#peter has a bad knee but can generally get around fine. it's just when it acts up that he very occasionally grabs a cane.

[softgrungeprophet]

so the downside of giving kaine a cane when he gets older, it turns out, is that i keep spelling "cane" wrong in my notes because i keep writing his name instead 😂😭

[free-pool-trash]

everything - peter maximoff

PART 2 TO DISAPPOINTMENT (you can read it on its own but it might be a tiny bit confusing)

hey guys, i missed peter and i hope this makes you guys feel better abt the first part of this fic <33

comments/reblogs/asks always appreciated <3

word count: 4k

warnings: angst, panic attack, fluff, probably some mistakes its 3:33am 😩✋🏻

summary: peter comes to your new reality <3

masterlist

His fingers drummed rapidly against the metal table located in the jet hanger, beneath the basketball court. Hank waited too, although, the beast was considerably calmer than Peter was at the moment.

“The radio has been quiet for like twenty minutes… do you think something went wrong?” Peter forced the words out in quick succession as he gnawed on his lips.

Hank sighed as that was the fourth time Peter had asked that question, every five minutes for the past twenty minutes- like clockwork, he’d asked Hank the same thing. The only varient was that the question started with, “It’s been five minutes...,” then, “It’s been ten minutes…,” to, “it’s been fifteen minutes…”

Hank understood that the boy was nervous, he was too, afterall Peter wasn’t the only one with a girlfriend on the uncharacteristically sketchy mission. However, if Peter asked him the same question one more time, he’d turn blue out of annoyance.

“Peter, I’m begging you to stop asking. They’re probably fine, the mutant’s energy surges probably just fried the radio,” Hank explained, trying to sound convincing for his and Peter’s peace of mind.

Peter gaped in response, “And that doesn’t worry you?”

Hank threw his head back with exhaustion and groaned, “Of course it does,” he started, running his hands down his face before continuing, “But stressing out about it isn’t going to do anyone any good. All we can do is wait for them to get back,” he finished, fixing Peter with a stern look as he’d began to bounce his knee relentlessly- annoyingly.

His fingers drumming faster than the human eye could see, his knee jolting at a similar speed, a feeling of unmistakable dread had started forming in the boy’s stomach, and no amount of finger tapping or knee bouncing could make it go away.

He had a feeling in his gut, one that he wouldn’t be able to back up with any type of logic or reason, but regardless, he had a feeling seated deep in the pit of his stomach that told him, extremely definitely, that something wasn’t right.

As best he could for the next hour and a half, Peter tried to stay quiet. Leaving the hanger to run laps around the basketball court; his attempt at exerting some nervous energy, his attempts were fruitless though as all he could focus on was that feeling in his bones that told him that you, his longtime girlfriend, were in danger. What only served to amplify his anxiety was the fact that if something terrible had indeed happened to you at the hands of the reality jumping mutant; there probably wasn’t much he could do to reverse it.

The conversation he’d shared with you last night rang through his head while he weighed up every possible outcome of your situation, and in conjunction; the situation he could possibly find himself in.

“So say your lovely girlfriend does get sent to an alternate reality… would you follow?” Within a second of your question, Peter had flipped your positions so that your back was against the mattress and the man in question was hovering on top of you with a cheeky grin.

“Sweet cheeks, I’d follow you anywhere.” He told you and you giggled at the stupid pet name before pulling him down to kiss you.

He meant it, he knew he meant it. Peter Maximoff had never been so sure of a fact in his entire existence; he’d follow you anywhere. His issue was that anywhere usually didn’t extend to alternate realities, but to him, if it meant rescuing you, he’d figure out a way to work out the kinks. Peter shook the thoughts from his head, he needed to be rational. You were probably fine, but yet again, he found last night's words echoing in his brain, the promise you’d made rattling around the confines of his head as violently as a screen door during a hurricane.

“Pete…” You whispered, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. “I’m gonna be okay. Raven and Charles will be with me the whole time, we’ll be in and out. I promise.”

When his heart began to beat out of control, he stopped running at lightning speed in favour of leaning against a thick tree adjacent to the basketball court. Aiming to steady his pulse he briefly closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He thought about you; about how you’d play with his fingers to stop him from drumming them, how you’d cause any and all of his intrusive thoughts to be ejected from his mind when your lips would meet his in surprise kisses, or how you’d drape your arms around his shoulders and rest your cheek against his chest at random times. Those were the small interactions that brought him the greatest amount of serenity. Just as his heartbeat returned to its usual overactive pace, the jet you’d left on earlier was flying overhead.

Peter rushed back to the hanger, nervous energy at an all time high when the jet landed before him and Hank. Peter bounced on the heels of his feet as he waited for you to bound into his arms and pepper kisses all over his face. But that didn’t happen.

Peter’s heart dropped into that familiar pit in his stomach when Raven and Charles stepped out of the plane, looking crestfallen and solemn when their eyes met Peter’s wide, fear filled, brown eyes.

Before anyone could say a word, Peter sped into the plane, unfortunately confirming his suspicions; you weren’t there. Only a second later, the boy was back in his original spot in front of Charles and Raven.

“She better not be where I think she is right now or I swear to God, man-“ Peter began to threaten as Hank let out a shaky breath of disbelief.

“Peter,” Raven placed her hand on his shoulder when he looked like he was about to hyperventilate, Charles had yet to speak, no doubt trying to find an appropriate way to tell a young mutant that the only constant in his life, his only pacer, had been lost on a mission due to his negligence.

“Where is she? Tell me where she is, I’ll go get her I can be there in back in like five minutes just-“ Peter immediately rushed to speak, ignoring Hank’s confused gaze and Charles’ pained grimace.

“Slow down, bud,” Hank voiced when Peter neared the point of vibrating where he stood.

“The mutant, Galan, he said he’d bring her back, if, and only if, we complied with his demands,” Charles started to explain, grimacing again when Raven cut him off rather bluntly.

“But we can’t. His demands are insane.” She glared at Charles as she spoke, she believed that he shouldn’t have even brought up the option in front of Peter, there was absolutely no way they could accept the deranged mutant’s demands, Charles knew that, and Raven hadn’t wanted to give Peter false hope.

“So what?” Peter yelled, anger replacing nervousness. He’d warned them it was a bad idea. You’d warned them it was a bad idea. It could’ve been avoided. Had he been there, he could’ve saved you. “So what, she's just gone? My girl is just gone and what? I’m supposed to just be okay with it?” He seethed, his breath heavy while his chest heaved with rage.

When, after a moment, nobody spoke, Peter shook his head, “Come on you guys�� you’re not seriously considering leaving her in some wacked out world all by herself, are you?” His voice sounded pleading, like a child, stripped raw and entirely vulnerable in a way that made them all wish they’d been more careful, hell, even Hank felt guilty and he hadn’t even been there. He, too, had been against the whole mission in the first place, actually.

“We’re really sorry, Peter,” was all Charles said before he exited the room, Raven stayed rooted in place though, at a loss for what to say or do next.

Peter swallowed thickly, his throat closing and his heart pumping at a rapid rate as tears welled in his eyes and oxygen seemed to disappear from his general area when the reality of the situation set in. You were gone, he’d get you back; even if it took him the rest of his life he’d get you back, but right in that moment, you were just gone. He hadn’t heard Hank’s and Raven’s “Woah!”s as the silver haired boy stumbled on his feet, his knees buckling before he had a chance to steady himself. Nor could he hear the gut wrenching rasps that left his mouth as he slipped into a panic attack that would surely result in him passing out.

“Peter,” Raven was in front of his face, but it wasn’t right- no, you were the one who talked him down, not Raven, it wasn’t right. “—you need to calm down, breath—“ her voice was distorted, as if he was hearing her from beneath a surface of water.

The older woman looked to Hank in desperation, he only furrowed his brow and gradually lowered Peter to the ground. He watched as the speedster rasped and muttered, he only managed to pick up a few words, his heart pulling with each one.

Hank rubbed a soothing hand up and down Peter’s back, while Raven prompted him to breath, eventually they managed to get through to the boy, though, Hank could tell it was more a matter of him having worn himself out.

“You’re alright,” Hank tried to soothe but Peter only whimpered.

He sniffled and met Hank’s gaze, hollowly and miserably, his lips quivering as her spoke in a desperate whisper, “I have to get her back, man. I just have to.”

*

The kettle screeched out a whistle from the kitchen, letting yourself and Wanda know the water was boiled, “I’ll get it,” you told her, you stood from the porch steps, squeezing Wanda’s shoulder on your way in as she gave you a grateful smile.

It’d been a few months since Wanda had sought you out after WestView broke down, you recalled the words she spoke fondly; “You don’t have to be alone. Remember what I said when we first met? We could help each other.”

Of course, you’d agreed to go on the run with her. And true enough, you’d both been extremely helpful to each other. She was a true friend and if nothing else, she was a bright light in the confused foreign world. As much as you adored Wanda, and as much as she adored you, neither of you were so naive as to think you weren’t still swamped in a pool of loneliness, craving for what you’d both respectively lost.

“Wands, was it peppermint you wanted?” You called from the kitchen, grinning slightly when she responded.

“Ya! With honey!” She yelled softly, “Please!”

Dutifully, you made the two cups of tea before returning to your spot next to Wanda on the steps, holding the hot cup between your hands and breathing in the minty steam. The scenery that surrounded you was gorgeous, nothing short of breathtaking. Rolling hills, huge lakes and flower fields that surrounded the cabin gave it the vibe of something plucked right from a storybook. If it was taking yours and Wanda’s story into consideration, you thought, it’d be one tragically dark storybook, but all the good classics were like that, you supposed.

Despite the eye catching backdrop, your mind was elsewhere today, more so than usual.

Wanda’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, “May I ask you something?”

Taking a sip from your tea you gave her an amused smile from over the rim of your ceramic cup, “Always.”

With that, Wanda turned her body to face you and you mirrored her action, then, she tilted her head curiously, “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while, but I didn’t want to pry,” she began causing you to snort out a laugh.

“Never stopped you before,” Wanda rolled her eyes, but smiled, continuing to her actual inquiries.

“When we were in WestView, you woke up a few times, but only when the imposter acting as my brother was near you,” you let out a heavy sigh, which stopped her in her tracks. This conversation had been brewing for a while, you could see it in the way Wanda sometimes hesitated before bringing up certain topics.

“In my reality, I have a boyfriend. He’s my everything, really,” you told her, staring blankly out into the fields as you spoke, “We’ve been together since we broke his father out of a high security prison together in ‘73– did I ever tell you that our timelines are different?” You wondered, losing the thread of your thoughts as you recalled the most significant few days of your life that had transpired in 1973, when you and Peter were just eighteen. It was only five years ago for you, but in this reality, the 70s were more than forty years ago.

“You’ve mentioned it,” she reminded you and you nodded, clearing your throat and getting back to the explanation that Wanda was expecting.

“Well, he’s a mutant like me. He’s got super speed, like your Pietro. His birth name is actually Pietro but he hates it, had it changed to Peter when he moved to the states— kids used to pick on him for it,” you explained, laughing lightly, thinking about the way his nose would scrunch up cutely when you’d call him Pietro.

“That man in WestView… he was identical to my Peter and he had the mutation and… his last name is Maximoff so, I don’t know, I guess it made sense that he’d be playing your brother. When we met I thought nobody was ever going to come for me, then I saw him and I was so happy…” Wanda rested a gentle hand on your knee when your face grew mournful.

“I thought he’d come to save me, bring me home, you know? But it wasn’t him at all, just some guy called Ralph Bohner,” you shrugged with a small pout, attempting to diffuse the weight of the confession with a light, humourless chuckle, “Stupid name.”

Wanda fixed you with a genuine smile, “Tell me about him,” she promoted and you sighed, dreamily this time.

“He’s kind, and funny, he makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known— seriously, I could be having the worst day of my life and all he’d have to do is look at me and everything would feel better,” Wanda’s smile widened, she understood, her Pietro had that effect on her too.

“He’s honest, he’s so good hearted but he can be so full of mischief sometimes, he’s a huge prankster back home,” you paused, biting back a smile for a second, then carried on, “He’s got killer taste in music, before we actually started dating he used to lend me his favourite vinyls and make me mixtapes… he used to write crap on the top of the cassettes with black sharpie, like, “kinda cool songs for a sorta cool girl” or, and this is my personal favourite, “songs that make me think of you”, he drew a little winky face so, naturally, I thought it was going to be super cute,” your own laughter cut you off, Wanda’s mingled with yours and she raised her eyebrows.

“And was it?” She asked, chuckling when you shook your head, your smile the widest she’d ever seen it. She couldn’t help but smile too, the more you told her about him, the more she realised he really was just the alternate version of her brother.

“The only song on the whole thing was ‘Let’s Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye!” Wanda threw her head back in laughter, your cheeks hurt from smiling but your heart felt lighter having spoken about the boy you love.

Once she’d stopped laughing, Wanda took you in before speaking the thing she’d been thinking about since you became friends, “You know, I think Pietro would’ve liked you very much,” she joined you in staring off into the fields, “Peter sounds a lot like him.”

“You’d like him, I think,” Wanda nudged her knee against hers and sipped her tea.

“I hope I get to meet him someday,” she stated, causing your tone to dampen ever so slightly as you agreed.

“I hope so too.”

*

Peter hadn’t slept in weeks, by now, the speedster was running on nothing but twinkies and redbull. He hadn’t gotten a chance to sleep really, he’d left the mansion almost two weeks ago on what he was calling a solo mission. By solo mission he meant; finding the mutant that sent you to another reality and asking him, politely, to just plop him wherever he sent you. He had no return plan, but he knew what the X-Men had planned, well, more specifically Erik. He was going to kill Galan, and if that happened that eliminated every chance Peter had of getting his soulmate back.

Peter made a choice the second he left the mansion, he’d rather be in an alternate reality with you than in this reality without you.

Besides, he was sick of his friends telling him he should “move on”, you’d only been gone six months and everyone was acting like waiting for you was a hopeless waste of time, it was driving him insane.

You were it for him, he wouldn’t move on for as long as he lived and he knew you felt the same, but, regardless of that, he wanted to find you sooner rather than later.

Your side of the bed didn’t smell like you anymore, your favourite blanket (which Peter had shoved in his rucksack that he brought with him) didn’t hold the same warmth as it did when you’d wrap it around his shoulders. To put things simply, missing you was eating him alive.

He was following leads to get to Galan and finally, in a dingy motel in some lesser known area of the south, Peter found him.

“You’re one of the X-Men aren't you? Here to agree to my terms? Took you long enough,” the mutant spoke lowly, his grumbling voice all the more intimidating in the dimly lit room.

Peter stood awkwardly, out of place, while the mutant stared at him expectantly, “Uh, no, actually,” Peter finally managed to choke out after a moment of silence.

Galan scoffed, “Look, like I told your buddies; I’m not bringing the girl back-“

Peter shook his head, cutting Galan off frantically, “I don’t need you to bring her back. I want you to send me to her,” Galan raised a scarred eyebrow at the young man in front of him, he looked like all hell, bags under his eyes so prominent they almost didn’t look real. He had something of a nervous quality about him, Galan thought.

“You’re Quicksilver, am I correct?” Peter simply nodded his head in confirmation and Galan rolled his shoulders, “I gotta admit, it’d be nice to get you out of my way.”

Peter looked at him pleadingly, “So? Will you send me to her?”

Galan nodded his head, there was no downside for him, really. “Don’t see why not. But humour me for a second, kid. What’s so special about this girl?” Galan asked, a smirk on his face that unnerved Peter.

Peter took in a deep breath and looked Galan straight in the eyes, “I love her, she’s sorta my other half. I’m a total loser without her,” Peter tried to sound aloof but his body language and pleading gaze weren’t fooling anyone.

Galan snorted out a laugh, muttering something along the lines of “Ah, young love” but that was the last thing Peter heard before the world around him faded away.

When he came to, all he knew was that he was freezing, which was saying something considering he was nearly always too warm. He jolted into a sitting position, darkness surrounded him and all he could smell was grass and a very faint smell of smoke coming from somewhere in the distance. After a few seconds, Peter’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and all he could gather was that he was somewhere very, very hilly. The noises of wild animals in the distance spurred Peter to get onto his feet and start running.

He ran for maybe one minute until he reached a cozy looking wood cabin. The lights were off but smoke still poured from the chimney.

Too cold and too exhausted to think too much, Peter walked up the porch steps and knocked three times on the door.

“Hey, uh, anyone home?” He called when nobody came to the door after a few minutes. Just as he was contemplating running away a girl he didn’t recognise opened the door. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in shock, Peter wasn’t sure why.

“Come in,” she told him immediately, and again, Peter didn’t question it, the strawberry blonde led him to a sofa and motioned for him to sit down, with a flick of her hand the fire sparked to life and Peter let out a silent breath of relief. Whoever this girl was, she was a mutant like him. “I’ll be- I’ll be right back.”

Wanda practically ran into your room, shaking you awake roughly, a crazed smile on her face like a child on Christmas, “Y/n, wake up!”

You cracked your eyes open with a groan and hid your face against your pillow, “What?” You asked in a whine and Wanda would’ve been endeared by how much of a child you were when you were sleepy, had it not been for the love of your life sitting on your living room sofa.

“Just come on, will you? You’ll sleep better once you see this,” she prompted, you let out a weak groan but threw your duvet off your legs anyway, sluggishly following Wanda into the living room, your fuzzy socks helping you shuffle over the hardwood floors without needing to lift your feet off the ground too much.

“It’s like 3am, Wands, this better be—“ you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp immediately upon seeing him, “Peter?” You asked, this time you had to be sure.

His own eyes widened and before he could even consider giving you a verbal answer, you were completely encompassed by his arms, but that was all the answer you needed.

A choked sob left your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, his back shook and his tears were already soaking through your tee shirt, letting you know he was crying too.

“Y/n,” he muttered against you, pressing feverish kisses all over your face while he took in your appearance, “You’re okay?”

You nodded your head, eyes watery and smile shaky. Yours hands cupped his cheek, your thumbs brushing the tears away from under his tired eyes, “I’m okay.”

Peter’s eyes continued to rack over you, his fatigue catching up to him as your soft thumbs stroked his cheekbones, “When was the last time you slept, Pete?” A sleepy smile formed on his lips at the sound of your voice, he would never be able to articulate how deeply he’d missed you.

“S’been a few weeks,” he answered and your eyes widened.

With a sad smile, you placed a kiss on his cheek before taking both of his hands in your own, “C’mon, you need rest so you can answer all the questions I plan on asking you in the morning.”

Wanda, it seemed, had already slinked back to her own room.

Once you arrived in your bedroom, Peter shimmied out of his jeans before crawling into your warm bed and opening his arms, beckoning you in. You didn’t need any convincing, you happily crawled into bed and let Peter wrap his arms around you as you laid your cheek against his chest.

“I have so many things to say but I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out,” Peter said softly, squeezing you against him as closely as possible, burying his nose in your hair and sighing gently.

As gently as you could, you leaned up and placed a tender kiss against his lips, “You can say everything you need to say when you wake up.”

“I love you,” Peter whispered, chasing your lips with his languidly, “You’re my everything, you know that?” Of course, you wouldn’t know how much weight the statement held just yet, that didn’t matter to Peter, though. He had you back, the other details didn’t seem so important anymore.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Found - Rudy, Mason, and Clyde

The end! Of the arc! Whooo this has been fun! Thanks to all who read. (i'm not down with them as oc's but this arc is over.)

TW: whumper as caretaker, stressed whumper/caretaker, distant whumper/caretaker, drugging tw, implied changing of clothes, implied bathing,

[Masterlist] [Stalker Arc Tag]

Mason was sitting at his desk, vigorously typing an email to the support of every social media platform he could. They weren’t giving him anything, even though he knew that they had the information. They must - companies are always doing shit like that. Tracking. Monitoring. They knew who this creep was and they were protecting them.

At this point, he was ready to get his lawyer involved if he got yet another generic-reply email.

Clyde was curled under his desk. He hadn’t done that in years, not since he was new and very attached to his new Master. Mason trained it out of him a while ago, but something about the familiar place was safe for him right now. So, Mason allowed it.

His phone rang and he reached for it automatically. There had been a lot of calls over the last couple days, and he was nearly fed up with them.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mason Driver?”

He took a deep breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. “It is, who is speaking?”

“Hi this is Amber from the Lakefield Pet Shelter? We have your pet here-”

Mason stood quickly, accidentally kicking Clyde in the process. “Ah, fuck, sorry bud. Is he okay? Who brought him in? Is he hurt? Where is Lakefield I want to come pick him up-”

“Sir, sir, please slow down. He’s okay, he’s got a sprained ankle and is a little roughed up in general, but he’s okay. You can come pick him up at any time, someone from the local department already came and spoke to him.”

A strange sense of anger swelled in him for a moment that someone questioned his pet without him there, but he shoved it away quickly. Other things to focus on, other things he had to do. The woman was still talking but Mason was distracted looking for his keys.

“Can I pick him up tonight? Now?”

There was a small pause. “Yes, Mr. Driver, you can come get him tonight.” After a couple other bits of information, Mason left the house to go get his pet.

Clyde crawled out from under the desk, rubbing his sore hand, a bit confused but hopeful he was understanding half the conversation correctly.

~~

The first thing Mason felt when he saw Rudy hobble out to meet him was relief. Relief that he was back, he was safe, that he was here. Then it was anger. Anger and resentment at the brace around the boy’s ankle, the wraps around his wrists and neck, the bandaids on his face. He had to force his face to remain happy and neutral when he saw the bruise on Rudy’s temple.

“Master!” he cried, nearly falling into the kneeling man’s arms. Mason held him close, arms wrapped around.

“Rudy, thank fucking god you’re okay. I was so worried, oh my god. When I find out who took you I’m gonna-”

“Y-you, you know him, Master,” came Rudy’s muffled voice and Mason pulled him away, held tight by his shoulders.

“What?! Who, who the hell would do that? Someone that I know?”

“It was C-Casey, Master.”

Mason’s face grew grave, clenching his teeth. He should have fucking known. Of course, of fucking course Casey would pull some shit like this. Obviously Mason had called out of work, didn’t care what was going on back at the office during the few days Rudy was gone.

Rudy whimpered and Mason released his right grip. “Oh, I’m sorry Sweetheart. God, that fucking snake. I’m going to ruin his whole goddamn life, just wait and see if I don’t completely blacklist him. He’ll never fucking work with pets again.”

“Sir,” hinted one of the workers, reminding Mason of the other people in the lobby. He didn’t care.

“Come on, let's get you out of here.”

The worker nodded and gestured for them to come up to the counter. “He’s ready to go, just need to go over some paperwork and at home care for the other injuries.”

Rudy pressed himself into Mason side as the man’s brow furrowed. “Other injuries? What happened?”

“He’s a little bit dehydrated, but that should go away in a day or two. The bandages around his wrists and neck are to keep him at scratching at the healing skin, so you’ll need to keep those and on use this ointment that’s listed here. Same for the welts on his back. His ankle is sprained but not too badly, so follow up with your regular provider for that. Other than that, you’re good to go.”

Mason swallowed and signed the forms without another word, not trusting himself to say something he’d regret. Besides, it wasn’t their fault.

On the way out, he was already calling his lawyer to get every medical expense taken out of Casey - money or blood.

~~

Clyde was at the door, bouncing at his heels as the key turned. He had been looking out the window, saw when they pulled up. Saw when Rudy got out of the car! He was limping but he was there. He was home.

The older pet nearly knocked him over as they came through the door. Mason had to grab him by the back of his collar to drag him off.

“Clyde! Back! You know better what the hell,” Mason muttered, setting him down on the ground a foot or two away. Clyde looked up at him, clearly wanting to go back to Rudy. Mason rubbed his temples, too tired and frustrated and betrayed to deal with this.

“Room.”

Both boys whimpered, Rudy tugging on the hem of Mason’s shirt to silently plead him not to. “Now, Clyde. He’s fine. Just go upstairs so you’re not underfoot.”

Clyde gave him such wide, hurt, miserable eyes that Mason nearly took it all back. He sighed, but held firm. He said what he said and Clyde needed to obey that. With another glance back at his friend. Clyde crept up the stairs. Rudy whined after him over Mason's shoulder as the man picked him up and carried him to the living room to set him on the couch.

The boy whimpered as Mason walked away, but quieted after a shush.

Mason stood in the kitchen, holding onto the counter and stared at the tile backsplash. Why was this so hard? Rudy was back, he was going to be fine, the police found Casey and his lawyer said his case was good over the phone. He shouldn’t feel so tense, so tight-wound and anxious. The boy was right out there - why couldn’t Mason accept it?

He rubbed a hand across his short stubble and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, along with a drink for Rudy. He just needed time, he guessed. Needed to sleep, and probably eat something, and he’d calm down. Meandering back into the living room, he texted his boss that he was taking some personal time off.

