’s also talking like…a nice person. Which is just out of the realm of human understanding because he’s a complete and total asshole. That’s not an insult, that’s a mark of respect. If Jason thinks someone’s an asshole they’re functional in some way that works and has kept them alive. If you aren’t an asshole in Gotham you’re about to be dead, a patsy, or worse.

Drake’s downright acting like someone from…not Gotham. He wouldn’t go so far as to say Metropolis, but he’s definitely not at a Bludhaven or Jersey, either.

“Were your accommodations to your liking, Mr. Kord?” Drake says, all sincere and eager to please pleasantness that’s making Jason’s hair stand on end. This is a trap. This is a fucking trap. “If you like we can make other arrangements.”

“It was fine, Tim. I know I ask this every time, but do you treat all of your guests like this? It’s very impressive.”

“Mr. Kord, we here at W.E. have the utmost respect for you and all of the projects that come through Kord Enterprises. We value your good relationship with us above all others.”

Jason turns to Damian, because Damian knows more about this company than anyone aside from Drake himself, and mouths we do?

Damian looks a mixture of fascinated, annoyed, and downright disturbed. No answers from that one. Though that isn’t a surprise.

Damian somehow got both Bruce’s annoying fort-rightness mixed with Talia’s intrigue and mystery. It shouldn’t work, but it comes together really nicely in the form of the most annoying teenager ever.

“Would you like something to drink, Mr. Kord?” Drake asks, fussing over the man the way he probably should fuss over his actual employer. “We have a wide selection of beverages approved by the FDA for human consumption.”

Jason’s never had anyone explicitly say that about anything that’s entered his body before. He doesn’t like what this implies.

“Water’s fine, Tim,” Kord says, smiling. “Every time I visit I’m reminded just how much we missed out on you not coming to our internship program.”

“Oh, believe me, sir,” Drake says, “You and me both.”

Jason turns to Dick on his other side who’s just watching this exchange with an intensity he normally reserves for high risk stake outs.

Bruce has yet to join the meeting. Jason’s beginning to think he’s not showing up at all out of spite. Or maybe he wanted to make a grand entrance. Either way it’s kind of like he’s losing because it looks like Ted Kord might just snipe Tim Drake right out from under them any second now.

“I would love some of those approved by the FDA beverages,” Dick says.

Tim turns a look of what can only be described as complete, utter bitter irritation onto Dick and says, “Those are for guests.”

Dick turns and looks straight at Jason. Jason doesn’t know what to make of that expression so he looks away.

Before any more of this unpleasant pleasantness can continue the door to the conference room opens and Bruce finally shows up.

Jason feels his skin crawl because it looks like the Brucie personal is firmly in place, anchored by the million watt smile that makes B look absolutely demented.

“Teddy!” Brucie says, striding in and closing the distance between himself and Ted Kord like he’s going to, like some sort of Lovecraftian horror, open that million watt smile and swallow Ted Kord whole. “It’s been ages since you last visited.”

Kord goes for a handshake. Brucie goes for a hug.

Ted Kord looks like he’s dying.

That’s how most people look when they get hugged by Brucie. Especially when they know who Brucie really is.

One does not get hugged and smiled at with hat much enthusiasm by the Batman and walks away from it feeling good.

Jason, Dick, and Damian avert their eyes.

“Mr. Wayne,” Drake says, all bitter and unhappy unpleasant normalcy, “If you could take your seat so we can begin the meeting. Mr. Kord is on such a tight schedule and we’ve already imposed upon him for far too long.”

“It’s okay, Tim,” Kord says. “Like you said earlier, the relationship between our companies is one that we value very highly. I can make time for my friends.”

Brucie laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. It’s a fucking terrible laugh. It’s the kind of laugh that would make you think that the Joker’s been usurped or deposed or whatever. It’s the laugh that’s the reason why most of the JLA works very hard to make sure they never cross paths with Batman’s civilian identity ever.

(Except for Clark and Diana, but they’re…Clark and Diana and are a general exception to most everything. They’re part of the extreme triumvirate of too nice, too reasonable, and too creepy.)