Rudy was curled up on against the armrest, tears bright in his eyes. Mason regretted snapping at him, at both of them, but it would pass. They probably wouldn’t even remember tomorrow.

“Hey bud, drink up. How are you feeling, are you hurting?” He asked as he opened the lid for him.

The boy grabbed the bottle and took a sip, nodding slowly. “I, I’m okay.” His lip was quivering, breath shallow and shaky.

“I missed you,” he confessed as he broke, reaching up for Mason who immediately sat down with him. “I m-missed you s-so much, and Clyde, and h-home, I wanted to get away. I was so scared and c-confused and he was mean and hurt me and-”

Mason shushed him gently, pulling him close and petting his hair. “I know, I know Sweetheart. I’m so sorry that happened - I promise, it will never happen again.”

“He wrote on m-my, my scan-y thing,” Rudy said, itching at the side of his shirt. “And, and he took my collar and made me wear a muzzle that cut my mouth and I didn’t eat because- because I just couldn’t and-”

Mason shushed him again, and this time took his drink so he could really lay the boy down. Poor thing was spiraling, clearly over-stressed and exhausted too. “Shh, Rudy, you need to relax. You’re okay.”

“-he, he made me so confused, Master,” Rudy continued, seemingly unable to stop confessing everything that had happened. “I-I know I belonged to you, because, because of m-my collar and my chip but he made me wear his collar and I started to get confused and forget and uh, hng, I, I think I might have called him Master once and I’m sorry! He wasn’t always bad and one time he pet my hair and I tried to struggle but I didn’t that time and I’m sorry.”

“Okay, okay woah bud you need to slow down. You’re okay, you don’t have to talk about all this right now. I know, I know.” A pause as Mason thought. “Do I need to get something to calm you down?”

“I think I was bad?” Rudy started again, rubbing his eyes and hiccuping. He wasn’t listening to what Mason was saying, which was a kind of answer in itself. He was just more convinced of his choice as when he stood, the boy kept muttering confessions to himself. He’d have to re-visit some training in the next couple days, he reconned, just to correct some thoughts that asshole had implanted.

Rudy took the pill unusually well, words petering out until he was quiet. Mason rubbed his head just the way he knew the boy loved, listening to the unconscious hums of contentment.

“Lets get you to bed early tonight, hm? We’ll deal with all this in the morning.”

He seemed much heavier, now that he was out of it. Mason still got him upstairs, sat him on the bathroom counter to clean him up a little. It also gave him a better chance to see Rudy’s injuries without the boy wiggling and squirming everywhere.

It made his blood boil.

He had seen worse, he had definitely seen worse just walking down the street but that didn’t fucking matter. Rudy was his, and he had not given permission for someone to treat his pet like this. The muzzle had clearly been too tight, chafing and rubbing the sides of his face raw. Same for the collar, and the scratch marks from where Rudy had been clearly trying to get it off. Bruises on his hands and knees, what seemed like a bit of blood in his hair.

Mason cleaned him up the best he could, until the only proof left visible were the bandages and bandaids. He changed those, too, to some colorful ones he had for the boys. Rudy would like those better when he was awake.

After changing him into his pajamas, Mason carried him to his own bedroom and put him on the bed. He sighed and went to go get Clyde.

Clyde was in his room, standing in his pajamas right by the door. The boy had obviously been crying, gently cradling his bruised hand. Mason picked it up carefully, examining it.

“Shit, did I do that, Bugs?” he said, convicted. Clyde didn’t really answer him, eyes glancing from him to the door repeatedly. Mason sighed with a tired smile.

“Yeah, go see him.”

In a flash the boy was gone, down the hall to be with his friend. Mason turned the light off in their room before he went to join them.

Finally, back together. As they should be.

~

tag: @whumpingredroses @as-a-matter-of-whump @albino-whumpee @whumpeesblog @suspicious-whumping-egg

[river-bottom-nightmare]

The Nightwing Suit

There are some absolutely incredible artists out here on tumblr, and seeing their fanart makes me cry tears of joy. Dick Grayson, one of my personal favs, is always a wonderful contender for fanart. His innate grace and agility and flexibility translate beautifully on the artistic spectrum. Bottom line: I love all the Nightwing fanart. However, there is something I want to address with his suit. I’ve been an aerialist ever since I was 7 years old, and I’ve taken gymnastics since I was 3. Now, I specialize in Lyra, while Dick obviously specializes in Trapeze, but when it comes to costume, we’ve got many very important similarities.

DON’TS

When it comes to aerial, we want as much mobility and flexibility as possible. So here are some things that absolutely will not be on his suit.

1. Shoulder Pads. I will scream it from the rooftops if I have to. The Nightwing suit WILL NOT have shoulder pads!! Red Hood? Definitely. Red Robin? Those shoulder pads are important for bo staff strength and support. Robin? Damian probably doesn’t need them, but they won’t hurt. Nightwing? No way. To me, one of the most important parts of my body when practicing and performing are my shoulders. They pull me into hangs and holds, let me rotate myself around, and basically support the rest of my body. This is partially due to user preference: I prefer arm-based stunts and hangs rather than leg based. But it honestly doesn’t matter that much. Nightwing will absolutely need 100% use of his shoulders. Him being able to freely rotate them can be the difference between life and death with his style of fighting. Shoulder pads will just hamper that flexibility. I will admit that shoulder pads look badass, but in this one hero’s scenario? Shouldr pads are a no-go.

2. Sleek Arm Braces. Nightwing, while being well recognized as a solo hero, does often work with a team. And on a team, he isn’t the type to huff angrily and say he can do this by himself. Emotionally? Yes, of course. Physically, and in a fight? He takes all the help he can get, with absolutely no would to his pride. When performing his flips and tricks and such, the other partner will grab hold of him by usually his hands or his arms. I’m just going to straight up say: catching someone by their hands is a Bad Idea. You will not believe the speed we travel when we go through the air, and catching by the hands will lead to dislocations and pain. For a few stunts it’s okay, mainly for the visual aspect of a performance. But when it’s life and death combat? Hands are a last ditch effort if you can’t catch someone by the arms. Because that’s what really counts. The forearms. When Dick is fighting with someone, and that other person has the strength to catch him/throw him from a drop or a flip, they will catch him by the forearms. If Dick’s wearing sleek ‘n sexy arm braces, he’s going to slip right out of their grip. I prefer to keep my forearms bare, but in regards to protective armor, the fabric around the arms better have a grip.

3. Extra Fabric. This one is a given. However, I want to get into the specifics. When you’re in the air, momentum is your most powerful ally, and if there’s anything opposing or hindering that momentum, that spells trouble. Extra fabric can sometimes be good, such as around the legs. Not too much, obviously, but wearing loose or baggy pants while fighting with Nightwing’s fighting style works (as long as you can, you know, actually fight in them and not trip over the extra cloth). Around the middle? Nuh-uh, nope. Anything looping around your waist, hips, or rib cage is a liability if it’s not skin tight. The belt that Robin often wears is okay, as long as it’s wrapped pretty tight around him and doesn’t move. For the kind of stunts that Dick pulls off on a daily basis? I don’t think anything but a skintight bodysuit will help. For arms, extra fabric is ~okay~ but not preferable. And anything strapped to his back, as long as it’s securely in place, will actually help his momentum (so his escrima sticks or any other weapon/item you want to put in there is fine). Nothing around the neck, at ALL. That one issue in Batman where Dick wears a scarf is hot as hell, and sort of makes sense because they’re in the desert. But on missions, at the speed Nightwing fights and flies through the air, anything around his neck will choke him. This entire section definitely wasn’t an excuse to say you should just keep Dick in a skintight outfit, nope, not at all.

4. Spandex. While we’re on the subject of skintight outfits, I just want to point something out that isn’t necessarily important or anything. It’s just a general preference for me. I prefer costumes with a little weight on them. The adrenaline rush is intense for some of my more advanced stunts, and those are things that I bet Dick would consider basic. I prefer something with a little substance/weight/texture to it. Nothing too serious, and nothing too restricting, just something to keep me grounded and focused. We all know how much Dick likes being in the air, but I’m willing to bet he also needs a little extra touch to keep his head in the game. So if you’re designing a serious Nightwing suit, not for crack or fun headcanons or anything, I would steer clear from the spandex, gauze, and showy-light-gossamer fabrics. They do provide extra mobility and flexibility, but that’s because they’re one drop away from naked.

5. Joints. Okay this may seem a little contradictory based on the last point, but around the joints, especially hips and shoulders, the protective padding needs to ease up. It’s one of the hardest areas on the body to injure, after all, even for a professional. And second, I know I’m sounding like I’m repeating the obvious, but flexibility is of utmost importance. If the fabric doesn’t bend with Nightwing, then there’s no point. It can’t chafe, it can’t grind against itself, it can’t break. The material around major joints needs to be malleable.

Dos

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about what you can absolutely add to Nightwing’s costume to give it either a little pizzazz, or just your own personal touch.

1. Boots. Yes yes yes, boots are an absolute must! And it’s not just me thinking thigh-high boots are cool. Coming out of a big drop and other major stunts requires rolling on your back and then onto your feet. But Nightwing doesn’t fight with the one-hit-and-done style. (That’s more Jason’s thing. He plants himself like a tree and puts power behind a punch, kinda like Bruce, which is why boots-especially boot soles- are important for them.) Nightwing gets in a punch and flips away, then bounces back and gets in a kick and flips away, then bounces back and gets in another kick and flips away. You see where I’m going with this. Dick is constantly on the move, constantly on the verge of flipping back. The main way he does this is with his feet: landing lightly on the balls of his feet to absorb momentum before using that to hit back. Boots with fricion-specific soles are important, he cannot slide or skid. Also, ones that go higher up aren’t bad either: extra support is always welcome. As long as they don’t cover his knees and allow for ankle flexibility, they’re good to go. They may even help stop ankle dislocation. Anything you want to add to the boots? Go ahead. As long as it’s not gauzy ribbon or something too extra, or something that can easily get caught in something else, it’s good to go. In my performances, I like to cover my shins with something, it can range from simple high socks or performance boots to go with my costume. I particularly like Damian’s long lace up boots, especially in Super Sons. It’s a cute outfit, and it won’t hinder his fighting at all. As long as Dick double knots, he can wear those, and any other variants of boots.

2. Gloves. I’m not actually sure if Dick has ever been called “Fingerstripes” in canon, but I’ve seen it in fanon plenty of times. Regardless, it’s one of my favorite nicknames for him, and it does have a basis. The stripes on his gloves are an awesome artistic choice, and useful too. Assuming they have a different texture than the rest of his gloves, those fingerstripes could help with grip. Grip is one of the most important tools an aerialist can have. I have had grown men look at me with shock when they shake my hand because of my firm grip (and the calluses, ugh). I firmly believe that Dick Grayson has one of the strongest grips in the DC non-meta world, and I bet you he surpasses even a good amount of metas. Having a good, no-slip grip is essential, even if you’re just swinging from the surface for a second, or if the surface is another partner’s hand. Gloves, once again as long as they’re not too restricting, would be awesome with helping with that.

3. Wrist Braces. I said before that Dick can’t have arm braces because of the whole partner-grip thing. But with the amount of force and pressure Dick exerts on his hands on a daily basis, dislocations and sprains should be as common as a bruise. Hell, I’m sitting here typing this and my left wrist is sprained. Fanfic writers, here’s a helpful tip: you can write Dick with a sprained or dislocated or just a plain sore wrist anytime at all, and having him rub his hands with a grimace, rubbing lotion onto them, or doing wrist exercises in his free time is a go-to for if you need anything filler. Or, you know, it could even be part of the plot. Wrist braces help with this, they keep the joints in place and add a little extra stability to his movements. As long as they’re not interfering with wrist mobility, wrist braces are a very very good idea. When you think how long, think about the length of Peter Parker’s handmade web shooters. Long enough to be there, but not immediately noticeable. Also, make sure the material is something cloth, wrap, or gauze based. Anything too hard could scrape against the skin, cause cuts and bruises, and even cut off circulation. Unless it’s armor, it’s not comfortable or easy to do aerial maneuvers with.

4. Back Harness. To be honest, I have no idea what the official name for this piece of equipment even is. But the thing that holds Nightwing’s escrima sticks to his back. The thing that holds Deadpool’s katanas (in the movies, not the comics). The back-strap-harness thingy. That’s a go-for-it when it comes to costumes. Not only does it look badass and hot when it’s on your costume and you draw your weapons from it seamlessly like a boss, it’s practical and doesn’t interfere with your fighting at all. As I said, a majority of Nightwing’s moves rely on momentum. The back harness thingy won’t harm that at all. As long as it’s strapped to your back, unmoving and steady, it stays out of the way and may actually help you with your momentum. Drawing weapons from it is easy and seamless, and one of the quickest moves you can perfect, aside from drawing your weapon from thigh/calf holsters. But as I said before, Dick would probably stick to the back because, once again, momentum.

Okay this got much longer than I thought it would. But regardless, I hope this helps if you’re ever drawing or writing about the Nightwing suit and need specifics. Or hell, if you’re a cosplayer and need some information on how to make an accurate costume, here you go. Now I need to take a breather and chill, because while I considered myself a pretty recreational comic reader and not much of an analyzer, I had no idea how much I picked up about Dick’s individual fighting style and how that fits in with my own aerial experiences.

[whump-town]

Scratch

Here is the Scratch fic. I sincerely love the beginning but the ending makes me want to scream in frustration. However, I simply can not stand to look or think about it any longer so cherish this fic for the first 800 words and pretend the last 400 don’t exist because... it’s just miserable writing and I can’t fix it 

There used to be a point in time when Derek Morgan despised some of the additional duties of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Aaron had been the barrier of that bad news, physically bringing him the sign-up sheet and explaining the general ins and outs of each option. Hotch always does the hostage negotiation class and it’s where he fits best. He was there when Dave, Jason, and Max started the book they teach out of. Being a hot-headed thirty-something Derek wanted to go to bars and hang out with friends in his spare time and he wanted nothing to do with the academy. If anything, he’d like to stay out of that hell-hole as best he can and away from the little savor complex having adrenaline mongers that it holds within its walls. But he’d grown… and more than that he saw things that he can’t forget. Fallacies and stumbles happen when agents aren’t taught by people who know what they’re doing. He’s watched them happen to his family and, suddenly, it didn’t matter all that much if he had to spend his Friday morning with cadets. 

While Aaron works in the lecture halls, Derek spends a lot of time teaching the hand-to-hand combat class down in the academy’s basement. Every few months, when the class sizes diminish as the season dies down and the cadets graduate, Derek hassles them all down there to his thrown of rubber gym mats and the stench of sweat. He’s always met with hesitation and outright dismissals but he gets every last one of them down. Reid laughs him off, anxiously trying to provide every reason under the sun as to why he doesn’t need to be down there. “Hotch doesn’t even put me in the field that much!” and “why do I need that? Why can’t you protect me?” They all present him with similar points. Garcia doesn’t actually ever go in the field, the best taste she gets is going to local precincts. Hotch nods and listens but ultimately promises to get some time in someplace else, running maybe. In Derek’s experience, the only running Hotch does is into fires so that’s obviously not helping too much. 

Derek has wrangled them all down. JJ goes without complaint, she enjoys rough-housing down there with him. He teaches her to protect her left flank, which she has an awful habit of leaving open. Emily will make her way down and raise hell but she’ll listen when he tells her to drop her shoulder more or to shift her weight a certain way. Derek’s trouble comes in Reid and Garcia and, though it’s both surprising yet not, Hotch. He’ll bait the other two down with snacks and the promise of lunch or a dinner date and they’re satisfied if not just putting up with him. Hotch… well, he has to catch him at the end of a seminar and ask him, in front of the students, to do it otherwise Hotch will just glare at him. Which is what he’ll do when Derek asks him in front of the cadets but Hotch has a dash of anxiety and wedged between Derek Morgan standing in his way stopping him from being able to go lock himself in his office and a hoard of cadets, he always cracks. 

He doesn’t do it to torture them (no matter what Reid and Garica think). He does it because...

He remembers the feeling of the cold November breeze drying his sweat to his skin when he heard Hotch’s shout sound through the woods. To find Reid digging his own grave in a dark cemetery hardly able to stand and collapsing right into their arms. The way that Garcia had whimpered and held his hand a little tighter when they walked past the dark stain of her blood sitting right there on her front steps. For the vomit that had crawled up his throat as he ripped the carpet in Hotch’s apartment. Jerking too hard and feeling the blood soaking into his clothes. For the ache of his knees when she cradled Emily on that floor, begging her to stay with him. Her fingers are already cold. For having to listen to JJ’s screams months after she was taken. Finding her in the closed-off rooms sobbing and being reminded all over again what had happened that day and what would have happened if Emily and Hotch hadn’t found her.

He’s just… he’s so tired of seeing them get hurt. 

“Hotch’s going there now.” 

Derek sits up, eyes darting around the car as he realizes if they’re all here Hotch is entirely alone. “Without back-up?” he asks. “That’s crazy. He can’t go in alone like that.” 

Dave shrugs, “well, I’d love to talk him out of it but he’s made his mind up. There’s no stopping him.” Dave meets his eyes through the mirror, face twisted in his own frustration with Aaron’s course of actions, but leaving them unspoken. “We’re right behind him, Morgan. He’ll be fine.” 

Derek averts his gaze to the window, clenching his jaw to ride out the tide of anger boiling over within him. Sometimes he finds that he can’t stand working on this unit. Not with Dave and people like Aaron and Emily. All the hiding and the faking, it’s too much. It’s exhausting. Derek loves Emily, he does but he can’t stand the tiptoeing. The way they have to play every new hand dealt like everything is going to be fine. Like Hotch isn’t going to put himself in danger. Like Reid isn’t too young to be doing the things they ask of him. Like being a family somehow saves the day.

“Be careful,” Dave advises. They don’t know what they’re walking into. Their only way to see insides hasn’t answered their calls. Not Garcia’s and not the three Dave tried to get through. “One of ours is in there,” Dave adds as if they can forget. As if the most pressing thing on any of their minds is finding Hotch. Afraid of what they’ll find but the need to find him regardless of what waits on the other side of that door is stronger. 

Derek goes in first. Reid presses in close, buzzing with his anxiety. The kid can never really get his mind clear but it’s worse when the danger is as clear as it is now. As they stand outside of the door knowing that whatever waits on the other side is entirely out of their control. And that can mean anything. “Ready?” Derek asks, but he’s not waiting for an answer.

The door opens without him needing to force it in but the house is bathed in darkness. Derek’s eyes dart to the only source of light, to his left a desk lamp, but he’s got to clear what’s in front of him. Leave someone else to assess that. He steps into the hall and throws up an arm as something sharp slices through the flesh of his forearm, his only warning the moan of an old floorboard. There’s a tangle of arms, their sight stolen by the way the walls of the hall consume the meager light from the desk.

Derek’s hand throbs as he punches blindly at ribs, finding no resistance, just bone. The other man puffs, caving in as Derek steals the breath from his lungs. The knife glints in the light, as the man turns his wrist but Derek sees it and he smacks it away with the flat of his palm meeting the man’s wrist hard. It’s over just as soon as it started. Reid gets a clear shot from the mouth of the hallway and Derek shoves the other man off and away from him. Staggering quickly to kick the knife further away.

His arm stings as he leans against the wall, moving his gun to throw the beam of his flashlight at his attacker. Finds the blood attached to the white dress-shirt. To the sharp jaw and the worry lines that he knows all too well. “Oh, God.” Derek falls to his knees, arm suddenly forgotten, as he defends himself from what’s left of Hotch’s fight. Slipping in his blood as Hotch tries to force him away, terrified. “Hotch--” the older man lands a solid blow to Derek’s sternum and all Derek sees is red as his vision dances and he struggles to pull in a breath.

It’s just enough time. Too much.

Pulling himself on rapidly numbing arms, Hotch slips in his blood. His adrenaline is working against him as his arms quake beneath him but there is still a threat and he has to eliminate it. Has to stop it from hurting the team. Peter is going to kill them. He knows. He knows it and he’s the only chance they have. His fingers curl around the knife but he can not force his legs to work. Can’t bend his knees. 

“Hotch! Man, it’s me. It’s--”

No. Tears sting his eyes as he thinks about the real Derek Morgan. His friends, his family. About the son, he’s left at home again. Waiting for him to come home. He’s not sure he’s coming back this time but that’s beyond his control. He can save the others. He needs them to live. Crying out as his arm gives out from beneath him, chin hitting the floor hard as his body gives out from beneath him, Hotch knows this is it. He’s got no time left but he won’t let Peter Lewis hurt his team.

The second bullet rips through the air and he feels it lodge itself in his chest. 

Peter is right there.

He doesn’t feel the third.

Derek cries out, his shout ripping his throat as he puts himself between everyone else and Hotch. Pulling the knife from Hotch’s cold limp fingers and throwing it down the hall as far as he can. “Hotch,” he cries, shaking the older man. “Hotch, man, look at me.” He grabs Hotch’s jaw, shaking his head. Trying to draw something sort of reaction out of him but only getting choked, strangled breathes. The wet sound of the blood hitting the back of his throat before it pools in his mouth. Gushing past his lips, trailing down his cheeks like a tear.

“Fucking help me!” Derek cries at the officers loitering-- all caught in the web of confusion. They’d just watched the downed man attack the special agent. They watched him go for the knife again, try to end it. It’d been their bullets that stopped him. They stopped him… “Move!” Derek screams at them. “Move! Do something! I-- I need help!” 

JJ drops down on Hotch’s other side, her hand swiping through the blood on Hotch’s face quickly. Her thumb cleaning it away as quickly as it appears, her other hand coming to cup the side of his head, shushing him gently as she strokes his temple. “It’s okay,” she soothes, calmly. “You’re okay, Aaron. We got Peter Lewis. We got him. You’re okay.”

He fights against them, struggling but ultimately too weak, to pull away from JJ’s warm palm and the hand Derek uses to keep both his arms down. He can’t go anywhere forced to look at them and he’s torn between the way his eyes deceive him. JJ’s hands are cold, they’re always cold. Peter Lewis wouldn’t know that. He wouldn’t know how softly his name rolls off her tongue, quick to slip in Aaron when he doesn’t even know he needs it. How she says it and he can feel his humanity slip right back into place. 

Peter Lewis couldn’t produce that panicked crack in Derek’s voice. The way Derek throws his words like punches. 

He’s not sure what’s real. 

“No, no, no!” Derek pushes at him, sending bolts of pain along his chest but Hotch can’t do it any longer. Each breath pulls more weight across his chest. The cold spreads down his arms, fingers hardened by its bite. He’s done. The confusion-- his vision fading in and out-- but he knows that when he closes his eyes the hands touching him are Derek and JJ. When he opens them again… he doesn’t know what is real.

“Stay with me,” Derek commands but he’s slipping there’s nothing. His hands are covered in blood and he’s torn between leaning into JJ’s palm and being convinced that maybe the voice in his head is right. This is all a trap. But he’s dying and he’d rather do it here with the fictive parts of them in his mind than with whatever is real.  

JJ squeezes his hand, worrying his knuckles with her fingers until he squeezes back. “Just hold my hand,” she encourages. “Just squeeze my hand.” He’s there but he knows his brain will lie if he opens his eyes. She's right there, he tells himself. Right there. “Hotch!” JJ shouts, feeling his hand start to release. She folds her own over his, forcing the grip. “Hotch! Hotch, answer me!”

[issa-me-addy]

It Still Hurts (Peter Parker x Reader)

okay so i saw this gifset here and the quote from the movie [Happy: I thought you had super strength. // Peter: It still hurts. ] and INSPIRATION STRUCK, again i bet this concept has been done before but i cannot hold back i must write about this so here is my sad petey x reader one shot please enjoy 

WARNINGS: angst?, cursing, talk of blood/stitching, crying and generally just a really sad piece i have no reason for this i just couldn’t get the concept out my mind 

Word count: 1725

It was getting late. Very late, even for Peter and you were growing very concerned. He told May that he was going to stay at the Tower with Happy after a simple arms deal bust he was assigned to do with Sam and Bucky out at the shipyard. So of course, the two of you arranged that he’d come in through your fire escape to spend the night instead. To your disbelief though, he was late. 

In general, when the two of you made these kinds of plans he would be in your window at three the latest but it was pushing near four in the morning and you were growing more and more anxious by the second. 

As the clock hit 4:30, Peter’s hand hit your window. 

You opened it up quickly, the dim light of your TV the only thing illuminating your room. He shuffled in, leaning heavily on you, panting and wincing with every rough step towards your bed. 

“What the fuck happened Peter?” You asked, genuinely curious, releasing your hold on his elbow as he sat down on the corner of your bed. His body fell forward as he leaned his forearms onto his knees and allowed his head to swing between his shoulders. 

“I was wearing the old suit. I left the new one in the lab because I coded some new stuff for it and I’ve been putting off this last update. I thought I would be fine since it was an easy mission, plus Wanda came out with us but these guys had some punch to ‘em.” Peter explained as you stood in front of him, slowly moving his head and arms around to check for anything that needed special attention. When you lifted his right arm he winced. 

You nodded, allowing him to continue explaining what went down at the docks. You shuffled through your closet until you found your old med kit, humming softly every now and then to let him know you were still listening. 

The kit had some dust from sitting at the very back of the shelf and not being touched for over a year since Peter had joined forces with the Avengers. With the major suit upgrade and the med team at the tower, he never had to sneak in through your window at night to get patched up anymore, which begged the question that you could no longer hold back. 

“Pete, why didn’t you go back to the tower to get patched up?” You asked. 

“I didn’t want to go to the tower, they would have made me stay there,” he explained. “And I really wanted to see you. I got my ass handed to me, babe. It sucked.” 

You turned on the lamp that sat atop the small table by your bed and sat to Pete’s right, examining the cut just above his right shoulder blade. He was going to need a few stitches. 

“I can see that,” You joked, opening up the kit and prepping your needle. “Take the suit off, I need to clean this up. It’s gonna be at least four stitches.” 

He obliged, hissing as he peeled off the top and letting it drop into his lap. “I always hated stitches.” 

“I know, but it’s gotta happen,” you explained, gently wiping the gash with alcohol and wincing alongside his reactions. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for the blood, for making you do this.” 

You shake your head despite the fact that he has his back to you. “It’s fine,” you reply. “I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t wanna get patched up by the nurse at the tower. She even gives lollipops afterwards.” 

He lets out a sharp chuckle. “Yeah Nurse Katherine’s great at fixing me up, sure, but I really didn’t want to sleep alone tonight.” 

You hum in reply as you prep your needle. “Okay, Pete, I’m gonna start the stitches.” 

Peter nods his head and remembers not to talk while you do these stitches. 

Up until high school, the only stitches you knew were the kind you did to patch up the pits of your t-shirts and to put little flowers in your denim jacket. Then, in your freshman year, your cousin had busted his forearm open at the skatepark and you were the only person in the entire family with a steady hand. That night you learned how to stitch a man up. After you told Peter that story though, he started showing up on your fire escape with cuts, scrapes and bruises galore. 

Although it had been over a year since you’d last done this though, Peter had given you a lot of practice and you were back in your groove very quickly. 

Despite this, you heard soft cries coming from the broad body in front of you. 

“I thought you had super strength,” you attempted to make fun, pulling through your third stitch. 

“It still hurts,” he replied, his voice raspy and low. 

In your heart you knew he wasn’t talking about the stitches. You’ve stitched up a gouge much worse on his calf after he got caught up with a girl who really loved her knives, and he didn’t even complain. That night it was eight stitches and not a peep from him.

You finished the rest of the stitches in silence. After wiping up the rest of the blood smeared on his body, you cleaned up the skin around the suture and placed a large cotton pad atop it, securing that in place and hoping that he didn’t get blood on your bed sheets again. 

You packed away your med pack and grabbed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from the collection of clothes you’d stolen from Peter in the last year or so that you guys have been together. 

“Thank you,” he said, pulling his suit off and climbing into his sweats. 

His eyes were still red and puffy, the only sounds filling the room were random sniffles and the sound of you sorting out the bed for the two of you to sleep. 

“Are you okay, Pete?” You asked, sitting up on the left side of the bed, the comforter pulled up in your lap. 

He pulled the shirt on over his head and pulled the blanket off your lap and settled himself in between your legs, his back pressed up against you, and pulling your arms around his shoulders. 

Before you could piece words together to react, soft sobs filled the room. 

A minute passed and you pulled him closer to you, pressing soft kisses to the crown of his head and running your thumb up and down his forearm. 

His breathing finally slowed. “I miss him so much.” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek thinking of something to say. 

You knew well enough he was talking about Tony. Ever since Tony died, Peter’s been off his game. Even with the Stark tech, he was getting pretty hurt at every single mission. He wasn’t sleeping as much and if you managed to catch him in between tasks, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. 

“I know,” you reply. “I’m sorry, Peter.” 

You can’t think of anything else to do but squeeze him a little tighter. 

“I just-- it still hurts. It’s been months and it still hurts. I miss him. I don’t like the world without Tony Stark. It’s scarier. Even I’m scared all the time. I can’t focus on missions, and that means I’m putting people in danger,” he stops to breathe, pulling your arms a little closer to his chest. “and I’m just so tired of watching good men die at the hands of selfish people.” 

You sit and listen and feel your heart ache at the sight and sound of nothing but a boy in pain, mourning the loss of someone he loved so dearly, and there’s not much else you can do but hold him close, listen and be there for him.

“I know. It’s not fair. There’s nothing fair about it.” 

“I want Tony back.” 

The two of you sit there for a while longer, Pete’s sniffles filling the air. Eventually they stop and he unwraps your arms from around him and the two of you lie down. 

You end up on your back with Peter’s head resting on your chest, slowly breathing in your scent. His arms snake around your middle and you know he’s going to be insistent on holding you like this for the rest of the night, so you try to get comfy. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you rake through them over and over and over again, hoping that he’ll fall asleep soon. 

He doesn’t. 

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” he asked, his voice soft and quiet. 

“I think New York can only be so bad with a guy like Spiderman defending it,” you mutter back, pressing another kiss to his forehead. 

“I don’t think I can fill Mr. Stark’s shoes, y/n.” 

“I think you can. He picked you, Peter.” 

“But he was Iron Man, he was always there when the world needed saving.” 

“I don’t think he would have done what he did if he didn’t think that you could help take care of the world for him.” 

He didn’t respond, but you felt him hold his breath, so you continued. 

“And you’re not alone Pete. He gave you a family with the Avengers and he believed in you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I believe in you.” 

You smoothed his hair back before tangling your fingers with the bunch at the nape of his neck. The two of you lied awake for nearly another hour, not speaking, just holding each other. 

You held this boy in your arms, desperate to protect him from anymore loss and grief. This boy who had a huge heart and nothing but a yearn to protect the ones around him. This boy who was one of the people responsible for saving the universe. 

And Peter held his number one reason for continuing to fight the good fight. That night, as you held him and his chest filled with an ache only you could soothe, he made a promise to himself that he would protect the world with every bit of him, so long as you were in it. 

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 7: Hero - But It’s Not Funny

*a sequel to Realities Little Joke For Infinity* Highly recommend reading that first but it’s not exactly necessary.

Tony has a bad habit of adopting strays. Particularly the stupidly heroic kind that were too reckless and too selfless for their own good. So of course he wasn’t going to just ignore the random teen that literally saved the universe only to disappear into the future. Even if said teen was somewhat dead and the only hero left in a world and time that seriously needed more.

Tony grins as he finally gets the connection to work, making his face appear on the strange future teens laptop; or whatever tech people used in whatever time this kid’s in. Going a bit wide-eyed and wheezing when the first thing he sees is Phantom -in alien PJ’s, because of course the first thing he sees on the kid who showed up in a t-shirt and jeans to an active warzone is pjs- shrieking and jumping a foot off the ground while holding a full pot off coffee; which predictably sends the contents of said coffee pot flying into the air and splattering all over the teens face and floor.

Phantom looks to the screen slowly, with steaming coffee dripping off his chin, hair and eyelashes, “seriously?”.

At that Tony can’t help but bend over laughing. Straightening up and looking at the coffee pot, “what were you even doing walking around with a full coffee pot?”.

“Well I was going to drink it. But now it’s as empty as my wallet”, Phantom looks down at the pot and grumbles, “ya know what? Fuck it. I’m still gonna drink it”, then pointing his finger around and telekinetically making all the droplets of coffee on him and the floor float back into the pot.

Tony watches, a little disgusted, as the kid practically takes a full swing of the previously spilled coffee, shrugs, and sits down by his own screen; feet clearly pulled up onto the chair seat as well and coffee pot cradled between his knees and chest. Tony eyeballs the coffee pot, “you’re really going to drink that huh?”.

Phantom shrugs, “I know what’s on my floor”, looks down at the carpet and shrugs again while muttering, “a Zone damned biohazard of blood n’ ‘plasm that’s what. Oh!”, eyes widening a little, “and a sock with a questionable stain”, looking back to the screen, “‘s not like I can get sick anyway. I could drink this shit outta a radioactive waste barrel and be fine. Prob’ taste like shit tho”.

Tony wheezes both amused and pained, “please don’t kid”, that... that would definitely make him gag.

Phantom chuckles, “don’t intend to”.

The two sit in silence for a bit. Tony taking in the teens appearance. There’s hand-shaped bruising coating his neck, one of his fingers is clearly broken, and there’s a pencil-sized hole going clean through the other hands palm. Phantom doesn’t even seem to care about the state of his body, considering how relaxed he seems and the PJ’s. Plus, no way would Tony be carrying anything, including a full pot of coffee, with his hands in the state Phantom’s are.

Phantom yawns, Tony noticing that he’s missing more than a handful of teeth, before Phantom asks, “so...why’s the past tin can face-timing my laptop?”.

Tony puts on a smile, so it was a laptop. Neat. “future or not, I’ve adopted you as one of my brats. I remember you saying there wasn’t superheroes in your age”, waving his hand around, “no older generation to guide the newer. Well you're getting the older generation now”, shrugging and smiling more genuinely, “plus underroos won’t stop talking about you”. Understatement of the century, Peter was thrilled to meet another teen hero, and wouldn’t stop going on about what powers he might have or if he even has anyone to support him. The latter Tony cares about more.

Phantom wheezes, “whom the fuck is ‘underroos’?”, shaking his head, “so ya wanna be my mentor of sorts and help me blast my foes from the past?”.

Tony smirks and nods, this kid’s humour sure was something else, “exactly. And you met before, the kid? Peter?”. Sure it had been a few months but he couldn’t have seriously just forgotten?

Phantom tilts his head, “the red and blue teenager?”.

Tony grins, “you got it, kid”, eyeing the teen's hands again, “your hands gonna be fine?”.

Phantom waves one hand around, chugging more coffee, “eh don’t worry your metal ass about it. I heal like crazy”, stretching his feet out and resting them on the desk, “I’m just putting it off a while on my hands ‘cause the broken ribs and missing bits of spine are kinda more important ya know?”.

Tony rubs his temples, “Jesus Christ”, just how much damage can this teen sustain? That kind of injury should kill a person.

Phantom laughs, probably at Tony’s pained expression, “don’t worry about that either! Not like I can die twice! Haha!”.

Tony looks back to the screen at that, feeling a bit more serious, “yeah, Thanos said something like that. That you were dead but alive. And you confirmed it. What did he even mean?”.

Phantom purses his lips, “well I could explain but that also could mess with the time stream and could result in some weird immoral science crap”. Tony doesn’t get a chance to comment on that as Phantom turns his head to the side and whines exaggeratedly at the thin air, opening his mouth as wide as looks physically possible, maybe even past that, “tiiiiiiime dadddddddyyyyyyy, will this break the time stream? Your problem child has a proooooobleeeeeeem”.

Tony wheezes into his hands, “Christ”, and stares dumbfounded as a giant hourglass with purple sand comes out of nowhere and smacks the teen in the face, making Phantom fall out of the chair with a thud.

Phantom groans and begins laughing, righting himself and spinning the hourglass around, pointing the bottom of it at the screen, it reading ‘you’re fine’. Tony is so not reading into that, kid had someone like Strange in his corner. Phantom sits back down, lifting up the hourglass like it’s a weight, “Kay Kay Kay, so I’m a halfa right? Unique creature, that’s what I am. A fucked up little science project gone wrong, or right. Your choice. My folks screwed up in the lab and boom!”, he sticks his limbs out comically before righting himself and catching the coffee pot he effectively tossed in the air, “a whack-a-mole of electricity and a wormhole decided to stop my tiny little heart. Also restarted it too though! So it’s cool”, tilting his head, “wait... didn’t I already explain this?”.

Tony sighs, “sort of. We were in the middle of a war”.

Phantom quirks an eyebrow, “your point? That was, like, the bloody third one I’ve been in”, rolling his hand around, “first there was the High Ghost King, his fifty-thousand odd skeletons, and objects of near-unlimited power. The alternate future where an evil me single-handedly annihilated humanity, talk about traumatising having to fight yourself literally”, tilting his head, “and no clue if the plant guy with his army of mind-controlled people and plants or the sleep guy with his army of Walkers, counted as ‘wars’. And eh!”, snapping his fingers, “there was that guy I stole the Reality Gauntlet from! He took over the planet and turned people into clowns and shit. So that might be big enough to count as a war, even if it was just him versus me. But then the tornado guy caused storms all over the planet too so would that count then too?”, shrugging, “eh whatever. I’m sticking with three. Pariah would have eventually destroyed the Zone, which woulda ended the universe. Dan was actively on his way to ending all life in the universe, probably all death too. And grape guy, Thanos, was about to annihilate half the life in the universe which honestly would just end all life eventually... maybe”.

Tony stares at the kid before wheezing some more and falling backwards, “Christ”, righting himself and his chair, “there is something seriously wrong with your life. Like, seriously wrong”. Apparently the future was a freaking mess and fixing its crap was all on one random teen's shoulders. All because the kid died, which somehow gave him superpowers, and decided to make something good out of that death. Talk about unfair. And messed up. Really messed up. At least Tony had his team and they had each other, “please tell me you have some kind of support?”.

Phantom grins and nods eagerly, “got my guy in the chair techy, he destroyed a sataliget once! My rich activist goth, she sued one of my enemies into oblivion. And a ghost hunter who only sometimes tries to murder me and got a nanobot supersuit running through her veins; she can lowkey kick my ass if I hold back enough to avoid accidentally killing the living”, wagging his finger at the screen and getting really close, “us dead fucks are borderline indestructible immortals, halfas even more so”, leaning back and shrugging, “can still die, or fade it’s called for the spookies, though. Well, most can anyway. Timedaddy’s straight-up immortal. But if they died then, well, then the universe would literally implode from the time-stream collapsing”, and makes a little explosion sound and motion with his hands. Oh fuck, the kid was really just a damn kid. And from the sounds of it, his entire support was three teenagers. Ah Hell. Oh and some time being, ghost?, that just left him to his own devices.

Tony shakes his head, “you know what? That doesn’t actually make me feel any better”.

Phantom shrugs, drinks, swishes the coffee around, “don’t know what to tell you, man, my entire existence is pretty fucked up. My archenemy is my uncle, wants to adopt me, and gave me his inheritance. My girlfriend has a solid murder boner for me. My parents get giddy at the idea of dissecting me and are actually worse about that the odd time they’ve been successful. The kids’ at school think I’m their personal punching bag. The government would love to shoot me full of missiles and bombs. Pretty sure my sis is just using me for her research paper on ghost psychology or whatever. And my friendships are pretty much based on the three of us just being really weird”.

Tony groans, this kid probably needed more help and support that literally any other teen or hero. “ClockPops is great though. We play chess”,

Tony blinks, mentally pausing, “you... play chess? Seriously?”, this kid seemed to have more issues sitting still than Peter did. Tony finds it hard to believe he can sit through even half a game of chess.

Phantom nods and grins, “yup. Switched the pieces out for shot-glasses once, it was great. One of my teachers is cool too. He crossdressed and pretended to be his own sister to get me to try harder on a test; it worked better than it had any right to”.

Tony blinks and breathes, “your life”, shaking his head because it sounded like the future was just pure insanity, “well now I’m here and while I’m a bit reckless and a recovering alcoholic, I’m not insane”.

Phantom chuckles, “I’ll probably prove to be a bit much for you then. I’d have to be stupid to not think I’m not at least marginally nuts. Nowhere near frootloopy but eh”.

Tony sighs, being self-aware enough -or just not giving enough of a damn- to recognise that was both impressive and depressing. Impressively depressing. “A few of us Avengers are trained doctors and psychologists outside of being experienced heroes. So kid? You’ve got all of us. At least for verbal advice. Strange already went and basically confirmed that paying you a visit wasn’t a smart idea”.

Phantom snorts and rolls his eyes, sipping a bit more before staring down the pot at the small amount left. Speaking into the pot, “oh yeah, I can just imagine all the time problems that could cause. I’m surprised this is okay”.

Tony can’t help chuckling at the slightly silly image, though he’s not sure why the kid doesn’t just drink what’s left, savouring it maybe? “Same. Strange looked at me like he was questioning my sanity. He’s probably going to pester you about the Clock guy you keep mentioning”, grumbling to the side, “I just hope Loki will keep his trickster mitts off you”. Because fuck, they’d probably get on like fire and more fire. Which yeah, slightly horrifying mental image. Probably inevitable though. Loki was already impressed, amused, and interested by Phantom and literally everything the teen did after showing up. Seriously though, who’s first thought when fighting giant spaceships with mouths and other horrifying shit, is to turn it into bouncy balls and worms??? And a smoothie for a reward? For effectively saving the universe? Kid was a trickster, dabbled in death kind of literally, and ‘gave precisely zero fucks’. Loki would have a field day and probably be a horrid influence. Though thinking of it, Phantom might be a bad influence on Loki. Loki generally had reasons for anything beyond mild messing with people. Phantom seemed more likely to just go buck wild purely because he could. Even if he seemingly had a heart of gold and more self-sacrificial bones in his body than actual bones. Seemed like his entire world/time belittled and beat the shit out of him, and yet he gladly got dissected and lost chunks of his freaking spine for them. At least he had the power to back it up.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at mist, or something, leaving the kid’s mouth before Phantom goes wide-eyed and Tony jerks as an actual literal swear-on-every-ironsuit-and-the-entire-tower cartoonish rocket smashes apart what he’s assuming is-was a window; sending glass flying everywhere... and Phantom flying off-screen, the coffee pot going up in the air and sounding like it smashed apart on the ground.

Tony can practically hear the glare in Phantom’s voice, “hey! You spilled my damn coffee!”, while a robot blasts into the room, breaking more glass and bits of wood from the looks of it.

The robot pauses, seems to frown apologetically before shrugging, “apologies whelp, but it is no matter! You won’t need such things after I skin you!“. Tony chokes and gags a little at that. “Also-”, pointing to where Phantom probably is, “-that was practically empty”. Tony then stares as Phantom comes back in screen -looking all black and white- only for the robot to shoot a missile at him immediately, Phantom just sort of shrugs and lets the missile hit him in the face. This kid seriously really didn’t give a damn about his own well being.

And not even seconds later Peter walks in out of the blue, face lighting up as he notices the screen and probably Phantom’s very noticeable self on it, and dashes over. Obviously noticing Phantom’s current situation, “oh Phantom! Kick his butt!”.

Phantom does a silly thumbs up at the screen and immediately gets stabbed in the shoulder. Tony watches in slight disbelief at the kid looking at the knife, saying, “oh! You got a new knife! Shit is the handle engraved?!?”. And the robot actually stops and replies with a wide grin, “it was a valentines gift from Ember! Impressive right?”.

Tony and Peter both blink at the fight effectively stopping as Phantom pulls out the knife and looks it over, seeming impressed, “actually yeah”, pointing almost aggressively at the robot, “you got her something too right? You’re fucking horrible for that man”.

The robot rolls Its eyes, how metal is moving that organically Tony has no clue. “Of course whelp, those drum sticks you can sing into”. Phantom facepalms and Peter actually shakes his head in disappointment. Though Tony agrees, that was awful. But who talks with their enemy -who wants to skin them for peat's sake!- about presents?

Phantom makes a tsk tsk sound, “you dumbass, she got you a sick-ass knife and you got her a knick-knack? Seriously?”, Phantom walks off-screen, the two watching as what they’re assuming is cash flys over to the robot and Phantom returns on screen, “go by some flowers to make up for that crappy present. And for the love of everything, don’t get roses”, waving his hand around, “that’s so cliche. Go with tulips and forget-me-nots”.

The robot inspects the cash before flying off-screen, presumably back out through the window It destroyed, “I will have your pelt next time, whelp!”.

Phantom chuckles, shouting back, “sure you will, Skulkie! Ghost Zones greatest hunter”. Tony and Peter can feel the sarcasm in that. “Also! No you don’t have to ask! An engraved knife would be a wicked Christmas Truce present!”. Tony sighs when a ball or something slams into Phantom’s stomach and sends him flying off-screen.

Peter leaning towards the camera, “woah! You okay?”.

Phantom’s laughter echoes horribly, “right as rain! Mind you, it’s not actually raining”, righting himself and pulling himself up into the previously knocked over chair, “don't mind Skulker, he’s a poacher and I’m rare. Practically one of a kind actually. A poachers dream prize. His girlfriend has a mind-controlling guitar and occasionally attempts at world domination”. A ghost-shaped guitar floats on-screen, Phantom grabbing it, “she gives awesome presents though”, and gives the guitar a good couple strums.

Peter’s eyes go wide, “you can play the guitar?!?”, tilting his head and asking what is in Tony’s opinion a more important question, “wait, your enemies buy you presents?”, tilting his head back, “oh man that’s awesome”. Tony just shakes his head with a smile, teenagers.

Phantom grins and strums some more before the guitar floats off-screen, “all my enemies do”, shrugging, “for the Christmas Truce and my death-day anyway. But that’s normal. A ghost culture thing. Even the prison warden guy, whose got special torture weapons set aside just for little ol’ me, buys me some kind of present. Heck! Even the eyeballs do! And they’ve repeatedly tried to assassinate me”.

Tony blinks, “kid, that makes no sense. But I’m glad they’re at least occasionally nice to you”. Hell knows Phantom needs someone to be nice to him.

Peter tilts his head, “what even is a ‘death-day’? Sounds dark”.

“Oh nothing special, just the day I died. Like a birthday! But for death! A real dead-ringer of a holiday!”, and laughs loudly before rolling his eyes at Tony, waving his hand around, “eh, I’m kinda their king so be kinda a dick move to not give me gifts on literally the two biggest holidays”.

Peter practically shrieks, “WHAT! You’re a king! Oh that is so cool”. Tony blinks, “you did mention something about being the guardian of death and Earth”.

Phantom laughs some more and finger-guns while winking at Peter, “yup! Very important, much power”, and grins stupidly before pointing to the air above his head; a green floating crown bursting to ‘life’ with green mist or something wafting off, followed by a black cape with a flaming white collar and large flaming green skulls pinning it closed with a shadowy chain.

Peter cheers immediately, then adding, “Loki would love this!”. Tony points at him, “no. I want to keep that one as far away as possible for as long as possible”.

Phantom snickers, “I have chronic bad luck, so don’t count on that working out for you. Spidey probably has better tastes than you though, Ironass”.

Tony shakes his head with a smile, “you like making up names for people huh?”.

Phantom grins meanly, “it pisses people off. Which makes them easier to hit”, and holds up a fist, smacking a hand on his bicep.

Tony can’t help but laugh at that, “you got a point kid!”, though that was stupid reckless, and effectively confirmed him being tricky. One of Tony’s tech toys starts beeping so she moves to check it out. Peter taking his place in the chair. Glancing back at Tony before looking back to the screen, “hey I’ve got a question, teen to teen. What’s being a hero to you? Why do you do it? It just... it seems like your only suffering for it. Waaaaay more than normal. And not making stuff much better for it”.

Phantom hums, spinning around in the chair, “a hero's not afraid to give their life, and anything worth doing is worth getting hurt for. I do it so others will not suffer. That is all. It doesn’t matter if things change or not. If there’s still unnecessary violence and pain, then it is still a hero's place to grab their fists around it and pulverise it to Hell and back. So long as cruelty exists I will be there to stand against it. With a smile on my face and a laugh in my heart and Core. Because there is no greater joy, no greater choice, no greater path, than self-sacrifice for the sake of another. Regardless who they are, what they are. Good or bad. Young or old. And whether they support you, or not”, Phantom nods, puts his hands behind his head, cape bunching up, and looks to the side, “and maybe someday things will change. I doubt it, but who knows. But if things do, if that kind of future is on the horizon, then I think I’ll rest. Until then, I’ll be here. Doing what I do and suffering immeasurably for it. Until the world doesn’t need ‘heroes’ anymore. Till it doesn’t need me anymore”, looking back at the screen, Tony having walked back over slowly though the kid doesn’t pay him any mind, “so I guess, being a hero to me is being the embodiment of a brighter future. To absorb the suffering of the world”, sticking a finger up, “like a paper towel!”. Tony chokes at that a little; though the kids' sudden seriousness and introspection was just as startling as last time.