Jason kind of feels something in his chest activate when Brucie laughs. It’s a mix between a gag, a cough, and some sort of palpitation. It is absolutely not healthy at all and it’s going to be the cause of his second death if he isn’t careful about that shit.

“I’m so glad to hear that, Theodore! Tim, could you excuse us while Ted and I discuss some things?”

Drake instantly looks like his namesake. Angry. Dragon.

Jason has no idea why B thinks baiting the guy who’s basically running the circus of his life into near blind rage is fun but he’d rather the guy didn’t do it when Jason was present. Because Drake is going to remember that Jason doesn’t say anything and bring him into the list of names he’s singled out for revenge.

“Pardon? Sir. I think I should be here to assist.”

“Nonsense, Damian here can handle it. He’s got to start seeing how things work for when he grows up! Right, sport?”

Drake turns those angry lizard eyes onto Damian, and at this point Jason’s just relieved B didn’t say his name.

Damian holds it together like a champ and just says, “You’ve been dismissed, Drake.”

Drake smiles. And this is both familiar — which is comforting — and horrific — because of what it implies, that the asshole Drake is back in town.

“Of course, sirs,” Drake says, smiling that smile that belongs on a dead person’s body. “Do page should you need any further assistance. Shall I check in on you in about an hour?”

“We’ll call if we need anything,” B says, waving Drake off.

Jason and Dick keep their eyes firmly focused on the table in front of them so they don’t risk meeting Drake’s basilisk stare as he passes them on his way out.

“Very well, sirs. I’ll be working on those press release statements for Ms. Vale,” Drake says. His parting shot. His killer. “The ones about the upcoming Valentine’s day brunch we’re hosting. I’m sure she’ll be absolutely thrilled to find that one of you has volunteered to be her escort to the event. Absolutely. Thrilled.”

[qitwrites]

i’ve watched homecoming and my feelings are real and overwhelming so have some awkward dad! tony and precious! peter

“Why am I here?”

It isn’t that Peter is ungrateful, not one bit. Stark’s couches are way more comfortable than the ones he’s got at home, Stark’s desks are equipped with all kinds of features that no 15 year old would ever require to do simple homework, Stark’s windows are long and only slightly tinted and give way to an amazing view; basically, Stark’s everything is somehow just better.

But this, what they’re doing, isn’t making a whole lot of sense.

Tony doesn’t look up from the tablet in his hand, simply makes a confused sound. “What do you mean why?”

Peter shakes his head, looking around incredulously before settling his eyes on Tony. “I mean, there’s no work, no mission, no Avengers protocol that’s been activated, but you sir, went out of your way to invite me over. And I’m not sure I understand why.”

Tony does look up at this, eyes narrowed accusingly.

“I didn’t go out of my way, wha-“

“You called me,” Peter interrupts. “You called me, on my cell, right after class. You called me, told me to come, and even sent Happy to make sure I got here.” Happy was anything but, well, happy, to constantly play the role of chaperone/driver for a 15 year old. Peter could understand that, no hard feelings.

Tony shifts in his seat, swallowing forcefully and looking back down at the device warming his palms. “Yes, well, I just wanted to make sure your grades weren’t dropping. You know, keep an eye on you while you did homework, answer any doubts you might have, etc, etc. I mean, May would kill me if I let you mess up in high school because of your, um, internship.”

Peter isn’t buying it. Call it his spidey sense, or something equally cool and bug related, but the whole scene smells fishy.

Tony clears his throat. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have any questions?”

Peter raises his pencil and shrugs, “No, I’m good.”

Tony nods at the tablet, “Ok good. Now go back to studying, you’re distracting me.”

Now this, Peter knows for a fact, is a lie. Tony’s been staring at that same blueprint for the last four minutes and eighteen seconds, which doesn’t seem like a lot, but for Tony, it is. If people thought Peter was smart, then Tony was in a league of his own.

Which makes Peter think; why does Tony want him here? Nothing life-threatening is happening to either of them, unless-

Peter whips his head up, “Are you dying?”