Tony shakes his head, “you make it sound like you’re immortal, kid. Also, that’s what a team’s for, to help share the load. The burden. Sure your ideals are noble and probably needed, but you can’t help anyone if you destroy yourself”.

Phantom smiles but something about it seems almost... sad. “In a way, I am. A ghost can not die and a human can not fade. A ghost ceases to exist when they fade and a human when they die. Yet I can do neither. So that raises the question, what is ‘death’ for a halfa? An idea? An ideal? A reality? Or just pointless conjecture. And besides, for a ghost to fade they must satiate their Obsession. Be satisfied with the fulfilment of their existence”, pointing to his chest, “and my Obsession? Protection. To protect is a physical and mental need for me. And it will never be satisfied till there’s nothing left needing protection. And it is thus that I will always be here”, shrugging and chuckling, “likely anyway”.

Tony blinks, that... that changed a lot actually. It also explained a lot. This wasn’t some kid playing hero, or even an experienced hero just doing what’s right and their job. This wasn’t someone stuck in a bad way and doing what needed to be done purely because no one else could. This wasn’t someone trying to do good to make up for their sorted past. This was someone wise beyond their years, with little to no regard for themselves, and a living -half-living- embodiment of the word ‘hero’. Watching the teen turn his head at someone -likely his mom- shouting that supper was ready. There was a rocket-powered fistfight minutes ago and his parents’ didn’t even check on him. Christ that was depressing. But it also made him want to help this kid out all the more.

Phantom turns back to the screen, “whelp that’s my queue then I guess. And let me guess? This-” gesturing at the screen, “-is gonna become a thing? Which totally cool, little warning next time. And keep this mind, walking the straight and narrow takes more time than I got. I will steal, mildly harm, trick, and lie, as I see fit”.

Tony rolls his eyes, he’d expect no different from a kid basically left up to their own devices, “we’re all guilty of that, kid”. Phantom just laughs as the screen goes dark.

Tony leans back, well fuck, he wasn’t prepared for the kid to have shit that bad. And the King situation definitely threw him through a loop. He’ll have to talk to Thor -not Loki, dear God not Loki- about that. Being a hero and a king.

Regardless, they’re gonna help the weird spooky future kid out. And Peter absolutely liked Phantom, which hopefully wouldn’t be a bad thing. Hopefully. (And it wasn’t, if you ignored Peter carrying out more than a few pranks on Phantom’s behalf).

End.

[wherearemyglassesbro]

Mha style quirks for h/etalia characters :) shhh....SHHH...quiet down...SHHH this is a secret

Francis: I think he’d have a quirk similar to Monoma’s where he can copy and use quirks as he fights after touching someone. He can use only one at a time but can ‘store’ five for 5 minutes each. I like to think of him pretending to be hurt in order to touch whoever he’s sparring with *cougharthurcough* to get their quirk. It’s kinda cheating but who cares! The only classmates that can really beat him are those who have quirks where they can shoot things at him or where they can fight from afar to do damage that way otherwise he’ll use their powers against them :0 the worst thing that could happen to him though is that he runs out of time with all of his ‘borrowed’ quirks and now he has nothing to fight with at all...uh oh. If a teammate lets him touch them then he’s fine :)

Alfred: Uhhh Al can hulk out kinda but his quick is called ‘rodeo’ cause he becomes like...a bull. Like his upper half gets huge and he just fuckin bulldozes people down with no mercy. He holds back in training just cause he doesn’t want to hurt his friends cause he WILL cry if he does lmao but if it were a real fight he could easily knock someone out. He can carry his classmates with ease, lift heavy things without breaking a sweat, that kind of stuff! Pretty much the ultimate himbo of his class :) but he isn’t stupid he’s very good at coming up with strategies. You better go see him play football. It almost isn’t fair that he even gets to play cause he’s so strong but he tones it down to ‘play fair’...as fair as it can be :)

Laura: Laura is pretty much made of rubber! If she jumps off of a high surface she’ll bounce, if you hit her she’ll bounce back, if you shoot her she bullet will bounce back too but leave a bruise. She is definitely hero material! She can easily save people from crumbling buildings or from things falling on them cause she absorbs the blow. Her speed and punches arent fantastic but when whoever she’s fighting with gets tired after trying to punch her over and over, she can win with a few well aimed blows! Her weakness is heat for sure, she’ll start to melt kinda which is pretty painful so if fire is involved, she keeps her distance and works on crowd control

Vlad: (tw blood) Vlad can manipulate blood and wounds, which is a very scary quirk to have. If you don’t have wounds he can’t really do much other than lower or raise your blood pressure which is scary either way it if you have a cut or scrape he can manipulate it to turn into a huge gash that’ll bleed out quick. At the same time, he’s good to have on your team cause he can close wounds too and stop bleeding from occurring, it goes both ways. The only downside is that he has to be within a few feet of the person he wants to damage/heal so he has to get a bit too close for comfort. With his friends, he’s very kind and nurturing though!!! If you got a paper cut he’d fix it right up for you!! At the same time, he’s also gotten in trouble for widening other people’s paper cuts or skinned knees on purpose just cause he didn’t like them lmao

Arthur: Art is also dangerous, his quirk is that he can shoot acid out of glands on his wrists. (Yes Spider-Man is my inspiration here). He can shoot it a few meters! And it’s potent too like it’ll give you chemical burns if it touches you. He keeps his wrists bandaged up at all times unless he’s training or fighting just in case acid leaks out by accident. He’d feel terrible if he hurt someone like that, he did it to his mum once and flipped out even though it wasn’t a big deal to her. Art’s little brother Peter made him thick, fabric cuffs for his wrists with minion fabric...he wears them when his family comes to visit. When he fights or spars with classmates he is always annoyed when Francis borrows his quirk cause he’s terrified that he’ll hurt someone by accident. Art himself took a long time to effectively figure his quirk out cause it’s so strange, he knows that that frog slurper has no clue how to use it!!! Ugh!

Michelle: Michelle can essentially melt herself or parts of herself down into a liquidy sludge. She can move around as the sludge too. She can go through cracks in the ground, under doors, through the tiniest crack in a wall to get into a building, through vents, you name it! Her quirk is very helpful!! If an enemy stepped on her while she was in goop form, they’d slip and fall! Or if she gloop-ified her hand and stuck it in their eyes or face they’d be blinded and she could fight like that!! Her quirk isn’t really something she can use for hand to hand fighting but she’s still a useful teammate!! A scary looking side effect of her quirk is when she cries, her tears are just goopy green sludge :0 yuck. I mean- not yuck!!! Cool!! Haaa...

Antonio: Toni is pretty much Mrs Incredible. He’s stretchy and go a big ass so. Uh huh. He is a fantastic fighter, he knows his abilities well and the way he maneuvers himself around in whatever shape he’s taking always looks so practiced even if he’s literally a triangle or a parachute. He tangles enemies in his arms or sucker punches them from meters away (uh huh we’re using meters) and gosh dang!! He’s a hard hitter!! He is excited to be a hero :) he’s also a fantastic friend cause he can reach high places, unlock your car from the inside by sticking his hand in there, he can be a trampoline, dude whatever. His favorite pass time is tapping Arthurs shoulder in the hall from alllll the way down the hall from him with his long elastic arms lol. The amount of pranks this guy can pull is unlimited

Lovino: Lovino inhereted laser eyes from his father. His laser eyes are super powerful, he can cut through metal like cars or a person if he wanted to. He has the potential to be a great hero he’s just afraid of losing his freedom cause as a hero, the public eye is always on you. He joined the hero course with his brother because of the pressure from his grandpa so he’s very cold to his classmates cause he doesn’t really want to be there. Of course there’s a few that grow on him and he makes friends...shocker. Eventually, and you can already see it starting, he’ll have scars around his eyes from his quirk. His grandfather has it and his father had it too. The heat his quirk generates burns his own skin when he uses it so he tries not to use it outside of training and fighting. He wears sunglasses inside so people don’t look at his eyes...He’s a bit self concious about it even though he has very beautiful eyes :(

Feli: Feli did not inherently laser eyes instead he inhereted hypnotism. His quirk is weak compared to Lovi’s but as he’s gotten older, he’s strengthened himself a lot. If you look him in the eyes, he can make you do what he wants for a few minutes. He can only control two people at a time and he has to be close to them to do it but wowie, it can be scary to fight against him cause either you have to close your eyes or you just can’t look at him while you fight. Feli isn’t much of a fighter himself but if he can make others do it, he feels better about it lmao. He also wears sunglasses inside to avoid accidentally hypnotizing someone, he’d feel pretty bad about that

Roma: ^^^ Feli and Lovi’s grandpa who raised them. He was part of an original European pro-hero group. He, and his sons, all have eye related powers. Roma has laser vison, which Lovi inhereted. His other sons had some variant of laser vision amd X-ray vision. Feli’s hypnotizing eyes are a mix of his fathers eye related quirk and his mother’s hypnotizing quirk. Roma trained Lovi a lot but became frustrated with his grandson’s temper so he focused more on Feli. He loves his boys very much because they’re all he has left. All three of his sons are deceased and they didn’t have kids. Feli and Lovi’s dad was the eldest and his wife fled after his death. Roma is always smiling for his boys and the press but inside, he is still grieving. His laser vison is very powerful but it’s given him scars around his eyes, which itll eventually do for Lovi too. Lovi’s power is strong like his grandpas but Roma believes that his grandson is lazy and that he just isn’t training hard enough.

Yao: An original pro-hero who teaches young heroes now. He is more of a college level teacher but he does stop in to highschool level hero academies to substitute teach. His quirk is manipulating the dead. He can bring back three ghosts at a time and get them to use their quirks in a fight however, Yao becomes somewhat powerless as he controls the ghosts and admittedly, it takes a lot out of him to fight. But he’s still insanely popular cause watching him fight is mesmerizing, his skill and technique is so clean and practiced! He does demonstrations at hero academies to encourage students to be confident in their abilities as well as to never hold back in a real fight.

Gilbert: I envision Gil and Lud having quirks similar to Tenya and Tensei Iida. Gilbert has engines in his arms, making his punches bone breakingly hard omfg. He is Ludwig’s biggest fan, he’s always pushing him to be better, to train harder to fight harder. He’s always proud of him no matter what. They’re only 3 years apart and Ludwig is like a foot taller than him but he’s still a big brother!!!! Gil is very reckless so a hero career may not be something attainable for him just because he doesn’t listen and he often makes split second decisions that can/will get himself and others hurt. The plan is to start a hero trio group with Fran and Toni once they graduate but again, who knows how that’ll go

Ludwig: Like his brother, Lud also has engines but his are in his legs, making him insanely fast. He isn’t a fan of fighting hand to hand so he’s more likely to kick the shit out of someone or run around grabbing people to get them out of a dangerous area. Ludwig is only in the hero course because of his brother and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he may not want to be a hero. That’ll change once he gets more experience in the field though! He’s never had so many friends before now, being surrounded by so many wanna-be-heroes encourages him more than anything! As he grows, he gets stronger and TALLER than most of his friends which is a shock to everyone. Ah yes...a growth spurt. Congrats nerd.

[junosteellovebot]

(Sooooo you know that thing I said I was going to write? Well. I wrote it. Enjoy.)

Juno didn’t know what to think. He knew what he was supposed to be feeling, but the problem was he didn’t feel...anything. Just numbness. Maybe it would sink in eventually, but right now the mantra in his head saying Nureyev is gone Nureyev is gone just made him think that he should have expected it. He should have seen it coming. Hell, he probably even deserved it.

***

He was back in his mom’s apartment, except it wasn’t. It was kind of a mix of all the different places he had lived, with the living room couch from his Hyperion place and the kitchen from the Carte Blanche and a layout that definitely did not match its real life counterpart. Everything was a bit fuzzy. The scenery changed around him periodically. Standard dream activity.

Sarah was there, yelling at him, saying all the things he had replayed in his mind over and over again. He knew this conversation by heart, because it was probably the worst one he’d ever had. He wished he could forget it.

Juno felt the dread rising in him, the familiar sense of wrongness, the sick feeling that rapidly turned into panic as his mind pieced together what she was saying. He was at the door, knocking at first, then pounding, then banging on it with both fists. “Ben! Benten, open this door!” He wasn’t really controlling what he was doing. It was all reflex, instinct; he had relived this so many times. It just felt like he was a marionette, his limbs being pulled by the strings. 

Sarah tossed him the keys, smiled an awful smile, then she disappeared as if she had never been there at all. Juno shoved the key into the lock, wrenched open the door, and scrambled into the bedroom. 

It never felt real, not even the first time. Benzaiten couldn’t be dead because he was all Juno had. Benzaiten couldn’t be dead because he was Juno’s twin brother and they were two halves of the same soul and had always been. Benzaiten couldn’t be dead because if he was, Juno would have felt it. Benzaiten couldn’t be dead because if he was, Juno should have been dead with him. He should have been there, he should have saved him-

There were a million reasons Benten couldn’t be dead, but none of them mattered because he was. He was laying there, eyes closed, limbs sprawled out across the floor. Maybe Juno could convince himself that he was only sleeping, except for all the blood. It was everywhere, there was so much of it. He couldn’t even tell where the wound was.

Juno was certain that his heart completely stopped in that moment. Everything seemed to stop, even time itself. Juno’s thoughts screamed in his head, but everything else was completely silent.

He was pretty sure he whispered “No,” but it was probably something more along the lines of “No no nonononono it’s not it can’t be oh shit oh shit no no no no-” and then time started again and Juno was running toward his brother and checking his pulse and putting his arms around him and shaking him but he wouldn’t wake up and the realization crashed down on his head like a bucket of ice water and it all came out in one agonized scream of “BEN-”

But he wasn’t there anymore. Everything was dark, then he was tingly all over, then he was lurched awake in his bed. Juno was breathing hard, his heart beating furiously in his chest. He was drenched in sweat, but he was shivering- no, not shivering, just shaking. He gripped the blanket in one hand and buried his face in the other, taking a few shaky breaths. His cheeks were wet with tears he didn’t remember crying. He could still hear his scream reverberating through the walls.

Shit.

“Come on, Steel,” he whispered to himself, but his choked-up voice wasn’t very reassuring. “Come on. This is, like, the five-hundredth time this has happened.” It wasn’t especially comforting. He had nightmares about that day a lot, and they got even worse when he was feeling bad. It was safe to say it had not been the best week for him.

Juno laid back down and stared at the ceiling. He took deep breaths and kept as still as he could for a few moments. Eventually his heart rate slowed, his breathing evened, and he managed to calm himself down. He was pretty practiced at that.

He was almost ready to go back to sleep when there was a knock at his door. He sighed and cursed under his breath. Apparently everyone had heard him scream bloody murder in the dead of night. This was going to be a really fun conversation.

The knock came again. “Juno, darling, is everything all right?” It was Buddy, of course, her voice muffled from the other side of the door. 

Crossing his fingers this would be the easy way out, he replied, “Uh, yup. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” 

Buddy sighed audibly. “Seeing as how your voice was about two octaves too high, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that was a lie the size of Jupiter.”

Juno rubbed his forehead, still not moving. “Really, Buddy, it’s fine. I’m going back to sleep.”

“Unless you want me to get Jet to force this door open-”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” With a groan, he kicked off the covers and headed towards the door to let her in. It slid open, revealing Buddy Aurinko with silk pajamas on, her red hair in front of her face as always, and her ‘concerned’ expression that was evolving into solely a ‘concerned about Juno’ expression. It was one she made often. He bit his lip, looking away from her. “Come in, I guess.” He was distinctly aware that 1) it was obvious he had been crying, and 2) he just looked like shit in general. Juno was still getting used to the whole vulnerability thing. It felt a bit uncomfortable.

She accepted his invitation and stepped inside. The door slid shut behind her. Juno climbed back onto his bed and sat cross-legged, looking down at his lap, waiting for the inevitable lecture. Buddy sat on the edge of the bed and just looked at him for a minute or two. Her eyes were soft, filled with something that wasn’t quite pity. Was it sympathy? Understanding? Maybe it was just sorrow. 

Juno waited and waited, squirming a little bit. After what seemed like forever, she said simply, “Well?”

Hyper-aware that his chin was still quivering slightly, he summoned all the attitude he could and replied, “Well what?”

Buddy gave him a look. “Juno.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know! What do you want me to say!?” It sounded defensive even to him, and a tad bit petulant.

She sighed again and leaned back on her elbows. “Just...talk it out with me, darling. Heaven knows I’ve had my share of nightmares as well.”

Juno stared at his knee, picking at a phantom scab. He never talked about his dreams with people, not even Rita. Mostly because he didn’t want to think about them. There was something about Buddy, though, that made you feel like you could tell her anything and not get judged for it. And this wouldn’t be the first time he’d shared something personal with her. If nothing else, it would make her go away faster and then he could go back to sleep and wake up the next day and forget anything had happened.

He swallowed, not looking up. “I dunno. It was just...a dream. I’ve had it loads of times before.” Juno drummed his fingers on the back of his neck, trying to figure out what to say next. He could feel Buddy’s eyes on him, but she waited patiently for him to continue. He cleared his throat in an effort to maintain some semblance of dignity. “It was...uh. Something that happened to me a while ago. A pretty bad experience.” He winced. “The worst, actually.”

Juno glanced up at Buddy, who gave him a sad, knowing smile. He wasn’t exactly sure how much she knew about his past. She’d had Jet stalk him for months, and had almost definitely done extensive research on him before letting him onto the crew, so it was entirely possible she knew precisely what he was talking about. Then again, Rita had known more about Nureyev than Buddy had. Either was possible.

Ben would have liked Nureyev, Juno thought, for probably the five-hundredth time. He’d told Nureyev that, too. The past few times he’d had this particular nightmare, it was Peter who had woken him up and held him and calmed him down. It was Peter who had listened to him ramble about his brother in a teary, sleep-deprived haze. About Ben’s smile and mischievous eyes and the way he danced like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the planet’s surface. Juno never talked about Ben like that, with anyone. But somehow in the middle of the night, clinging to Nureyev, with all the love and pain stored up inside of him for so long, the tears spilled down his face and the words spilled out of his mouth.

For one reason or another, everything Juno had been feeling chose that minute to overflow, and he burst into tears.

He scrunched his eyes shut and covered his face with his hands, and didn’t flinch away when Buddy put an arm around his shaking shoulders. “Shhh, darling,” she said, leaning her forehead against the top of his head. “I know, I know.”

She rocked him back and forth a little, humming softly. Juno leaned into her and just let himself cry.

“I keep-” he let out a sob, shaking his head back and forth. “I keep...losing people.” He sniffed, looking up at her with watery eyes. “I don’t know how to stop losing people. I don’t know how to stop...missing people who are already gone.”

Juno looked at her expectantly, desperate for some kind of answer. Buddy rubbed his back, staring at the wall for a second before turning back to him. 

“Well, I can tell you that you don’t really ever stop missing them. You carry them with you, thinking about them without dwelling on it.” She paused for a moment, and looked at him seriously. “There are some things that we don’t get over, Juno. There are some things we can’t move past. Instead of trying to forget, we learn how to live with them.” There was a faraway look in Buddy’s eyes, something almost wistful. Juno had a feeling Buddy’s life before being a professional criminal had some melancholy bits to it. Maybe he would ask her about it, one day.

He let out something that was equally a chuckle and a sob. “You’d think...I would’ve gotten the hang of it, after fifteen years.”

Buddy smiled at him. “We never stop growing, Juno. I should know. I am a great deal older than you.”

“I might just take your advice, o wise and ancient soul.” This time it was more of a laugh.

“Oh, you’d better. I’ll have you know that my advice is absolutely superior to anyone else’s in the galaxy.” 

“Hey, no arguments from me.” Juno smiled at her, and Buddy smiled back, and she gave his shoulder a squeeze before sliding off the bed.

“Goodnight, Juno,” she said.

“Yeah, ‘night.” he reached over to turn out his lamp, and paused. “And Buddy?”

“Hmm?” She turned back.

“Thanks.”

***

It was now five days and sixteen hours since Nureyev had left. It took everything Juno had not to count it down to the minutes. He wanted to hate Nureyev for it and he wanted to beat himself up for not seeing it coming but he couldn’t do either. The worst thing about it was that he didn’t know why. One minute they were asleep next to each other, then there was only Juno, alone. They should have known better than to land for a full night to refuel. They should have known better than to give Nureyev the code to the vault where their stolen items were. They should have known better they should have known better-

(Everything came down to I should have known better than to trust Nureyev. But it had been nice, for a while, to think that he could.)

***

Juno had several bouts of fitful sleep for the rest of the night. He didn’t plunge back into the nightmare, which was a relief. At somewhere around five o’clock in the morning, he thought to hell with it and rolled out of bed. It was time to stop kidding himself; sleep wasn’t coming for him again.

After getting dressed and such, he wandered around the ‘Blanche’s halls. Following Nureyev’s disappearance, the crew had been at a bit of a loss for how to proceed. Rita thought they should explore other ways of obtaining the Curemother, Vespa campaigned for catching up to ‘that sorry bastard’ and ‘lighting his lungs on fire’, however that worked. Jet was unsurprisingly impartial. Buddy had decided that they were going to lay low for a little bit while she came up with a new plan for what their next move should be. Everyone was understandably in low spirits.

Juno shivered, running a finger along the wall beside him. It was chilly, he probably should have brought a coat. He passed through the kitchen and the rec area and was surprised to see light flooding in from the garage. He stepped inside to find Jet hunched over the hood of the Ruby 7, fiddling with pieces of machinery Juno couldn’t have named with a gun to his head. At least Nureyev had the decency to leave Ruby, he thought glumly.

“Hey, Big Guy,” he said, leaning back against the side of the car. “What are you doing in here so early?”

“Hello Juno,” Jet replied pleasantly, not looking up. “I often have trouble sleeping. I have found that working on the Ruby 7 is an adequate alternative.” He wiped his hands on a towel and turned to Juno. “And you?”

He shrugged. “Same, I guess. Couldn’t sleep.” Juno cringed a little bit as he was reminded that Jet and the others had heard his scream as well. Maybe everyone would just pretend it had never happened. Oh, well. A little embarrassment never killed anyone. 

Still. He wasn’t really in the mood for a psychoanalysis, and Jet had a tendency to drop poignant wisdom no matter how early in the day it was. “I’m going to, ah, get something to eat. Catch ya later.” He was about to walk away, but Jet frowned at him.

“It is too cold to be without a jacket,” Jet said in his matter-of-fact tone. “The temperature system has been malfunctioning periodically ever since the crash landing.”

Juno looked down at his oversized tie-dyed t-shirt and was about to jokingly ask what was wrong with it when Jet draped his brown trench coat over Juno’s shoulders. It was, safe to say, ginormous, and absolutely swallowed him. Juno gave him a look. Jet just smiled at him and returned to his work.

Juno sighed, tugged the coat tighter around him, and exited the garage. The coat was heavy and nearly dragged on the floor, but it was the good kind of weight. Comforting instead of constraining. And he couldn’t help but feel a little ray of happiness light up inside him. Usually Rita was the only one who liked him enough to loan him clothes.

***

Everyone else on the crew had been so furious with Nuryev they could barely say his name. Part of this seemed to be an act of support on Juno’s behalf, but Juno wasn’t furious. The only thing he felt was a dull ache of sadness, and a defeated sense that it would have happened sooner or later. It was hard to convince himself the betrayal wasn’t a direct response to the abandoned hotel room in Hyperion City. The thing was, he didn’t even think of it as a ‘betrayal’. Nureyev was a thief. Changing his loyalties was an inherent part of who he was, wasn’t it? Juno was the one who had been kidding himself that they could have a real future.

***

Juno had been strolling leisurely, but upon hearing several crashing sounds and yelps coming from the kitchen, he sped up to a power-walk. He entered to find Rita perched on a chair surrounded by piles of upended pots and pans. He paused in the doorway, mid-flinch. “Do I even want to know?” he asked.

“Oh!” Rita turned to him, a guilty smile on her face. “Hi there, Mistah Steel. I woke up super early, and I heard you and Mistah Jet talking, and thought, I could surprise everyone by making breakfast for them! Well, not the Captain, I guess, but, ya know. It’s just...everyone’s been so down lately. I thought I could cheer us all up.” Juno deflated a little bit, and Rita noticed, quickly changing the subject. “Then I realized. I’ve never actually cooked anything on this ship before! And I couldn’t reach the cabinets. And...well...I wasn’t sure what to cook, either.” She donned a serious expression. “This is quite a conundrum I’m having, boss.” 

Juno chuckled, making his way to her. “I think the first step would be to get off of that chair.”

“Yes, sir!” Rita hopped to the floor with a salute. 

Juno shook his head with a smile. He stacked the pots and pans and shoved them back in their places, keeping out the ones they would need. He instructed Rita to fetch pancake batter ingredients from the fridge, and they got to work. 

Juno was quite a good cook. It was one of the many skills he had had to teach himself as a kid. Sarah had come home from work late most nights, and she never had much patience for housework. That had all been up to the twins.

Juno and Ben both liked to cook, though they had different means of approaching it. Juno always followed the recipe word-for-word, while Benten preferred freehanding it. There had been more than a few petty squabbles over that, most of which ended in both boys covered in flour and laughing so hard they cried. Cooking was one of the things they did together, no matter how their days had gone or how big of an argument they were in the middle of. It was a way of releasing the tension, of having an excuse to talk things out with each other. And if one of them wasn’t ready to talk yet, the conversation would be about how melted the butter should be or whether it would be better to use a whisk or a spoon. It was a safe place, for both of them.

Juno thought about that, as he helped Rita fix the pancakes and laughed when she accidentally flipped one to the other side of the kitchen. He thought about what Ben would say to all of this. He wasn’t sure if it helped or made it worse, but he did it all the same.

Rita wasn’t as subtle as Jet. She didn’t bring up his nightmare, but Juno caught her glancing at him with concern several times. She actually knew the full story, and had helped him through periods like this before. He just wished he could tell her he was okay without actually mentioning it.

When he was putting the last batch of pancakes on the griddle, Rita came up and hugged him from behind. He put his hands over hers and squeezed. “Rita?” he asked, after a minute.

“Sorry, boss,” she replied, releasing him. “Just…” she shrugged. “You know I’m here, right?”

“Yeah.” Juno took a deep breath. “Yeah, Rita, I do. Thanks.”

“Great!” She beamed at him. “Okay, Mistah Steel. I’ll go get the others. Let’s EAT!”

He grinned and followed her lead.

***

Juno missed Nureyev. He missed him a whole lot. Sometimes he wondered what his reason had been, or how long he had been planning his escape. Mostly he just missed him, though.

***

The rest of the day went on mostly normal. Juno didn’t see much of the crew; they gave him space, which he appreciated. They weren’t avoiding him, but they weren’t suffocating him, either. It was a pretty good balance. 

It was fairly uneventful. After the breakfast hijinks, they worked on the Blanche’s repairs (it had been operative yet prone to small malfunctions ever since they left the beach,) did menial tasks, and brainstormed their next move. Not much was accomplished. 

That night, Juno tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling for an indeterminable amount of time. Part of him wanted to go to sleep, because he was tired. The other part of him was a little bit terrified that he would have the nightmare again, or possibly a different nightmare even worse than that one. Ah, the duality.

At some point he knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep, at least not right then. He made the decision to put on a bathrobe and slippers and head to the kitchen for something to drink.

Juno expected the kitchen to be dark and empty, but as he approached it, he saw that the light was on. He walked in to find Vespa seated at the table with her legs pulled under her, glowering intently at what seemed to be an empty bowl. 

“Uh, Vespa?” he asked, walking over to the fridge. “Everything okay?”

Breaking out of her concentration, she jumped, startled, and turned her sour expression to him. “What are you doing here, Steel?”

“Just getting something to drink,” he said truthfully, digging through the fridge until he found a bottle of some kind of juice. Or maybe it was a dangerous chemical. He was too sleep deprived to tell the difference.

“Interrupting my only hour of peace is what you’re doing,” she huffed under her breath. Juno ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood to fight with Vespa right now. 

“Decided to go nocturnal?” he asked, reaching for a cup from a cabinet and pouring in his juice slash chemical slash gasoline.

“Just couldn’t sleep,” she replied defensively. “Besides, you never know what could happen. It’s good to have at least one person awake and alert.” She mumbled something about persuading Buddy to coordinate nightly watch routines, and Juno elected to ignore that as well.

“Couldn’t sleep either,” he said with a yawn, taking a sip of his drink and sitting down at the table. Phew. Just juice. He squinted at her bowl, which she was still regarding with suspicion. “Has that bowl done something to offend you?”

Vespa shot him a dubious glance and folded her arms together on the table, resting her chin on them. She still stared at the bowl out of the corner of her eye. After a moment’s hesitation and a fair bit of squirming, she explained, “It’s crawling with roaches. At least,” she rolled her eyes, “That’s what I see. I was almost positive that they weren’t real, but I wasn’t about to eat cereal with any possibility of there also being bugs in it.” 

“That’s...understandable.” Juno gulped down some more of the juice. He never knew quite what to say to Vespa in regards to her hallucinations. Especially since she tended to get angry no matter what he said or how carefully thought-through his words were. He didn’t know if she wanted sympathy or encouragement or for the subject to be ignored completely. 

There was something about her right then, though. Face half hidden in her elbow, guarded expression wary of everything around her, dark bags under her eyes. She seemed so...vulnerable. Like a caged animal. Juno felt a sudden urge to break the ice between them. He was tired of all the tension, tired of all the mistrust. Maybe it was a night for answers. 

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked slowly.

Vespa’s eyebrows drew together. “Sure. Whatever.”

Juno took a deep breath in, and said, “Why do you hate me so much?”

This was clearly not a question she had been expecting. She grunted, and leaned back in her chair. “Well. For one, you’re an insufferable smartass.”

Juno laughed. “You got me there.” He was about to venture into more lighthearted conversation, but stopped as he noticed how conflicted Vespa’s face was, like she was debating with herself whether or not to say something. He decided not to push her, but waited patiently and sipped his juice.

Vespa fidgeted with her sleeve, looking off to the side. “There’s also…” she hesitated, and cleared her throat. “There’s another reason.”

“Yeah?” Juno asked in what he hoped was an encouraging yet acceptably non-pushy tone.

She mumbled something to herself that sounded a lot like to hell with it and squeezed her eyes shut, balling her hands into fists. “I have...hallucinations. Of you. A lot.” Vespa spoke in a rush, like she was trying to get it over with. “You say a lot of not very pleasant things in them. Mostly about me. I’m no good at differentiating between the real you and the in-my-head you.” She shook her head, twice, then opened her eyes. “Roaches are gone,” she whispered. She wouldn’t look at Juno.

Juno’s knuckles were white from clutching his cup. He didn’t have a suitable response to that. “Oh,” he said, a bit lamely. He glanced down at his hands. “Vespa, I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged.

They sat there in silence for a minute or so. Neither of them quite knew what to say. Then, Vespa blurted out, “Am I crazy?”

“Of course not,” Juno said immediately, and it didn’t sound like he was trying to reassure her. It just sounded like the truth. 

She nodded thoughtfully, and Juno got the thought he had just passed some kind of test. They weren’t fixed; it would take more than exhaustion and a little bit of honesty to do that. But maybe they were a little less distant than they had been ten minutes ago. He gave her a small smile and said the only thing he could think of. “Want some cereal?”

Vespa chuckled, and Juno grinned. It was possible that was the first time he had made her laugh. “Sure, Steel.”

He retrieved the cereal box, milk, and a spoon, and set them next to her bowl. She shook in the cereal and poured in the milk and munched on it while Juno scavenged for a bagel, or anything bagel-like.

They ate together quietly, just two criminals in a spaceship kitchen at four in the morning. There was calm between them, for the first time. Maybe it made both of them a little braver than normal, because when Vespa was nearing the end of her bowl of cereal, she asked, “Who’s Ben?”

Juno looked up from his bagel, taken aback. “What did you say?”

“It was a simple question, Steel.” She set her spoon in the bowl and crossed her arms.

Juno was quiet for a minute. Vespa was the last person he had expected to go through this with. In fact, he had assumed she would aggressively ignore it. He had just been starting to take his mind off the nightmare, too. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t go all asshole on me. It’s your turn now.” 

Juno looked to the side, uncomfortable. He wasn’t getting out of this. “Someone I used to know,” he mumbled simply.

He glanced at her, and Vespa held his gaze. Her expression was unreadable. “You do know that I could skewer you right now, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, actually. Got the nine-inch scar to prove it.” It was a low blow, and he knew it.

Vespa gave him a hard look. “Juno.”

Juno blinked. He was almost positive that Vespa had never called him by his first name before. 

Something Buddy had said the day before popped into his head. We never stop growing, Juno. Maybe she was right. Maybe he still had a lot of growing to do. 

Maybe he could do it without Nureyev. Maybe it was time to let go.

“He was my twin brother.” The words were tumbling out before Juno had a chance to think. “Benzaiten Steel- Ben.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Vespa replied.

Juno nodded. “Yeah. He’s been gone, for a while now.”

Vespa seemed to understand, but she pressed forward. “What happened to him?”

“He, uh.” Juno looked down. It was hard to say out loud. “He got shot. By our mom.”

Vespa raised her eyebrows. “Damn.” She took a breath. “That is fucked up, Steel.”

“Don’t I know it,” he agreed softly.

He thought she was done, but Vespa asked, “Did he look like you?”

Juno chuckled, surprising himself. “Yeah. You could tell us apart pretty easy; different hairstyles, very different fashion senses. But, yeah. We looked a lot alike.”

Vespa pushed away her cereal bowl and leaned her elbows on the table. “Tell me about him,” she said.

And he did. 

Juno didn’t know how long they sat there at the kitchen table, but it felt like a place removed from time. He talked, and talked, and Vespa listened. He told her about the big things and the little things, things he barely remembered and things he knew by heart. He told her about all the different parts to his brother, the important ones and the silly ones, though he reasoned that nothing about a person was silly if it made them who they were.

When he had finally run out of words, Vespa held out her hand over the kitchen table. “Truce?” she asked quietly.

Juno smiled at her, and shook her hand. “Truce.”

When he finally made it back to his quarters, it was five o’clock and had officially been twenty-four hours since he had last slept. He kicked off his slippers and hung up his bathrobe and frowned when he spotted a steaming mug of...something, sitting on his nightstand. It had definitely not been there when he had left.

It was partially obscuring a tiny note beneath it. Juno slid it out and saw that it was written in Jet’s handwriting.

I know you aren’t fond of tea, it read, but this helps. Trust me.

When had Jet had the time to slip a mug of tea into his room? How had Jet gotten into his room at all? 

It didn’t particularly matter to Juno right that second. “Thanks, Big Guy,” he whispered to himself.

That night, he went right to sleep and had no dreams at all.

[ampmiscfiles]

To Us You’re Worth Everything: Chapter 10

Start from the beginning

Peter let out a breath as he slid the window shut and hurried down the wall. He wasn't sure where he would go from here. He had no money and no real destination.

All he knew was that he couldn't stay.

Making his way down the dark alley, he paused as his Spider Sense hummed lowly at the back of his mind. He scanned the area before continuing towards the opening. The close he got, the more his Spider Sense tingled.

Prepping for anything, Peter reached the mouth of the alley, only to find his way blocked as a large figure moved in front of him.

"A little late out, isn't it kid?" The man's deep voice filled Peter's ears.

Tightening the hold on his bag's strap, Peter narrowed his eyes.

"Why don't we have a little chat about curfews."

The man leered as he moved into the alley, causing Peter to retreat. The shadows of the alley masked the man's features, causing a sense of calm to wash over him.

If the man's face was masked, so was his.

Luring the man further back, Peter let his bag slip off his back. The soft thud of it hitting the ground seemed louder than it should have in the late hour.

"There's a good boy. Now, I think you deserve a punishment for being out."

As the man reached out for him, Peter moved. Grabbing the man's arm, he slammed him against the building wall, pushing his arm into the man's neck. The man gasped, clawing at Peter's arm in an attempt to get free.

Peter glared as he pushed harder.

"Listen to me you pervert." Peter sneered. "This moment has been coming for you for a long time I feel."

He looked hard into what he could make out of the man's face, then everything went black.

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

Pietro shot up in bed as Wanda's scream filled his ears. Stumbling out of bed, he ran to the bathroom, flinging open the door to find Wanda on the floor, looking at her arms with wide eyes.

Following her eye line, Pietro froze.

Wanda's arms were littered with claw marks and bruises. Her face had several marks running down her left cheek. If they could have bled, hers and face would have been covered in it.

"Pietro!" Wanda cried, tears running down her face as she held her arms up.

Pietro ignored the sting to his knees as he hit the floor and pulled her into his arms. He didn't bother to check himself, knowing the marks would be on him as well.

"What's happening!"

The twins looked up as Clint and Natasha burst into the room, the other Avengers behind them. The group gasped as they took in the bloodless scratches littering thier skin.

Frowning, Natasha knelt down, looking over their arms and faces.

"They're healing, but they still look bad."

"Meaning Peter looked even worse at some point." Clint sighed.

"Didn't you do a check on the group home?" Steve frowned, looking at Tony. "Is it possible they weren't as honest about the kids there as they seemed?"

"I highly doubt it. I had FRIDAY do a serious search of any word about the place." Tony shook his head. "None of the kids have ever been reported with having anything other than normal bruises kids get."

Steve's frown turned to where Wanda and Pietro were being looked over by Natasha, and now Clint.

"The kids dealt with enough. He doesn't need a bully."

"Don't worry, Steve." Pepper said, looking at him. "I'm going to go check things out."

"Maybe I should go with you." Sam said. "I might be able to get Peter to talk."

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

The sun hadn't long been up as Pepper, Sam drove out towards the group home Peter had been sent to.

"I don't suppose you have a cover story for showing up unannounced?" Sam asked, looking over at her.

"I'm adopting him. I think I can ask to visit with him."

"Yeah, but it's pretty early for a drop in."

Pepper frowned. Sam was right. It was definitely going to look strange. By the time they had left the shaken Maximoff twins, the marks had started to fade. Peter wouldn't have any by the time they got there.

"Maybe we should wait another hour." Pepper sighed. "I'm just worried."

"It's ok Pepper, we all are. I left Steve busting bags in the gym."

"Yeah, Tony retreated to his lab when I told him I was leaving."

"Nat and Clint have the twins. I just hope more damage hasn't been done. The kids already fragile." Sam shook his head. "Even if he's willing to talk, it's going to take some serious sessions to really help him. Of course, being around Wanda and Pietro might help. It also won't hurt that there are soulmates around the compound."

"Well, we should probably all work on being more active in showing our care. Natasha and Clint have been to busy for Nat to be with Steve or Clint to talk about Laura and the kids. Peter needs examples of loving couples and friends." Pepper nodded.

"You wouldn't even know they had soulmates with how things have been lately." Sam shook his head. "Once we have the kid though, it needs to be obvious."

The two fell silent, both lost in their own thoughts and worried for the young spider-kid they were about to take in.

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

Wanda watched her arms as the last of the marks faded. Looking over at Pietro, she could once again see his clear skin as well. Waking up and going to the bathroom to find them had been terrifying.

What was happening with Peter?

The really strange thing though, was the fact she hadn't.....felt anything. There hadn't been any strong emotions from Peter when it happened. Not any she had felt anyway.

While she loved Natasha and Clint, she desperately wished they give her and Pietro some time alone.

"Come on, Wanda." Pietro smiled, holding out his hand to her. "Let's go for a little walk to calm down."

Wanda smiled. They always did know what the other was thinking.

"Are you sure you want to be alone right now?" Clint asked, his brow furrowed.

"Yeah. It's ok." Wanda smiled before following her brother out the room.

Clint watched them go with a frown.

"They'll be fine." Natasha said, patting him on the shoulder. "Now, let's go have a better look at that file."

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

"You didn't feel anything either, did you?" Pietro asked once they were out of earshot of the two spies.

"No. No emotions considering the damage."

"We shouldn't have let Pepper and Sam leave us behind." Pietro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We should have went with them. We're not doing all we should be."

"We can't move to fast. We've all seen how he reacts. Our mate needs a lot of patience and care. I want to cuddle him as much as you, but he's not ready for that." Wanda sniffled at the admission.

"No, but we can definitely be more attentive to him." Pietro said, face hardening in determination. "We'll pay attention to every detail. The more we can pick up on things that trigger or calm him, the better we can help him. He needs to understand nothing he does could push us away."

Wanda smiled, agreeing with her brother, before taking his hand and walking briskly.

"Where are we going?" Pietro asked, raising his eyebrow.

"I just realized how we can really help." Wanda smirked, a wicked idea unfolding in her head.

The two stopped outside of Clint's room before walking in.

"What are we doing in here?"

"We're going to find an outfit for you, then we're going to Natasha's for me." Wanda said, rummaging through Clint's closet.

"What?" Pietro shouted.

"Hush!" Wanda huffed, pulling out a duffle bag and carefully looking through it. "Clint and Nat keep disguises here sometimes. Throw this on."

Pietro looked as a short, brown wig and a case of contacts were thrown at him.

"Go put those in and that on. I'm gonna go check Nat's room."

"What is happening?"

"Just get ready and trust me. I promise you'll understand once we're on our way."

Sighing, Pietro took his items and followed Wanda out the room.

As Pietro went to the bathroom to put in his lenses, Wanda smirked as she made her own change in Natasha's room.

They hadn't been able to do much for Peter yet, but things were about to change.

Peter may have spent a good portion of his life believing he wasn't worth anyone's time, but that wasn't going to be the case anymore. They would make sure he understood just how important and loved he actually was.

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

"This is disgusting." Clint growled, slamming another report down on the desk. "You'd think this kid was the devil incarnate with all this paper work."

Natasha sighed as she ran her hand down her face.

While it was true that they themselves hadn't had any interactions with Peter, she had studied Spider-Man closely. People didn't generally fool her. Sure, it would have been nice to have access to his face, but the boy's body language, speech patterns and tones told her a lot about him. Despite his act of confidence behind the mask, there was also insecurity there.

An honest insecurity.

One that didn't come from being the type of person described in these reports.

Peter Parker was a child in desperate need of help, and what type of heroes would they be if they didn't give it to him?

"Listen to this."

Clint's voice cut through her thoughts.

"It comes with great sadness that we will no longer be able to house Peter. After several months of disrespectful behavior, we thought things were getting better. We were very pleased with his progress. It seemed having a firm hand with him was working."

"I bet I can guess what type of 'firm hand' they had." Clint glared as he continued reading.

"We were devastated to find that Peter was being physically abusive to our son. As the older of the two by four years, we have taught our son to be gentle with those younger. It has become apparent though that Peter has been taken advantage of our son's sweet nature, and has been abusing him. There have been cases of bruises on our son's arms that look to be sustained from being shoved around."

"I'd be more willing to bet they were from being shoved off."

"We cannot allow this type of violence against our child to continue."

Clint huffed as he pushed the paper away from him.

"This one isn't any better." Natasha frowned. "It's just a list of things they claim about him."

"Violent. Disrespectful. Ungrateful. Doesn't follow directions. Doesn't play well with other children. Shows no signs of remorse for actions."

"It goes on."

"This is ridiculous. If this kid was really this bad, he should have some sort of juvenile record. With all the accounts of 'violence', there's no way at least one of these families didn't call the cops." Clint said, leaning back in his chair. "There's nothing in here but lists of places he's lived and letters from the families. If he had spent any time with the cops, there would be a record of it here."

"This agency should be shut down. Peter's file wasn't the only one this full. How many of the others were full of crap like this?" Natasha scoffed, shoving all her papers into the folder.

"I'm done sifting through Peter's file. It's just getting redundant. None of these things were read, obviously. If they had actually looked at any of this, Peter would have been sent for some type of evaluation. He clearly was not."

"I just wanna go home and hug my kids, Nat." Clint sighed.

"Once we get Peter back, I'll take care of things here. Maybe Steve and I could bring the twins and Peter out for a weekend."

"I'll never turn down some free labor." Clint grinned as Natasha punched him in the arm.

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

Steve let out a heavy breath as he fell onto the bench. He was drenched in sweat and only mildly relieved of his frustrations about Peter.

Wanda and Pietro had looked horrible, and considering the time they found them, Peter's wounds had probably been far worse when he first received them.

Who was hurting this poor kid now?

Tony was positive the group home was a good place, but kids could be sneaky and mean.

While the workers may genuinely care about the kids there, it didn't mean there weren't bullies creeping around. It didn't matter that Peter was Spider-Man. The kid was far to protective of his alter ego to risk exposure by over defending himself. Pushing someone off him was one thing, but actually fighting back was another.

While Steve had never disliked children, he could honestly say he had never had one pull at his heart strings like Peter Parker.

He just wanted to see the young hero smiling.

He knew Wanda and Pietro would bend over backwards to see him happy, and the rest of the team would be there to support them.

Standing up, he made his way to the showers. He wasn't sure what Pepper and Sam would find when they arrived at the home, so he wanted to make sure he was ready if they needed him.

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

"Wow." Sam said, stepping out of the car. "Tony really did good by the kid."

The group home was a medium size building, but the outside was clean and it was located in a good part of town.

"We wanted to make sure he was well taken care of until we got him back." Pepper nodded, making her way towards the doors.

She was reaching her hand out to the knob when the door opened to reveal two officers and a rather frazzled looking woman.

"We'll get the word out and let you know as soon as we find him." The officer said, giving the woman an encouraging smile.

"We've never had this happen before!" The woman sniffled. "I'm very worried about him."

"We'll find him."

The two officers nodded before turning to see Sam and Pepper waiting at the door. They both blinked in surprise before stumbling over apologies for taking up the doorway and compliments to them both.

It took a few minutes, but finally the officers left, leaving Pepper, Sam and the worker alone.

"I-I'm sorry Ms. Potts." The woman frowned. "This might now be a good time for you to visit."

"I've come to check on Peter. I just had this feeling I needed to see him."

The woman looked at her a moment before bursting into tears.

"We-we don't know where he is!" she cried. "He went to bed last night and was gone this morning! John and Alex, his roommates, said they didn't hear anything!"

Pepper froze as the woman continued to cry and Sam moved to comfort her.

Peter was gone?

He left?

He had nowhere to go!

Was he even capable of surviving on the streets on his own? He was only 15 and even though they hadn't really discussed his abilities, she couldn't help but wonder if his metabolism operated a quickly as Steve's. If it did, there would be no way Peter could survive. He was already malnourished as it was.

"We don't even know how he got out!"

Pepper heard the woman's voice come back.

"He was on the top floor! He couldn't have gone out the window! That means he managed to get past all of us and leave!"

Sam gave Pepper a look over the top of the woman's head.

Peter had definitely went out the window.

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

"You guys are here?" Steve asked, walking into the kitchen to see Natasha and Clint.

"Where else would we be?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow with a grin.

"I just saw one of our cars leaving. Thought it might be one or both of you." Steve shrugged. "Where are Wanda and Pietro? I thought they'd be with you."

The three looked at each other a moment before dropping everything and running towards the garage.

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

"Tony."

"Hey Pep. Is Spider-Baby ok?" Tony asked, sitting up from where he had been bent over the gauntlet he had been upgrading.

"We have a problem, Tony." Pepper's calm but strained voice came through the speaker.

"I don't like problems, Pep." Tony frowned.

"Peter's gone, Tony!" Pepper's voice cracked. "We have no idea where he's gone. The police were here when we arrived. They're already out looking for him."

Tony sighed, running his hand down his face.

He'd be lying if he said he was surprised. Peter had looked like he had wanted to bolt as soon as he was aware of where he was. He had, in fact. Who knows where he would have ran if he hadn't run into Steve. Not that it would have really been an issue. FRIDAY knew everything.

Still, he had paid attention, and prepared.

"It's ok, Pep." Tony said, standing up and stretching. "I'm on it."

"What do you mean you're 'on it'?"

"Just trust me. I'll have the kid back before you know it."

Before she could reply, FRIDAY disconnected the call.

Tony pulled out his phone as he made his way towards his car, taking note of the fact that two vehicles, besides the one Pepper and Sam had taken, were gone.

Shrugging, Tony slid behind the wheel of his Audi and turned the key.

"FRI?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Activate Charlotte's Web protocol."

"Finding location....location found. Coordinates displayed on screen."

Tony looked at the hologram from his phone with a sigh. He was destroying the kid's trust in him at every turn.

He had been worried after his little conversation with Peter and the twins in his office, making sure to install a GPS in the lining of the boy's bag.

"Alright, FRIDAY, let's go get our little spider."

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

"Are you planning on telling me where we're going.....and why you feel the need to drive so fast!" Pietro shouted as Wanda weaved in and out of traffic.

"Are you kidding me? You, of all people, are questioning me about speed?"

"Excuse you! When I speed, I'm running and in control! Not in the passenger seat of a metal deathtrap with a maniac behind the wheel!"

"It's only a deathtrap if you don't know what you're doing." Wanda huffed.

"You don't know what you're doing! You've driven absolutely nowhere in this city! We've only driven on tracks around the compound!"

"And yet I'm doing it so naturally." she smiled.

"You almost hit that car back there!"

"They should stay in their own lane then!"

"They were!"

Wanda scoffed as she continued taking them through traffic.

"Where are we even going? And why do we need these stupid disguises?"

"Because my magic can only do so much. I can't alter security footage."