Tony winces at the sound of his loud voice. “Pipe down, and no, to my knowledge, I am not currently dying. Except, of course, you’re talking about the mortality of my human body, in which case, yes, I am. So is everyone else, thankfully.”

Peter heaves a sigh of relief and stares at his notebook, mentally creating a list titled Reasons Why Tony Stark Would Want Me In His Home When There’s No Mission Or Dying Involved.

So far, he’s got nothing.

A thought, fleeting and laughably improbable, flits through his mind, but once the idea’s in his head, it doesn’t budge, ingraining itself in his brain. It’s stupid, probably not the case at all, but you know, what if?

What if Tony had called him over just because? What if he wanted Peter to hang around just so he could be in the company of the boy, no ulterior motive in mind? Peter was a pretty responsible kid. Ok, not counting the time he’d wrecked the neighbor’s tree house, or scared the cat at the Deli down the street in his costume, or lost yet another school bag while he zoomed off to do hero work, but otherwise, he’s pretty chill. He doesn’t smoke or drink, do drugs of any kind, and he treats the limited number of women in his life well. So really, what if-

Yeah right, Peter thinks, scoffing at himself.

“What?”

Peter begins writing down the formula for morphine, or as the fancy scientists like to call it, (5α,6α)-7,8-didehydro- 4,5-epoxy-17-methylmorphinan-3,6-diol, and shrugs. “Nothing, just thought for a second that, you know, maybe you called me here cause you missed me. I mean, we don’t see each other often, so maybe that’s the reason?” Peter laughs humorlessly. “But uh, yeah, I came to my senses so, don’t worry, I know that’s not why.”

He waits for a beat, then two, then two more. He waits for a huff of amusement, or for a firm confirmation that Tony is disapproving the theory that his mind has conjured, most likely in a state of wishful thinking. He waits for anything, but is met by silence.

Looking up through thick lashes, the pencil slips out of Peter’s hand when he sees that Tony, The Tony Stark of Stark enterprises, for all his cocky remarks and snappy comebacks, is blushing. Not a slight tint of his cheeks, just a dash of coloring around his salt and pepper stubble, but a full blown blush, even his ears falling prey to the blood.

Peter stands abruptly, the chair sliding back smoothly.

“Are you serious right now?”

Tony regains his composure annoyingly fast, but what’s done is done.

“Stop twisting things and words, it-“

Tony’s cut off rather rudely when the boy chooses to run over to him and throw his arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight, tight hug. Tony smells the way he always does- clean, expensive, with just the faintest hint of oil, probably from his suit. He begins to struggle immediately, the tablet squashed quite uncomfortably between them.

“Get off me- what are you doing?”

“It’s called a hug,” Peter answers cheekily, squeezing a little tighter. “I missed you too, Mr Stark.”

And he did. He really, really did. It wasn’t for all the superficial reasons one might think- yes, his couches are amazing, and his gadgets are cool, and the fridge is always stocked, and the pantry has some pretty great churros, but Peter has missed him. He’s missed Tony and his underhanded compliments, his snarky replies, his fatherly affection, the way he fusses over Peter regarding the smallest things- Why did you quit band even though it’s lame or Good work at the science fair.

He misses the attention Tony pays towards him- not the superhero him, not spiderman, but him. Irrespective of how vehemently he denies it, Tony’s come to care about Peter. He remembers the little things, he always has. Peter’s heart clenches in an annoyingly happy way when the realization hits him like a ton of bricks to the face.

Tony stays silent for a second before squirming. “Seriously kid, get off me.”

Peter holds him just a little closer, “Just a minute more, please?”

Tony doesn’t deign his request with a verbal response, but when Peter feels a warm, almost gentle pressure on his elbow, he knows Tony is accepting the hug and in his own way, returning it. He hides his face in the fabric of the man’s shirt before pulling away, a wide, extremely toothy smile on his face.

“Thanks for everything, Mr Stark.”

Tony rolls his eyes and swats Peter away with the tab. “Scram kid. Finish studying for that chemistry quiz I know you have day after.”

Peter sticks his tongue out childishly and walks back to the desk, his cheeks aching from all the smiling.

He always, always remembers the little things.

And somehow, that means the world.