"Security footage?"

Wanda bit her lip as their destination came into view.

"Wanda, what are we doing?"

"We're......going to get in trouble with the others."

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

"How could we lose them?" Clint groaned.

"She's a better driver in the city than I thought she'd be." Steve shrugged from the back seat.

Natasha smirked as Clint threw his hands up next to her.

"Well, I think we're wasting our time now."

"I know Natasha Romanoff is not giving up." Clint gasped.

"If I thought they needed me, I wouldn't. They obviously know where they're going, and they know what's at stake."

"But-"

"We just gotta trust them to make good choices." Steve smiled, patting Clint on the shoulder.

The car was silent for a bit before Steve finally spoke.

"I know this is going to sound more like something Clint would ask than myself but,"

Clint turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow while Natasha looked at him through the rearview mirror.

"Have either of you ever wondered why Wanda never made the car she was driving fly?"

Clint gasped.

[buckleyirondad]

7. I’ve Got You “Support”

After pulling over at a motel, for the night, the team undergoes strange experiences, that seems to be out to claim the lives of the people closest to them - Tony is sure, that Peter is sleepy soundly, throughout the ordeal.

Warning: Characters are controlled, by a supernatural force, which makes them suicidal. 

Inspired by the episode 'Motel California,' from season three of MTV's Teen Wolf.

AO3 Link

Tony agreed that the team deserved a ‘work retreat,’ after the year they’d had, a break where those, who wanted to, could spend a week without a care in the world, doing nothing.

Peter wanted to go too, so they waited patiently until he was on spring break before heading off.

Tony cursed himself, wishing he’d planned the trip, instead of leaving it to Steve. The Captain was old fashioned, he wanted to go on a road trip, and refused to fly.

A twelve-hour drive to Chicago didn’t sound too bad, but Tony completely forgot, during the planning stage that the kid, suffered tremendous motion sickness when it came to traveling in cars. In Tony’s defense, he only forgot, because he’d traveled, by car, a far distance, with Peter, once, and then refused to ever do it again. He’d rather fly, with the kid, to keep both their sanities in check.

After six years, and five of those spent mourning Peter, it briefly slipped Tony’s mind.

On field trips, when they traveled across the country on the bus, Peter took super soldier travel sickness tablets and would doze off, either with his head rested against Ned or Michelle’s shoulder. Tony had seen the pictures, they were ridiculously adorable.

Even though they were in traveling in a fancy minibus, that had televisions and air-con, it didn’t stop Peter’s ailment.

The kid, caught up in his excitement, hadn’t forgotten to take his pills, and May had been called into work, to cover a shift, so it passed her mind too when she bid goodbye to a sleepy Peter.

At the end of the day, all three of them messed up. No one was to blame.

They were six hours into the journey when Tony realized his mistake.

They pulled over for dinner, at a Burger King, and as soon as Peter stepped outside, he collapsed to his knees and brought up his breakfast, Tony was surprised that he didn’t bring up a lung.

Long story short, they had to make an unscheduled pitstop at the closest motel, for the night. Steve found it on the map, and they drove half an hour. Peter spent the entire journey, with his head rested against Tony’s arm, silently groaning about his luck.

They parked up, on the roadside.

Clint peered out the window, “Wow.” He snorted a chuckle, “Definitely not five stars.”

“It’s only for one night.” Rhodey teased, throwing a backpack at him, “You’re a spy, I bet you’ve seen worse.”

Natasha got up, swinging her overnight bag onto her shoulder, “We once to a motel that didn’t even have beds, like, we slept on cardboard, but you know—”

Clint leaped up, “It was comfy cardboard.”

“I guess.” Natasha gave a half shrug, “I could hear Clint’s snoring through a wall though.”

“I do not snore.”

Tony waited until everyone was off the bus, before helping Peter up, “Come on, kiddo.” He grabbed Peter’s listless arm, hanging it over his shoulders, “One step, at a time.”

Peter slurred, “I’ve got it, Mr. Stark.”

They made it out, onto the road, “This is what happens when you don’t get your beauty sleep.”

“Uh.” He leaned his head back on Tony’s arm, “Shut up.”

“Okie Dokie.”

Sam folded his arms and looked over, with a smirk, “Such a lightweight.”

Natasha slapped his arm, and stared him down, with her infamous glare.

Steve jogged over, coming back from the kiosk, holding room keys in his hand, “Here.” He handed Tony his credit card back, “Thanks.”

Tony pocketed it, “No trouble.”

“There were only five rooms left for tonight.” Steve held up the keys, “So, we’re gonna have to share.”

Clint inclined his head, “Ugh.”

Bruce spoke up, “That works out, there is ten of us.”

Wanda beelines for Natasha, taking her hand and standing aside from the others.

Clint held up his hand, over his head, “I choose Sam.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, “What?”

Clint skidded over to him, “You’re the only one who doesn’t snore.”

Sam nodded, “Oh, okay.”

Steve spun on his heel, “Buck?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t care, as long as it has walls.”

Tony held up his head, motioning to Peter, “I guess I’ll take this one, then.”

That left Rhodey, with Bruce, neither of them seemed to mind that.

Everybody started hurrying to their rooms, Clint and Sam’s room was right behind them, so they headed straight in, Natasha and Wanda rushed up a set of metallic stairs, to the upper floor of rooms.  

Rhodey and Bruce had a trek, to the opposite side of the lot.

Tony took the last key from Steve, and stepped aside, reading the number, “Ugh, stairs.” He groaned, turning to the same side Natasha and Wanda had sprinted off to, “Pete, can I carry you?”

Peter shook his head,, “No way.”

“Walking it is, then.” They slowed made their way up the stairs, Tony turned back to Steve and Bucky who were waiting behind, “Sorry, we’re taking it slow.”

Steve smiled, “We don’t mind.”

Tony pushed Peter’s back, helping him up the last step, “Next time we do something let this..” He said, to Steve, “We’re flying, not driving.”

Steve held out his hands, “Driving is more of an adventure.”

Tony fumbled with the key, unlocking the door, “Not for a kid who gets motion sickness.”

Bucky barked a laugh, “Isn’t he Spider-Man?”

“I’m generalizing here.” Tony explained, “He doesn’t do well in cars.”

Bucky frowned, “Ah, okay.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make sense, but Pete never has.” Tony clicked the door open, “Night-Night.”

Peter stumbled away from Tony, and landed, face first, onto one of the beds, “This is nice.” He mumbled, without turning his face around.

Tony laughed, placing their bags down onto his bed, “Wanna get into your pajamas?”

Peter shook his head, “Uh-uh.”

“Okay.” He paced into the bathroom, poured a glass of water, and walked back in, grabbing two super soldier pills from the backpack, “I’ve got the drugs, sleepyhead.”

Peter sat up, hunched over, with his eyes half-open, “Thank you.” He took them, and then fell back down, comforted by the pillows.

Tony bent down, pressing a kiss against Peter’s temple, “Don’t let the bed bugs bite, buddy.”

He moved over, sitting on the other bed. He put the television on, quiet, and lost himself in the stupidity of Reality TV.

Peter fell asleep pretty fast, gently snoring to himself.

Tony messaged Pepper, asking her if Morgan was any trouble getting to sleep, she was being a real madam, recently. He then informed May, of their forgetfulness.

Tony's stomach rumbled, “Uh.” He’d seen a vending machine, below the stairs. He got up, grabbing the room key, he gently tiptoed out, being as quiet as possible.

Bruce was standing, in front of the machine, studying it with wide eyes.

“Midnight snacking, hey?” Tony joked, as he got closer, “I won’t tell.” He leaned in, noticing that the machine was dead, the lights were off, and nothing was coming up on the selection screen.

“Oh, shit.” He reached for his phone, “I might order—”

Tony jumped, out of his skin, when Bruce extended his closed fist, punching the side of the machine and shattering the glass.

“Um..” Tony stood still, remembering Bruce’s boundaries, “Are you okay?”

Bruce grabbed two packets of chips and turned back, “I’m just tired.”

He watched, as Bruce made his way back up to his room, “Alright…” He tapped his watch, “Friday, honey, can you tell Rhodey that Bruce seems to be acting off? It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Of course, Boss.”

Footsteps coming down the stairs, caught Tony’s attention, he turned to see Natasha, holding a pile of folded towels, “Hey.” She stepped over, “You good?” Her eyes locked onto the machine, she raised an eyebrow, “Did you break it?” She laughed uncertainly, “You’re a billionaire, just order.”

Tony rolled his eyes, gesturing to it, “Bruce did it.”

“Oh.”

“He was acting weird.”

“He’s probably just tired.” She said, “Have you warned Rhodey?”

“Yeah.”

She darted his eyes around, “I’m sure it will be fine.”

Tony nodded, hoping the same, “What are you doing?”

“Getting new towels, these smell like smoke.” She complicated, “Wanna join me?”

“Sure.”

She looped her arm around his prosthetic arm, and they headed over to the kiosk, “Come on, then.”

A lady was standing inside, with her back faced towards them.

“Excuse me?” Natasha spoke, with her ‘civilian’ voice, that was oddly gentle and high pitched, “You don’t have any spare towels, do you? I’ve got a non-smoking room, but these ones reek of nicotine.”

“Yes, of course, love.” The clerk said, with a croaky voice, she turned to face them – she was well into her sixties, she had a cigarette in her hand, but contrastingly, a tracheotomy tube in her throat, “I’ll get those for you now.”

Natasha slid over the old towels, wearing an awkward smile, “Thanks.”

Tony looked around, noticing a plaque on the board behind the clerk, that read ‘112.’

The clerk handed Natasha new towels, and turned to Tony, “Do you need anything, Mr. Stark?”

"Um, our friend...." He motioned back, "Accidently broke your vending machine, I'm okay, with covering the costs--"

"No worry dear, that old thing hasn't worked for months-" She informed him, "It's scheduled for removal." 

Tony nodded, "Alright..." His eyes found the plaque again, "Um-"

The clerk gestured back, "You admiring our memorial plaque, sweetheart?"

Natasha's forehead creased, "Memorial plaque?"

Tony pushed further, “What does that mean?”

She shook her head, with a cackle, “Oh, that’s an inside joke.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll warn you, it’s morbid.” She laughed, “You really wanna know?”

“We’ve seen a lot of morbid.” Tony said, truthfully, nodding his head towards Natasha – there had never been a truer statement, considering Tony almost died, and Natasha was actually dead, for a short period, until Steve returned the soul stone to Vormir, “Hit us.”

“We're not gonna make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction.” She mocked, “But we are number one in Cleveland when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening, more than any other motel in Cleveland, we have the most guest suicides.”

Tony’s jaw dropped, “Wow.”

Natasha leaned up, whispering in his ear, “That wasn’t in the brochure.” She held up the towels, “Thank you.”

They quickly scurried away, “That was disturbing.” Tony snickered nervously, “This is the last time I let Steve Rogers decide our emergency pit stop. If I’d asked Friday, she would have found us a nicer place.”

“I don’t know.” Natasha’s mouth twitched into a smile, “It’s creepy, but it’s kinda fun.”

They made their way up the stairs, “That’s so you.”

A door swung open, and Wanda darted into view, throwing her arms out, grabbing onto the railings in her front of her.

Tony’s smile dropped, “Wanda?” He looked to Natasha, who looked as equally as concerned, “You okay?”

She turned, her face, as white as a sheet, “Did you hear that?”

Natasha looked around, “What?”

“The couple, next door, it sounded like—” Wanda pointed, to the room, behind them, with a shaking hand, “—Like they’re making a suicide pact.”

“Shit—” Tony jumped into action, hurrying back, and knocking his fist, rapidly, against the door, “Hello!”

“Get out of the way.” Natasha barked, throwing the towels aside, she raised her foot, kicking the door open, swiftly.

Tony leaped inside, flipping on the light switch, but there was no couple – the room seemed to be under construction, covered with white sheets, and full of building equipment.

“This doesn’t make sense.” Wanda paced inside, tears in her eyes, “I heard them, they were so clear.”

Natasha peeled back one of the sheets, to reveal splatters of blood, across the wall, “Look.” 

Tony held a hand under his chin, “Holy shit.”

Natasha studied it, “They were here?”

Wanda exclaimed, “But it was now, I heard them—”

“Your powers, they’re constructed from the mind stone, your mind is on a different wavelength from ours, right?” Tony asked, gently.

“Yeah.” Wanda nodded, “I still don’t really know the full extent of them.”

“I’m sorry.” Tony rested a hand on her arm, “But I think you heard an echo, a memory of the people who died in this room.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, “I can hear the dead?”

Natasha walked back over to them, “Is that even possible?”

“Strange would be the one to ask.” Tony held out his arms, “I’m only theorizing.”

“I don’t like it here.” Wanda moved away, she took out her phone, “I’m gonna call Vis.”

Vision, Thor, Scott, and everybody else, for that case, had the right idea, of sitting out for the work retreat.

Wanda stared at her phone, her forehead creased, “No signal.”

“That’s impossible.” They all had new StarkPhones, and the connection was impeccable, “That—” He took out his phone, “No way.”

Natasha leaned over to see, “I thought your phones were absolute.”

“They are.”

She prodded his screen, “Not in creepy motels.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Look, these aren’t murders.” Natasha pointed out, “They’re suicides.”

Wanda squealed, “These?”

Tony looked up, “This place has a history with suicide.”

“It does?”

Natasha blew a slow breath, “Yeah, the owners keep score.”

“That’s gross.” Wanda put her phone back in her pocket, “I wanna leave.”  

“We should round everybody up and find somewhere new.” Tony agreed, “I don’t wanna risk it.”

They left the room and pulled the broken door to a close.

“Hey!” Rhodey called, from down in the car park, waving his hand.

All three of them hurried down, to meet him, in the middle.

Tony rushed over, placing a hand on his arm, “What’s wrong?”

“Any of you seen Bruce? “ He asked, “He went to get snacks but never came back.”

Tony slouched his shoulders, his heart running at a mile a minute, “He was acting weird when I last saw him.”

“He was?”

“Didn’t Friday alert you?”

“No.”

Tony clicked the side of his watch, “Friday, did you send the message to Rhodey?” He received no response, “Friday?”

Rhodey shook his head, “That’s not normal.”

“No signal, No Friday.” Tony hid his trembling hands in his pockets, “This is—"

Steve sprinted down the stairs, “Anybody seen Bucky?” He asked, worry laced in his tone, “He just, disappeared while I was in the shower, and he was—”

“Let me guess.” Natasha tilted her head to her shoulder, “Acting weird?”

“Yes.” Steve frowned, “Like he was, out of it.”

“It’s not only him.” Rhodey said, “Bruce is gone.”

“Something weird is going on here.” Tony itched the back of his head, “It’s not right.”

“Bucky and Bruce?” Natasha raised, “What do they have in common?”

Tony held out a hand, “Super soldier serum?”

They all turned, looking at Steve, who blurted, “I feel fine.”

Tony muttered, “Control?”

Rhodey stepped in closer, “What was that?”

“Lack of control.” Tony suggested, “Both of them, have lost control of their minds, before. In extraordinary ways. Perhaps, whatever’s going on here, it’s taking advantage of that fact.”

Steve and Rhodey, who had no idea about the history of the place they were standing in, stared at him like he had egg on his face.

Natasha jumped, smacking Tony’s arm, “Loki overpowered Clint’s mind.”

Wanda turned, sending a blast over to Sam and Clint’s door – the noise would be enough to wake the surrounding neighborhoods.

Rhodey’s eyes widened, “That’s a way to do it.” 

Wanda turned, “Should I wake up Peter?”

“No.” Tony squeezed the brim of his nose, but he wished he could simply grab Peter and get out, he had to look at the big picture. The kid was asleep, recovering, the safest place for him, despite the circumstances, was that motel room, “He’s probably sleeping through this, I’ll grab him in a second.” He looked around, noticing something obvious,  “There’s no cars.” He said, “It’s a car park and there are no cars—”

Steve cut in, “But there were only five rooms.”

Tony clicked his fingers, “Unless…there wasn’t.”

Wanda jumped in, “We’re the only ones here?”

“Maybe.”

Sam and Clint’s door swung open, they both walked out, in their pajamas, bleary-eyed.

Clint barked, “What the hell?”

“This isn’t funny.” Sam groaned, “What’s going on?”

“Mind control.” Natasha said, blatantly, “We think.”

“But we’re on holiday.” Clint groaned, holding his head back, “Mind control is so 2012.”

“We’re only guessing.” Natasha pulled him aside, “You feel okay?”

“Yeah.” Clint said, “I was sleeping.”

Sam folded his arms, “Can someone explain what’s going on?”

“Quick rundown.” Tony said fast, “This place is famous for its suicides.”

Clint sang, “Terrific.”

“Bruce and Bucky are missing, and they were acting weird.” He held up a hand, silencing Clint’s remarks, “And yes, weirder than usual.”

Natasha added, “Like they weren’t in control.”

Clint rubbed the nape of his neck, “You think whatever is going on here, it’s controlling people who have lost control of their minds before?”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded, “So, you feeling alright?”

“Just tired.” Clint shrugged. “I mean, I know I went through it, with Loki, but definitely not as bad as those two have.”

Natasha crossed her arms, “Could the super solider serum still be involved?”

Tony held out a hand, “It could be both.”

Steve added, “Or neither.”

Tony bit down on his nails, “Whatever it is, we need to look for them.”

A noise echoed from the upper floor, they all jumped, out of their skin.

Tony looked up, he knew that noise, he was a mechanic, after all, “That’s—” It was coming from the room, under construction. “That’s a handsaw!” He charged up the stairs, as fast as possible, with everybody hot on his tail, he threw the door open.

Bucky was stood, in the center, holding the handsaw in his hand, like it weighed nothing, and he was about to slice himself in half with it.

“Barnes, no!” Tony screamed, charging ahead, with his arms held up.

Steve leaped over, “Buck!”

Tony pulled on Bucky’s arm, “Wanda!”

Wanda hurried inside, using her powers to pull the handsaw aside, she left it suspended in the air as Rhodey dashed over, pulling the plug out of the power socket.

Bucky growled, he pulled his metal arm free from Tony’s grasp and tried to crawl, at his stomach, “No!”

Wanda held up her hand, trying to get into his head, “I can’t stop him! His mind is—"

Tony taped his prosthetic arm, firing up the reactor,  “Close your eyes.” He told everyone, as he held it up, blinding Bucky, with a quick flash.

Bucky jerked backward, landing on his backside, “What the hell?” He pushed himself up, on his elbows, “What’s going on?”

“Can’t believe that worked.” Tony backed out, pointing to Steve, “Explain it to him, everybody else look for Bruce – I’m grabbing Peter.”

They all scattered, calling Bruce’s name.

Tony darted down, towards his room, he fumbled for the key, “Come on, come on—”

“Somebody!” Natasha shrieked, from her room, “Quick.”

“Fuck,” Tony turned, hurrying back, “What—”

She charged back inside, “Quick, it’s Bruce!” She led him into the bathroom.

Tony wasn’t ready for the sight.

Bruce was in the bathtub, holding himself down, with the safe that was in the bedroom, it was pressed against his chest.

Tony jumped into action, trying to move it, “It’s no good.”

Natasha tried to get to the plug, “The drain’s blocked.”

“Stand back.” Tony did the same, as before, blinding Bruce with the reactor.

Bruce sat up, with a roar, he tossed the safe aside, on the bathroom floor, “What—what—”

“I got this.” Natasha pushed Tony’s arm, “Go and get Peter.”

“Thank you.” Tony charged down, throwing his door open, “Come on, Pete This place is screwed.” He moved his hand, flipping on the switch.

But as the light flickered on, Tony’s world grew darker.

Peter wasn’t there.

“Peter?” He stepped inside, looking around, “No.” He stepped into the bathroom, “Peter!” He ran back outside, screaming, “Peter!”

Rhodey’s panicked stricken voice, grabbed his attention, “Tones…”

Tony snapped his head around, “What?”

“I found him.” Rhodey leaned over the gate, pointing down to the car park.

Tony leaned over, looking at the bigger picture, “No.”

Peter was standing, in the center, surrounded by a puddle of gasoline, and in his hand, was an emergency flare, that they stored in the back of the van.

“Kid!” Tony hurried, down the stairs, towards the chaos, “Peter!”

One wrong moved, and his kid was gone, again.

Everyone followed, standing around, with nothing to say.

Tony spun, “Wanda?”

“I can’t see into his mind, I can’t move the—” She seemed helpless, “I can’t move the flare, he could drop it, I could drop it—”

“Don’t worry.” Tony said quietly, “I’ve got this.”

The gauntlet would have the same problem, Peter would drop the flare, into the gasoline, from the shock.

Tony slowed his breathing and turned, “Hey, kid.”

Peter’s eyes were glassy, unfocused, but underneath it, Tony’s Peter was fighting to get back to the surface, he needed a helping hand, “It’s my fault.”

“What…” Tony stammered, “What’s your fault, kiddo?”

“Everything.” Peter’s eyes filled with tears, “My Mum and Dad – I should have made them stay.”

“Peter, you were only six.” Tony pointed out, keeping his voice low, “What happened to your parents shouldn’t have happened. They deserved better, and so do you.” His throat cracked, “It’s not your fault, buddy. You couldn’t have stopped them from leaving. No one knew what was going to happen.”

“Ben.” Peter met Tony’s gaze, “He was following me, when he was shot—I stormed out.”

The team held their surprise, for they had never heard these stories – they knew about the loss, but not about the circumstance.

“You were going through a change that no one else has before, Pete.” Tony spoke with his stomach in his throat, “Teenagers storm out all the time. That is not your fault. You know that. May has told you that, so many times, it—”

Peter cut in, “She hates me.”

Tony hiccuped, “She could never hate you.”

Peter tightened his grip around the flare, “Ben would still be here if it wasn’t for me—”

“No.” Tony interrupted, “You are not responsible for the actions of others.”

“What about you?”

Tony stared, at a loss for words.

“You nearly died.”

Tony looked, at his prosthetic arm, “That was my choice, Pete.”

Tears fell down Peter’s cheeks, “You did it for me.”

“Still not your fault.”

“Everyone around me gets hurt.” Peter’s chin trembled, “You’ll all be gone if I stay.”

“No, baby.” Tony edged closer, “No, we need you.” He motioned back, “All of us need Peter Parker.”

“Nobody needs me!” Peter snapped, “That’s what they say.”

“Who?”

“People at school.”

“They’re bullies, nothing more.” He pointed, to the flare, “I’m gonna need you to pass that to me, kiddo, and then we’ll figure this out together, huh? Like we always do.”

“Not this time.” Peter said, emotionlessly, “I’ve had enough.”

“Okay, buddy. Listen to me, okay?” Tony pleaded, “Something is doing this to you. Making you think this. They went after Bruce and Bucky – they’ve got to you too. I should have realized, I should have guessed—”

Control? Peter lost control of everything when he was bitten by the spider. It changed his genetics, overnight, and that should have killed him. Tony wasn’t there then, but he could imagine, the agony the kid went through. The venom, from the spider, had a similar structure, to the super-soldier serum, but it wasn’t the same, still, Tony had only just connected those dots. He’d hate himself, for being that slow, no matter how this turned out.

“No, I don’t—” Pete shook his head, “No, this is me, I’m a mistake.”

“This isn’t you.” Tony sniffled, “We’re gonna be okay, kiddo. I promise.” He pointed, “You’re not a mistake. Anything but. You’re—” His voice wavered, “You’re my kid, and I love you—”

The unfamiliarity in Peter’s eyes started to clear.

“So, if…” Tony stepped forward, into the gasoline, “If you’re gonna do this…”

Rhodey gasped in a gentle knowing tone, from behind, “Oh, Tones…”

Tony swallowed the lump, in his throat, “You’re gonna have to take me with you then.”

Peter’s face contorted, as he stared Tony in the eye.

Tony carefully pulled the flare out of Peter’s grip, he held it back, “Take it.”

“I—” Steve wrapped his hand around it, avoiding the gasoline puddle, “I’ve got it.”

“Thank you.”

Peter flinched, his body slouching, “Mr. Stark?” He squeaked, looking around, the car park, “What—”

Tony reached over, pressing a hand against Peter’s cheek, “Hey there, kiddo.”

Peter leaned into his palm, he blurted, “That wasn’t me, that wasn’t—Oh, God—I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t—"

Tony tugged him into a hug, combing his hand through Peter’s gasoline-ridden hair, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He muttered, “You’re back.” He held him, tight, “I’ve got you."

[just-the-daydreamer]

Too much

By @just-the-daydreamer for @ferretshark 

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Paker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, FRIDAY (Marvel), May Parker (mentioned)

Summary: 

“I-I think it’s a sensory overload. I don’t know what caused it. Everything is just, too much!” Peter managed to grit out, hands still locked in place over his ears. They weren’t really helping him filter out the sound, but it gave him something to focus on.

OR

Peter wakes up with a sensory overload and Tony is there to help him out.

Ao3 link (Doesn’t work yet)

Taglist:

@paradoxicalblueberry @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @aatticsaltt @marvel-us-world @tony-wheres-my-supersuit @sketchydragonscales @baloobird @a-l-ias @spideynamu @troubledpixel @irondad-is-cannon-bitch

Hi! I really hope you enjoy this!! I tried to keep the whump to a minimum and tried my best at Protective Tony! I hope you like it!

Peter’s head was pounding. He’d only woken up a few minutes ago but he was sure that it was not going to be a Good Day. The fabric of his shirt was rubbing against him in a way that seemed to burn and the blanket felt even worse. The only reason Peter even kept the blanket was to hide himself from the light. It was burning his retinas. 

His alarm clock suddenly went off and the shrill ringing was even more painful than the light. His hand shot out from under the blanket and switched it off before yanking his arm back underneath. He groaned quietly after remembering that he had a math test and he couldn’t skip school, even though his body was begging him to. 

Dragging his body out of bed was one of the most difficult experiences he had ever dealt with as Peter Parker. Usually, the painful stuff was left for Spiderman to deal with. Somehow, Peter managed to get ready for school, wearing the comfiest clothes he owned. 

Forcing his legs to move, Peter made his way to the kitchen to grab the lunch he had prepared yesterday evening. He snagged a few nutrition bars to eat along the way. They would, hopefully, keep his energy up until lunch. 

The commute to school was awful, being in a compact area pressed up against countless other people was nauseating. Peter stumbled out of the carriage and made his way to the gates, head still spinning from the journey. He staggered into his homeroom seat and as soon as his bag was off, he rested his head against the cool table for some relief. 

“Peter? Are you okay?” Ned leaned across his table to whisper his question in Peter’s ear. 

“I’m fine. Just a headache.” He replied, stringing the least amount of words together to suffice Ned’s worrying. 

“It doesn’t look like ‘just a headache’ to me. Should you even be at school?” Ned continued to press the issue, unaware of how Peter truly felt. 

Peter turned his head to whisper, eyes still closed, “I’m fine, Ned.” Before continuing to rest his head against the table. 

Ned backed off after that. It was a small mercy which Peter was grateful for. He just hoped that everyone else would leave him alone. 

-

The misshapen, paper ball hit its target once again. The target being the back of Peter’s head. It was really irritating him and he was already in a bad mood. It seemed his senses had become even more sensitive and now he couldn’t block out anything. The longer the day went, the worse he felt. It was a mistake coming into school but any more missed days and Peter would’ve faced disciplinary action. 

His original plan was just to keep his head down, hood up and try to focus on blocking everything out but that plan was soon scrapped after getting told to take his hood off. His new plan was to tough it out until after the maths test and go home, saying he was sick. Less than an hour in and Peter was just about ready to leap out of the window and go home anyway. 

Flash had been getting extremely on his nerves today and Peter didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. He was really regretting not sleeping in now. 

As the lesson continued to drag on, Peter’s head began to hurt even more. The fluorescent lights were piercing his eyes, even when he had them closed. The thumping sound of his classmates’ heartbeats surrounded him and their droning chatter was vibrating in his ears. He could smell the wood shavings from someone’s pencil and the food in people’s bags, all mixing together to form a repulsive odour that only he could smell. His clothes brushed against his skin and its touch was the worst sensation he could have felt. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it might have been if he hadn’t chosen comfy clothes that morning but he didn’t really want to think about it. 

The bell rang and the sound of thousands of feet shuffling and stomping against the ground was all that Peter could hear. The ringing was still echoing through his eardrums and the noise of the people’s conversations and their shoes squeaking on the floor was too much. 

He wanted to tear his ears off, the world was so loud. His hands instinctively moved towards his ears, trying to block out as much noise as he could but the vibrations still made their way to his overwhelmed eardrums. It was so loud it felt like his brain was rattling in his skull. 

His fingers were still clamped over his ears when he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder. Judging from their grip, Peter assumed it was Ned. Peter opened his eyes, not even realising that he had closed them at any point, to find an empty and blindingly bright room and Ned behind him. 

“Okay, what’s going on, Peter? Don’t lie to me and tell me you’re fine.” Ned said with a firm tone. He removed his hand from Peter’s shoulder and crossed his arms, looking (rightfully) displeased. 

“I-I think it’s a sensory overload. I don’t know what caused it. Everything is just, too much!” Peter managed to grit out, hands still locked in place over his ears. They weren’t really helping him filter out the sound, but it gave him something to focus on. 

“Look, I think you should go see the nurse. Maybe she’ll let you go home or she might be nice and let you sleep it off. Either way, I really think that you shouldn’t be in school today.” Ned’s voice was softer this time, lower in volume. It wasn’t much but it gave him the slightest amount of relief. 

“Can’t go home. Got a maths test. May’s at work, too." 

"Oh my gosh, Peter! You can’t seriously believe that you’ll be able to take a maths test when you can’t even stand up right now and get a good score! You can retake the test another day - Mrs. Davis loves you anyway so just take the day off.” The teen softly exclaimed, astonished at the stupidity of his best friend. 

“I don’t wanna make a scene, Ned." 

"I think you already made a scene when the bell rang and you were still sitting here with your hands over your head. Plus, I’m already late to my next lesson so I might as well have a proper excuse.” And with that, Ned hauled Peter out of his seat, careful not to irritate him too much. He grabbed his friend’s bag and threw it over his shoulder before hovering around Peter in case his knees buckled. 

-

A painful couple of minutes later, the duo arrived outside the nurses office. Ned was already 10 minutes late so he just stayed with Peter and explained the situation to the nurse. He was already late, why not help his friend out while he’s there? 

Peter’s details were taken and May was called but the nurse was obviously disappointed that she didn’t pick up.

Even though they’d already said she was at work.

So, Peter’s second emergency contact was called and it went about as well as Ned would’ve imagined. 

“Hello? My name is Susan Lee and I’m calling on behalf of Peter Parker. Is this Mr. Stark?" 

"This is him, yes. Is Peter okay-" 

"He’s feeling a bit ill. He has a headache and he says he feels sick. His aunt didn’t pick up the phone so we had to call you. Is it alright for you to pick him up?" 

"I’ll be there soon, thanks for calling me.” The phone cut off with a beep and Miss Lee set the phone down softly on the desk. 

The nurse whirled around towards Ned and raised a shaky finger at his face. With wide eyes she questioned, “There is no way that was Tony Stark! How does” - she pointed her finger towards a pale and unresponsive Peter instead - “ that boy know Tony Stark?!”

Honestly, Ned was slightly impressed at how calm she had been while talking to a literal celebrity. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t unnerved by her accusing finger. He backed away from her slightly, shifting his gaze between her concentrated gaze and Peter, who was collapsed against a table by his chair. 

“He interns for Stark Industries! I think he’s Mr. Stark’s personal intern!" 

"There is no way Stark Industries hires high school interns!” She pressed, hand slowly sinking into her lap. 

“Don’t shoot the messenger! If you don’t believe me, why don’t you just wait and see? Mr. Stark said he’s coming to pick Peter up anyway so you’ll see him then!” Ned tried to placate her but he wasn’t sure if she would listen or not. It was quite intimidating to be honest, Miss Lee was always a nice nurse so this side of her was kind of terrifying.

Ned checked on Peter, saying his 'get wells’ and goodbyes one more time before turning to leave. He was late enough, and he didn’t need to be there for Mr. Stark’s arrival. 

-

Tony burst into the school with an air of calm disguising his worry. Peter was never one to just get a headache and go home, so either he was hiding an injury or something worse had happened. 

When he opened the door, the first thing he could see was a head of curly brown hair slumped against a small table adjacent to a row of chairs. His thinly veiled calmness almost shattered there and then but he managed to hold it together to turn to the nurse and sign some papers, muttering something about taking Peter home. 

Tony truly had no idea what he had said, he felt like he was in a haze, but whatever it was, it seemed to work and he gathered Peter’s things before turning to said teen. 

He crouched down in front of him and ran a calloused hand through the boy’s sweaty hair. 

Tapping the side of his face he whispered to the teenager. “Hey, Pete. A little birdie told me you weren’t feeling too hot today. You wanna get outta here?" 

A small nod was given in response and that was all that Tony needed to help Peter up and walk them out the school gates. 

-

The drive back was… painful to say the least. Tony tried to drive as fast as he could back to the Tower but Peter was in pain the entire time. It killed him to see the kid in so much pain but there was nothing he could do at that point. He’d already given Peter his sunglasses which seemed to help a little and the kid had already grabbed some soundproof headphones from his bag, but even then he could still hear sounds. 

The kid had also explained briefly that he was having a sensory overload, which was something that Tony could deal with. At the Tower.

On the road, however? Not so much. 

When they finally reached the elevator, FRIDAY took them straight up to Tony’s personal floor. 

As soon as the doors opened, Tony whispered, "Protocol Bedtime.” Immediately the lights went off and Tony guided a much more relaxed Peter towards his room, through muscle memory alone. 

He had Peter change out of his clothes and put on something softer to wear to sleep. He wasn’t really sure what to do to help Peter, but some rest seemed like a good idea. Hopefully, he’d be able to sneak away and build something to block out input. 

Forcing Peter to lie down, Tony closed the curtains in his room and sat down on the mattress next to where the young adolescent laid. 

“You feeling better, kiddo?” Tony whispered at what he hoped was a suitable volume. 

“Um, yeah. Yeah everything’s great.” Peter fidgeted under the covers. 

“You sure? Because if there’s anything I can do just say the word, it’ll be done.”

“Erm, yeah, there’s-there’s this one thing. It’s really embarrassing though and- actually it’s fine don’t worry about it.” Peter decided, pulling the covers over himself and looking away from Tony’s gaze. 

“Come on, kiddo. Spit it out. I want to help you. I bet it’s not even that embarrassing. What is it? You need the toilet but I tucked you in too well?” Tony replied with a small smile, hoping he could get Peter to talk. 

“Wi-will you stay?” Peter asked, tentatively, glancing back at Tony. 

The billionaire’s eyes softened as he glanced at the kid- his kid. He would do anything for this kid and his heart was bursting with so much love for him. He wouldn’t admit it though. He had a reputation to keep. 

“Of course I’ll stay. Scoot over would you?” Tony slipped his shoes off and sat under the covers with Peter who’d moved away from the centre of the mattress. 

Peter immediately moved closer to his mentor, until his head was against his hip. Peter rolled on his side to face Tony and he closed his eyes, taking relief in his father figure’s presence. Tony didn’t say anything, just placed his hands in Peter’s curls and began untangling the knots that had formed. He didn’t know if it would help Peter, but his blissful expression said everything. Tony stayed with him, carding his fingers through Peter’s soft hair, until he was sure that the teen had fallen asleep. Trying to be as silent as possible, Tony extracted himself from the bed and slipped his shoes on before exiting the room. 

He headed down to the lab and told FRIDAY to notify him when Peter woke up. He left a message for May, explaining what had happened and that Peter was okay. Then he got to work. 

-

“Boss, Peter has woken up.” FRIDAY helpfully informed him a few hours later.

“Thanks, FRI. I’ll be up there soon." 

Tony made his way up to his floor, some sleek earphones in hand. Opening the door softly, he poked his head through the door and looked to see a half asleep Peter sitting up, his hair wild and sticking out. A soft chuckle was heard from Tony as he opened the door completely and walked inside, heading towards the confused hero. 

"What’s happening?” Peter’s voice was scratchy and raw. 

“You had a sensory overload. You hungry?” Tony replied, setting the earphones down on Peter’s lap. 

“What’re these?” Peter asked, turning them over in his hands. 

“Earphones. Hopefully, they’ll block out the worst of the sounds when you’re in public. I made them small so you can wear them in class and still hear what’s going on without being overwhelmed.” Tony replied with a shrug. 

Suddenly, he had an armful of Peter who was holding on tightly to the billionaire. Tony smiled and after a few moments he returned the hug, gripping the kid just as tight. 

When they finally separated, Tony started to tame the boy’s hair, smoothing it down. “I asked you a question earlier. You hungry?” Tony said, his lips quirking up into a smile. 

“Starving. I was gonna go home at lunch after I had my math test but…” he trailed off, looking bashfully at his father figure. 

All Tony could do was laugh at his stupidity. His kid had no common sense. “What am I going to do with you, kiddo?" 

"Make me a grilled cheese sandwich?” Peter replied, voice hopeful. 

“Sure. Let’s go.” Tony snorted, pulling Peter up and leading him into the kitchen. The billionaire pulled him into a one-armed hug while they made their way into the kitchen. 

He couldn’t hide his grin when Peter leaned closer.

[losingmymindtonight]

Whumptober: Unconscious

AN: Whumptober is just me seeing how quickly I can write something. It’s not quality, nor is it quantity, but it sure is fic. That’s about all I’ve got in me.

--

The alert went off just after 3:00 am.

Which was, as a general rule, not one of Tony’s favorite times to get alerts.

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled him from his hyperfocus on the exposed circuitry in front of him, “I have detected strange anomalies in Peter Parker’s vitals.”

He looked up in surprise. “What time is it?”

“3:03 am.”

He blinked. “And why the fuck is the kid in the suit at 3:00 am? It’s a school night. His curfew is 11:00.”

“Mister Parker is not in the suit. My readings are coming from the biotech in his watch.”

Okay. That… that wasn’t exactly ideal.

“What are the anomalies?”

“Mister Parker’s heart rate is unusually elevated and his blood oxygen levels appear to be rapidly decreasing.”

Did the kid go on patrol without his suit? Tony was going to kill him. “Where is he?”

“In his bed.”

Wait, what?

“Are you… are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck? F.R.I.D.A.Y., track his phone.”

There was a pause as the AI completed the request. Then,

“It appears to be on the table beside his bed, Boss.”

“Call him. Now.”

“Of course.”

The sound of the phone ringing filled the lab. Tony pushed away his project. He had more important things to worry about now.

The phone kept ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. Peter Parker is not available. At the tone, please record your message. When you finish recording you may hang up, or press 1 for more-

“Push the call through, FRI.”

“Yes, Boss.”

There was a brief rush of static, and then quiet.

If he listened really, really hard, he could just barely make out the sound of someone breathing.

“Peter?” The kid must be asleep (or unconscious), because there wasn’t any answer. He tried again, louder. “Peter!”

He heard the rustle of sheets, then a huff of confusion.

“Mis’er St’rk?”

“Thank god, you’re alive. You had me wondering there for a minute.”

“Huh? Where’re you?”

He blinked. “Try your phone, bud.”

“Wha’? Why’re you in my ph’ne?”

No, no, no, no, no. The spark of concern that had settled at the sound of the kid’s voice lit right back up, bright and sharp. This was a serious step above you-just-woke-me-up-and-I’m-still-half-asleep confusion. This was… that was something much, much worse.

“I-I’m not. I called you, Pete.”

“Called me?”

“Mhm. Are you alright? F.R.I.D.A.Y. says your vitals went wonky and you seem… a little out of it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’ feel good.”

He sat up straighter on the bench, hands clenching with fear. He’d known something was wrong before, but hearing the kid admit it only gave purchase to the panic. “What do you mean?”

“Feel weird.”

“Define weird.”

“Dunno. Head hurts. Feel sick.”

Tony blinked. “FRI? Does he have a fever?”

“No, Boss. Although Mister Parker’s O2 levels are dropping low enough to be an imminent concern.”

He leapt to his feet. A little early morning trip to Queens wouldn’t kill him. Who needed sleep, anyway? “Pete? I’m coming over, okay? Can you get up and wake May?”

“Not here.”

“May isn’t there?”

“No. Graveyard shift.”

“Okay. Okay. That’s alright. I’m gonna come take care of you. Just keep talking to me.” The suit folded around him and F.R.I.D.A.Y. flipped the call to his heads up display without being prompted. “Do you feel like you’re gonna throw up?”

“Mhm.”

“If you need to, just do it. I’ll clean it up later.”

“M’kay.”

“Good boy.” He rushed out onto the roof and shot into the air. He was so hasty in his takeoff that he had to quickly correct his trajectory with his thrusters, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Did you feel sick before you went to sleep?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright.” He muted himself and finally let the panic seep through his voice. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? What the fuck is wrong with him? Is it the flu?”

“The flu does not usually involve such a rapid drop in oxygen levels.”

“Then what’s wrong with him?”

“My sources indicate-”

“Those sources better not be WebMD.”

“They are not.” If Tony didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded offended. “As I was saying: my sources indicate that Mister Parker is likely suffering from a drug allergy. However, it is also possible that the symptoms are the precursor to an epileptic episode or a brain hemorrhage.”

“Why the fuck would he have a brain hemorrhage?”

“Considering Mister Parker’s age, state of health, and activity level, the most likely cause would be trauma. Until I can run a more in-depth scan, your best course of action would be to continue assessing his mental status.”

He switched his audio back on, nodding as if F.R.I.D.A.Y. needed his confirmation. “Hey, buddy. You still with me?”

“Mhm.”

“Good job. Hey, I have some questions to ask you, and it’s really important that you answer them honestly. I swear I won’t get mad.”

“M’kay.”

“Did you go on patrol earlier? Without the suit?”

“No.”

“Do you promise?”

“Mhm.”

“So no injuries I should know about?”

“No.”

“Did you take medicine before you went to sleep? Ibuprofen? Anything?”

“No.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright. Have you ever had a seizure, Pete?”

“Wha’?” That question seemed to wake the kid up a bit. “No. Why?”

“I’m just checking. How do you feel?”

Peter seemed to contemplate that for a second.

“‘M... ‘M really tired, Mis’er Stark.”

“No. Nope. Stay awake, okay? I don’t know what's wrong with you yet.”

“Somethin’s wrong wi’ me?”

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. “Yeah, buddy. You told me you didn’t feel good. Remember?”

“Mm. Oh, yeah. I really don’ feel good.”

“I know. I’m,” he glanced at the ETA F.R.I.D.A.Y. helpfully threw up on the screen, “I’m three minutes away from you. Hang on.”

“M’kay.”

There was something impossibly frightening about having something wrong with Peter and not knowing what. He’d had to get used to the idea of the kid getting hurt on patrol, rolling into the Tower clutching a bleeding wound or a broken bone. It was an uncomfortable truth, but one he’d learned to assimilate into his life.

But this… this was exponentially more frightening. This was something happening to Peter, not Spider-Man. He could sew up bullet wounds and cast broken bones. He couldn’t fix something he couldn’t even diagnose.

God, he hated being stuck in the dark.

“Can you tell me more about what’s wrong, kiddo?” Honestly, he didn’t really expect to learn anything useful. He was just trying to keep Peter as lucid as possible until he could get there. “What feels bad?”

“Head.”

“Your head hurts?”

“Mhm.”

He could see Peter’s apartment complex now. Every inch closer made his heart rate climb. “Anything else?”

“Dunno. ‘M just… tired.”

“Alright. Remember what I said, though, right? No sleeping.”

“No sleepin’.”

“That’s it. Good boy.” He landed on the fire escape outside Peter’s room with the discordant clatter of metal on metal. It was loud enough to be unwanted at 3:00 in the goddamn morning, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’m here, bud.”

“Took a long time.”

Don’t I know it, kid.

He ended up climbing through the window into Peter’s room. There was a part of him that nearly went into the main entrance and took the elevator to the apartment (May had given him a spare key, so he could’ve just let himself in), but the half-panicked ball of worry in his chest convinced him otherwise.

“Pete?”

The lump on the bed shifted. “Mis’er Stark?”

He rushed to the kid’s side, metal-clad knees knocking into wooden floors as he knelt beside the low-slung mattress. “Hey, squirt. Told you I was coming.”

Suddenly, an alert, red and flashing and impossible to ignore, exploded onto his heads up display.

WARNING: DANGEROUS LEVELS OF CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTED DO NOT REMOVE HELMET INITIALIZING OXYGEN RESERVES OXYGEN RESERVES INITIALIZED

He froze in realization. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Mister Parker’s symptoms match those of carbon monoxide poisoning, although it is notoriously difficult to diagnose without context. There is likely a leak somewhere in the building.”

“What do I-”

“It is advised to remove Mister Parker from the contaminated area and into fresh air as quickly as possible. I have notified emergency services. They should arrive within five minutes to assist the other residents.”

At some point during his hurried conversation with F.R.I.D.A.Y., Peter’s eyes had fallen shut. He didn’t move when Tony pressed his gauntlet against his shoulder. He shook him, first gently and then with more vigor, and the kid just stayed limp.

“Pete?” Nothing. Shit. “Alright. Don’t worry about it, kiddo, I’ve got it handled.” He tore Peter’s comforter away in a manner that definitely did not denote I’ve got it handled, but he supposed it didn’t really matter when Peter was unconscious. “I’m gonna pick you up now, okay? We’re going on a little trip.”

Peter offered no resistance when Tony scooped him up. And, fuck, the kid was heavy. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the kid was 5’8” of pure muscle.

Pure muscle that was now a complete deadweight.

Great.

He clambered onto the fire escape with a lot more grace than he’d really expected. Then again, he had the added motivation of not wanting to jostle the precious cargo cradled to his chestplate. As he went, he found himself babbling nonsensically to the kid.

“It’s all gonna be fine. I’m gonna take you back to the Tower and pump you full of oxygen. That’ll be nice, yeah? And I’ll call May, tell her that you can both bunk at the Tower until the leak gets solved. It’ll be great. You love sleepovers.”

Peter didn’t twitch during the flight back to the Tower, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t alert him to any worsening vitals, so he did his best to focus through it. He didn’t waste time taking the suit off when he landed on the roof, just headed straight for the MedBay.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” He called, skidding his way into one of the MedBay rooms. “What do I do? Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

“He needs oxygen, Boss.”

He felt like screaming. “He’s getting oxygen.”

“Not enough.”

He deposited Peter onto the bed in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs. His lips were tinged with blue, just slightly, and the sight made Tony feel like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen himself.

“Sorry, sorry.” He winced in sympathy as the kid’s head lolled unnaturally against the plastic mattress. “I’ll make you comfy when you can breathe, kiddo, sorry…”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimed in before he could even process that he needed her help. “The oxygen tanks are located in the hallway supply closet, along with tubing and a mask.”

He jogged out the door and tore open the closet door. It only took him a few seconds to bundle everything he needed into his arms, but they felt like wasted moments all the same.

He’d helped set up a few oxygen tanks in the past, and it wasn’t necessarily difficult. Attaching the tubing was made slightly more complicated by the tremors running through his hands, but he pushed through it. 

“There ya go, buddy.” Relief rushed through him once the mask was snug over the kid’s face. “All better now. Or, at least, we’re on our way, yeah?”

The next few minutes dragged by. Tony resisted the urge to glue himself to the vital monitors. Instead, he forced himself to trust F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s judgement, and stuck right by Peter’s side, brushing his hair back and talking gently. He knew firsthand the adrenaline rush of waking up in a place different than the one you lost consciousness in, knew how terrifying and disorienting it was. He wanted Peter to have an anchor: something that he understood, even if he didn’t understand anything else.

“His oxygen stats are improving rapidly, Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. offered after what felt like an eternity. “I estimate that he is likely to regain consciousness soon.”

Sure enough, Peter groaned a minute or two later, forehead wrinkling and he shifted weakly against the mattress. 

“Hey buddy,” he murmured, cupping Peter’s face and tilting his head so he’d be lined up perfectly in the kid’s vision when he opened his eyes. “C’mon. Look at me, yeah? Let me know you’re alive in there.”

Peter’s eyes snapped open. For a brief second, his entire body keyed up, muscles coiling, but then his gaze cleared and his pupils found the face hovering above him and Tony could see recognition shoot through his expression. He melted, then, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of his mouth.

“Morning,” Tony whispered. Peter just blinked up at him slowly, brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s alright. Just keep breathing, nice and slow.”

A sluggish hand fumbled up to the oxygen mask, but Tony caught it before he could pull it off. “Yeah, I know. Leave that be. It’s helping.”

“Patrol?” Peter slurred, and Tony had to strain to make out the word through the mask.

He shook his head. “Shh. Don’t worry about it right now, alright?”

To his surprise, Peter relented, eyes drifting closed again, any hint of lingering tension releasing from his expression. “M’kay.”

Tony let his head bow forward, shaky with relief. He felt like he’d spend the rest of his life chasing after Peter Parker, scooping him up and stitching him back together again.

“I’m really glad you’re alright, buddy,” he said, voice low and strained.

Peter didn’t answer, just turned his face sleepily into his palm, but Tony didn’t need to hear anything from the kid, anyway.

He knew.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 15.5

When I Live My Dream (Please Be There To Meet Me)

song for the chapter: in my head - peter manos

To go along with chapter 15! This scene feels more important to the storyline than the Sobbe one, but probably still not absolutely necessary? (But please, read it 🙏🏻). The temptation to write a full length VDS fic is so fucking strong but for now at least, take this ☺️

Lucas finds Jens at the skate park. Of course.

It’s more difficult than he expects, because Jens isn’t skating with his friends or even skating by himself. Lucas has to avoid all the dips and ramps and other people zooming past him, dangerously close, to find the shelter Jens has taken refuge in. It takes him longer than he expected, due to the fact it could barely be considered part of the skate park, as tucked away and inconspicuous as it is. Jens is sat at the back, arms resting lazily on his raised knees, head tipped back against the metal wall and cushioned by his hood.

He lifts it when Lucas steps towards him, and it’s only then that Lucas notices how tired he looks. He musters a small smile and flicks his hand in a wave. Lucas moves to sit down next to him, pulling down Jens’s hood to ruffle his hair on the way. Jens pulls a face and huffs at him, but Lucas catches that slight uptick at the corners of his mouth. He gets settled down and mimics Jens’s position, only with his arms crossed. The rest of the skate park is mostly hidden from here, but there is a nice view of the rest of the city.

There’s nothing but silence from Jens until he releases a heavy sigh, and Lucas rests his head against his arms so he can look at him. “Your silence is a little concerning,” Lucas admits.

Jens only sighs again. “Sorry. I should be letting you have more fun than this. You probably didn’t come the whole way out here just for this.”

Lucas shrugs. “It’s really not that far. I probably would’ve come here anyway. You’re just like, a minor inconvenience.” Jens shoves him and he laughs, teetering dangerously to the side before Jens grabs him and pulls him back into place. Lucas doesn’t know if it’s only his imagination, but he thinks they’re a little closer than before. He bites his lip before saying, “It was either stay at home with the possibility of murdering my dad, or come to you. It wasn’t a hard decision.”

That earns a faint smile. Jens mirrors his position, now, and asks, “Is he really that bad?”

Lucas only shrugs. His parents in general are a topic he mostly works to avoid. Most of his friends back home know the story, more out of necessity or the fact it was impossible to hide rather than Lucas’s desire to tell them. He told himself one of the good things about coming here was that that could be different. He just wasn’t expecting Jens.

He was of course aware there would probably be numerous new crushes available, sure Antwerp wasn’t lacking in pretty boys. He just didn’t expect one to befriend him out of nowhere.

He certainly didn’t expect the crush to begin morphing into actual feelings, the kind he’s only ever harboured for Kes before now.

It’s the only explanation for why he says, “Probably not as bad as I make him sound. He was always an okay dad, but he ended up being a shitty husband and then seemed to decide the two titles went hand in hand. He ditched my mom and dragged me to another country with him because it was decided she couldn’t take care of me and I couldn’t take care of myself. It didn’t matter that a bunch of my friends offered to let me stay with them, or that I didn’t want to leave. Everything that’s happened in the past year just made me angry at him and now we can’t speak without me screaming at him and him dismissing or ignoring me. Or occasionally screaming back.”

He gives a wry smile and another shrug to go along with that, surprised at the relief that runs through him when Jens just nods in understanding. “Robbe went through something similar. He got into a flatshare, though, and I think he’s actual had a couple of civil meetings with his dad recently.”

Lucas’s smile turns a little more genuine. “Is that you telling me ‘it gets better’?”

Jens shrugs. “If that’s what you want to hear. Otherwise I can just tell you parents fucking suck and curse him to hell and back with you. But I’d rather not, because I know you hate it, but he brought you here. So.”

Lucas’s heart stutters in his chest. Jens says it much too casually, but he’s looking away again now, picking at a thread on his jeans before rubbing his hand over his knee. He only turns back at Lucas’s intake of breath, looking at him through his lashes. Lucas is disgusted at the amount of power this boy has over him already. He hates how weak it makes him feel, how untethered he is from everything but the warmth filling his chest. He’s falling hard and fast for a guy that will never return his feelings. For a guy that kissed his ex-girlfriend, well within Lucas’s sight, just two days ago. He’s ridiculous to think he has a chance. Idiotic. Completely mad.

It’s just that it’s hard to fully remember that when Jens looks at him like this.

His heart doesn’t really know how to deal with it at the moment, so he grins again. “So I should really feel lucky, because I’m just blessed to know you?”

Then Jens is grinning back at him, comfortable with the more familiar tone of their usual back and forth. “Obviously. Just imagine now, going back in time and having a choice. You couldn’t live without me.”

Lucas scoffs, because he’s right.

“Not that I’m against it, but why exactly are you hiding here?” Lucas questions after a moment, antsy with the way Jens is still looking at him and the length of the silence.

“I’m not hiding,” Jens denies. “The others were here earlier, and I didn’t feel like leaving yet. Decided to wait around so I could hang out with this pretty Belgian guy.”

Lucas narrows his eyes at him. “You know I’m not from here.”

Jens blinks. “Oh, you thought I was talking about you? No, no, this was supposed to be my alone time. I enjoy my own company.”

Lucas gawks, then punches him in the arm, though he’s unable to hide his amusement. Any and all joy from Jens is infectious, but there’s nothing Lucas adores quite like this genuine laughter, the quiet giggles that don’t seem entirely in his control. Then Jens strokes his hand dramatically down Lucas’s face, says, “No, of course it’s you, darling,” and Lucas stops working.

He manages to half-heartedly swat Jens’s hand away, about five seconds too late, and Jens just continues to laugh quietly at him. Lucas slumps against the back of the shelter, resting his head against the cool ridges, and watches Jens resume his earlier position, head pillowed on his arms and gazing back at Lucas with an unfair amount of fondness.

“I’m glad you’re not mad at me,” Jens says quietly. “I missed you yesterday.”

Lucas smiles. “I’m sorry I didn’t reply to you. I think I was a little mad, until a while ago. I got pretty used to Kes ditching me for his girlfriend, and it sucked, and I had other friends then. You’re kind of all I’ve got here. When it was just us beforehand I kinda forgot it wasn’t the same for you.”

Jens closes his eyes, shaking his head slightly. He blows out a breath and refocuses his gaze somewhere around Lucas’s chest. “Jana’s a bad habit I haven’t learned to quit yet. That’s the first and last time I crossed that line since we broke up. It would’ve been much better for me to stay with you. You’re good for me.”

Lucas raises a brow and feels that ridiculous flutter again. “Yeah?” Jens hums, nodding. Lucas doesn’t know why he says, “Why didn’t you, then? Stay with me, I mean.”

Jens licks his lips and Lucas can’t be blamed for how his attention is immediately drawn to his mouth. “Because I’m stupid. And I was scared. That I was getting stupid and I’d fuck things up with you, or you would get sick of me. My friends are pretty much limited to Jana and the boys, and it’s not like I can just hang out with Jana anymore. We tried at first but it—I think I needed a little more time than I gave myself then. Robbe’s busy with his new boyfriend, which I don’t begrudge him, because he deserves it and the guy’s hot. It’s fine with Moyo and Aaron, but they’re their own little duo, and I’m kinda sick of listening to them talk about all the girls they’re gonna hook up with but never do. I’m kinda sick of just. Being there.”

Lucas’s heart aches, and he hates himself a little. “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”

Jens huffs, smiling again. “Basically.”

Lucas gives him a sympathetic smile. This silence feels both comfortable and charged, and Lucas lets it linger a little longer before saying, “I’m kinda glad you’re stupid.” Jens raises his brows. “You probably never would’ve accidentally tagged me in that comment otherwise. Then I’d still be the weird loner new kid and that’d just be depressing.”

“Well, you’re kind of still the weird new kid. Just less of a loner.” Lucas rolls his eyes, but rewards him with the bit-down beginnings of a laugh. Jens’s voice is uncharacteristically soft when he adds, “I’m glad I was stupid, too. But I don’t think it matters that much.” Lucas furrows his brow at him, and he finishes, “I was always going to find you.”

That’s when the rain starts. Jens glances out of the shelter at the sound, which quickly grows deafening. He looks back at Lucas with an expression that can only mean ‘oops’. They’re stuck here for a while.

Lucas’s heart speeds up in that adrenaline fueled way that lets him know he’s about to do something very, very stupid. He gazes back at Jens, and he can’t manage more than a whisper to say, “Your ex was right.” Jens looks half-confused, half-hurt before Lucas says, “You are a very bad idea, Jens Stoffels.”

Then he kisses him.

He’s gratified when Jens doesn’t freeze, but responds instantly. His hands grasp Lucas’s shoulders before moving to cup his neck, dragging him closer. The hunger in his kiss matches Lucas’s, touch for touch, and Lucas finally allows himself to bury his hand in Jens’s hair and lick into his mouth.

The fact that he’s kissing a boy is pushed aside by the fact that he’s kissing Jens. It’s at least ten times more mind-blowing.

Jens is giving as good as he gets, clearly practiced in what they’re doing, and it sends a jolt down Lucas’s spine every time he tangles their tongues together and nips at his bottom lip. Jens’s hands don’t go far, settling against his neck or along his jaw or in his hair, but Lucas can’t stop his from roaming. They move from Jens’s hair to his face to his waist and back again, as hungry as his mouth and unable to get their fill. It’s more than he’s ever had and it still doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t satisfy the tug pulling at his stomach or fill the gaping well in his chest, desperate for this feeling he’s never been given enough of. His heart hurts with how much he wants it and with how real that want is. He can’t imagine ever having enough. He can’t imagine ever telling himself he doesn’t want this.

With how the boy is currently kissing him, Lucas feels like he’s never wanted anything as much as he wants Jens. He has the startling realisation that Kes is nothing but a fleeting thought in his mind. Right now, he can’t fathom wanting to be anywhere other than right where he is.

He’s suddenly giddy with it, grinning too much to really keep kissing properly, but Jens continues to press his lips to his, unrelenting even as his own grin spreads to match it. That laugh that Lucas adores bubbles out suddenly, and it only makes Lucas have to kiss him again. It really becomes impossible, then, so Lucas goes to pepper kisses over Jens’s face at the same time as Jens moves to kiss along his jaw, and they fall into a full fit of laughter, Jens collapsing into Lucas’s chest with his face scrunched up adorably. Lucas winds his arms around him and laughs into his hair, heart stuttering when Jens sneaks a kiss to his collarbone. Lucas tightens his arms around him and presses one to his hair.

Once they’ve calmed down, Jens shifts until they’re on the same level again. He turns towards Lucas and presses his forehead to Lucas’s before saying, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Lucas feels like he might burst.

This time, Jens kisses him.

[starkerkeyz]

Don’t Touch Peter Parker.

More SIM!Tony! I love him! Set in my SIM soulmates au 💖 Still dedicated to my starker bestie and awesome person that I love so much, @cagestark

Warnings; Murder, explicit violence, blood, NFF, D/s, SIM!Tony killing everyone that moves basically

.

The whole world knows Tony Stark has a soulmate. 

Nobody but Tony and Tony’s close and trusted associates (and Peter’s friends MJ and Ned) know who his soulmate actually is. Tony refuses to disclose Peter’s name to the press. Not until Peter allows Tony to create an Extremis formula that would work with his altered spider DNA. 

After tonight, Tony is going to have to rethink this strategy.

He repulsor blasts the guard on the left. His aim is iffy -the man’s upper torso disintegrates off center- but he’s cranked up the energy output with his seething anger so it’s a moot point. It’s just a little messier taking out part of the heart, anyway; now there’s blood everywhere and the guard on the right is about to scream. 

Tony snaps his hand forward, quick as a cobra, and grabs him by the jaw. He stares with mounting impatience and disgust into the rolling whites and blown, fear filled pupils. He reminds himself not to crush the bone beneath his hand to powder if he wants an answer. 

“Where. Is. My. Soulmate.” 

-

Tony likes to take time to admire his baby boy. He’s like a work of fine art that only Tony gets the pleasure of seeing. The party is starting in 20 minutes and Peter’s suit is carefully unbuttoned and spread open for him.

The placement of Peter’s soulwords between those sensitive nipples was divine. The words, colored in Tony’s signature silver and blue, were exquisite. The vibranium cuffs holding his enhanced soulmate’s wrists together, arms forward and framing the ‘Yes, Sir’ that started it all, made Peter look deceptively small and fragile. 

“Please please please please-”

A hand pulls on the cuffs, yanking the boy off his knees and onto his belly. Tony lets go and grinds his boot down into the small of Peter’s back, watching his thighs quiver open with a mewl as he’s pushed. Peter otherwise holds still, ready and waiting, letting Tony bend his body and manipulate him any way he wants. He’s flexible and strong enough to take whatever the man wants to give him. Best of all, he wants to take it.

Each rough twist of the nano armor boot drives Peter’s cock into the floor of the lab space they’ve commandeered and he knows he’s leaving a wet spot. The vibranium cuffs are pulled while the boot remains on Peter’s back and soon he’s pinned down with his arms stretched out in front of him, soulwords sensitive against the floor and hardened nipples rubbing into the cold tiling. 

Peter looks above his head; Tony had a spare serpentine cord of his nano tech controlling the cuffs and subsequently Peter’s arms, now. The Endo-Sym armor creeps down to pet at his wrists. It flows around and under the vibranium, testing out the give and the space, more than likely making sure it fit to Tony’s exacting standards. The thoughtfulness hidden beneath the possessiveness makes Peter smile, throat warm and hot in the back.

“Please what, sweetheart?” Tony leans over his knee like he’s surveying his work. Peter groans and then squirms his hips against the floor, Tony’s boot pinning him in such a way that he’s able to grind his dick into the tiles. Tony chuckles, low and dark, and grinds down harder. “You’re so horny for my cock you’ll hump the floor. Too bad you didn’t answer me.”

The nano tech pulls Peter up by the arms before he can scramble to answer and rectify that. The silver Endo-Sym armor holds him in place. Peter’s head swims from the abrupt change in angle and the lack of friction on his cock. 

Tony steps in front of Peter then and grips him by the chin. The silver tendril separates the two cuffs and reconnects them at the small of Tony’s back, cuffing Peter to the older man. Peter licked his lips, looking up at Tony through his lashes. 

“Please, let me have your cock, Daddy.” His hands grip fistfuls of Tony’s suit jacket but he doesn’t try pulling the man closer. Instead he shifts himself forward, nuzzling into his soulmate’s tented slacks. 

“What good manners for a needy boy.” Tony grins down at his slutty boy. He shifts; grabs Peter by the jaw now and flicks the button to his slacks with his free hand. He pulls his cock out and watches the way Peter’s lips part and his eyes fixate on the familiar length of it. “Good boys should be rewarded.”

Peter waits for it, mouth open. He knows better.

Tony tightens his grip on Peter, forcing his jaw lower. He swipes his thumb across his soulmate’s lower lip tenderly. Then he slides his cock in only enough for the cockhead to rest on Peter’s lip.

“Such a good boy for me, sweetheart. So patient even when you’re so thirsty for it.” Tony’s other hand is stroking himself. Pre-cum dribbles down his crown and paints Peter’s lip. Tony tightens his grip in warning when Peter’s tongue tries to flick out for a taste. “Wait for it. This is your reward for not answering me.”

He cums across Peter’s waiting tongue without ever letting him feel or take more of his cock than that one little touch at his lower lip. He pulls back before he’s begun to soften and forces Peter’s mouth closed with the hand on his chin. His eyes flare blue as the Endo-Sym collar slithers and tightens around Peter’s throat. 

“Swallow.” Tony orders. He watches Peter’s Adam’s apple bob and feels it through his psionic link with the collar at the same time. Tony’s dick twitches valiantly. He’s going to need to bring Peter to work and cuff him to Tony’s lap again; but this time under his desk. He’ll get him a pillow and let him rest his head on Tony’s thighs in between loads. 

“Think about how you could have been tasting my cock tonight.” Tony pushes his calf against Peter’s groin and feels how hard he is. He smirks down at the boy and pulls back just as Peter’s hips start pressing forward for more. “Think about how you could have gotten off against my leg just now. Think about the taste of me at the back of your throat when you’re speaking in front of all those people and sipping those cocktails tonight, baby. Because when we get home, I want you to tell me all about how hard it makes you to blow me right before giving a speech to powerful politicians and rich socialites alike.”

-

Tony reaches out and with a flick of his wrist he decapitates the man who dared touch his Peter Parker. The filthy mongrel lost any chance at redemption when he chose to lay a finger on Tony’s soulmate. 

He’s found the cell -a cell! His soulmate, kept in a cell!- and taken care of the three men and single woman posted outside indiscriminately, save for the man who physically touched Peter. The other three were merely hit with a repulsor blast to the heart. 

With the hallway cleared he breaks past the lock and finally lays eyes on his Peter. He’s hugged moments later by Peter jumping and clinging easily onto the sleek silver and blue Endo-Sym armor, all four limbs wrapped tightly around Tony. 

“You’re covered in blood.” Peter doesn’t stop hugging him. The hospital gown they’ve kept him is thin and doesn’t hide his shaking or how naked he is beneath it. Tony grips Peter by both hips and hauls him up until Peter wraps his legs around him and has to use his spider strength to hold onto Tony’s metal sides. Tony squeezes him in close, unwilling to let him go so soon. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I had to go through a few people to get to you.” Tony looks at Peter fondly, just holding him and drinking in the sight. He’s unable to resist the urge to run the bloodied fingers of his gauntlet through Peter’s hair. The armor is hard and sleek between Peter’s slender thighs. Tony’s always loved the size difference between himself and his soulmate and being fully suited up while Peter is wearing basically nothing exacerbates the contrast.

He watches Peter settle his weight and lean into Tony’s hand. His eyes close with a flutter and unconsciously Peter started rocking; grinding himself against Tony’s stomach armor. The silver Endo-Sym plating is quickly getting red smears all over the blue of the hospital gown. Tony leans in and kisses Peter, one bloody gauntlet still holding him by the hair as the other snakes around to his ass. 

“You shouldn’t- oh, oh...you shouldn’t kill people…” Peter bites at Tony’s mouth in reproach. It’s a topic they’ve disagreed on since it became apparent. It doesn’t stop Peter from rolling his hips more openly when Tony starts leading him with the hand squeezing appreciatively. 

“I’ll kill anyone who touches you without your permission.” Tony says, low and dark. He thinks about the security footage of the man’s hand wrapped around Peter’s wrist. He thinks about the severed head he left in the hallway, several body lengths apart from its neck. He thinks about the blood shining on Peter’s skin wherever he's touched his soulmate.

He knows he’d do it again.

“I can...I can…I.” Peter’s head tips to the side and Tony pauses, looking into his eyes. They’re blown and hazy; more so than they were just five minutes ago. Unnaturally so. He likely hasn’t eaten or drank anything on top of whatever drugs the dead men seem to have slipped him. 

“I’m taking you home, sweetheart.” Tony decides for the both of them. Peter tightens his thighs and whines, kitten soft, against Tony’s throat. 

“Please, Daddy, can I...I’ve thought about you...about your cock and your...taste at the back of my throat. I’ve been good.” Peter’s whining and slurring and he can’t stop humping against Tony’s Iron Man suit. His level of coherency keeps coming in and out. Whatever they gave him isn’t reacting right with the altered DNA. Instead of knocking him out or generally subduing him, all it’s done is make him feel high and uncoordinated and unbearably horny. 

“Take what you need, baby. I know I promised you my leg but you can cum this way too, right? For me?” Tony says as he starts walking out of the massacred compound. He keeps talking to his young soulmate as they go. Peter doesn’t notice the bodies or the carnage with his eyes closed in pleasure, hanging on Tony’s every praise and command. 

“Daddy, I wish I...I could feel you. Right now.” Peter tightens his legs again but this time he forgets himself and nearly dents the armor. Tony flicks his eyes to the warning display only he can see and smiles wickedly at the load out. His baby boy is ridiculously strong and at the thought of how much pressure he exerted to make Tony’s armor warn about impending damage? 

Tony wishes he could be inside of Peter right now, too. 

“Later, sweetheart. When we’re home. For now, you’ll have to wait; or you can get off rutting against my armor.” Tony squeezes Peter’s ass and kisses his neck lightly. The armor groans around him and alarms blare at the corners of his eyes as Peter clamps down and bucks.

“Daddy, please, please; yes! Thank you. I’ve always. Always wanted to fuck this armor.” Peter babbled, high and riding Tony like they were already home safe and sound and not miles from civilization in the place he’d been kidnapped. Tony ignores the alarms going off across his psionic link and kisses Peter again.

He feels Peter’s physical strength pressing in on him, challenging the armor and pushing his tech to the limits. His cock lengthens in his pants at the same time the metal around his ribs warps enough to leave bruises. 

Peter creams the torn hospital gown and Tony’s armor without needing any more stimulus than Tony’s voice in his ear and Tony’s body beneath his cock. He lets out a soft sigh and nuzzles under his soulmate’s chin, eyes closed in bliss. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Any time, sweetheart.” Tony looks down at his baby-boy with a small smile. He wipes a smear of blood off Peter’s forehead and then kisses his temple. Tony’s eyes flash blue but his words stay gentle in tone. 

“I’ll always protect you, Peter Parker.”

[aggieadventuress]

I’m Okay, I Promise. Except I’m Lying.

by @aggieadventuress for @romeoandjulietyouwish for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark

Summary: 5 times Peter told Tony he didn’t want to be touched +1 time Tony didn’t listen.

Read on ao3:

Peter jolted awake in bed, panting from the adrenaline of his nightmare and soaked with sweat. He tried to orient himself but he hadn’t smacked his head on the top bunk like normal and clearly this wasn’t his bed, it was too soft. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the city outside their apartment walls and he felt completely lost for a few moments before realizing that he was in the guest bedroom at Mr. Stark's lake house. Because it had been 5 years, and he didn’t have a set of bunk beds in their apartment in Queens. Because May didn’t live in that apartment anymore, she lived in Manhattan. With Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark’s head of security but more importantly, her boyfriend.

He was staying at the lake house for the summer while May and Happy were off on some relief worker trip. As bad as things were in New York after the second snap, a lot of countries were even worse off and May, ever the philanthropist, had to help. She originally wasn't going to go when her hospital brought up the opportunity, worried about Peter, but he assured her he would be fine because he didn't want to stand in the way of her helping people who really needed it. He was fine, or was at least close to fine. Or, he was getting to be close to fine.

Peter could not let himself spiral further into his state of panic, it was hard enough to breathe already, he needed to focus on doing that right now. He stared down into his lap, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. In and out, that’s all he needed to do.

Peter was so focused on controlling his breathing that he didn’t hear the creak of the door as someone walked into his bedroom. He felt the dip of the bed next to him though and turned his head to the side to verify who he already knew it was.

Mr. Stark was wearing plaid pajama pants and a worn AC/DC shirt and had clearly actually been asleep, which was so different from the man Peter had known before the snap. Before Mr. Stark would have been wide awake, wired on caffeine and inventing something crazy in his lab, but that just showed how much had changed.

Before either of them had time to speak, a bleary-eyed Morgan appeared in the doorway.

“Peter? Daddy? Are you okay?” Morgan asked, drowsily rubbing a fist at one of her eyes still half-asleep.

“I’m fine Morgs, I’m sorry for waking you up,” Peter replied, his stomach clenching with guilt for disturbing her.

“You didn’t wake me up, Daddy did. He was being loud in the hallway talking to Friday so I wanted to see,” Morgan said.

That didn’t make Peter feel much better, because whether he had directly woken Morgan or Friday and Tony had woken her up while discussing him, which is what he assumed would have been happening, it was still his fault.

Morgan came into the room and crawled up on the bed on the side of Peter that Tony wasn’t occupying. “Did you have a bad dream?” She asked innocently and then without waiting for a response, “I have bad dreams sometimes. You should ask daddy for a hug. That will fix it.” Morgan spoke pragmatically as if the solution to all of Peter’s problems was that simple.

“Kids right, I’ve been known to have pretty spectacular hugs. Can scare away all of the monsters within a three-mile radius,” Tony deadpanned, but his tone was betrayed by the small smile on his face.

Morgan nodded vehemently in agreement with her dad’s statement. “It’s true,” she added seriously, “I’ve never once seen a monster while daddy was holding me. I’ve never even felt scared if I was in his arms.”

“I have,” Peter muttered under his breath, thinking it was too quiet to hear and still staring at his sheets so he didn’t see the absolutely crestfallen look on Tony’s face at his confession. Tony knew immediately what Peter was talking about. The kid had dissolved in his arms on an alien planet and no amount of hugging would ever make the fear from that memory go away.

“Could I at least try?” Tony asked, moving in for a hug, but pausing when Peter flinched and moved away from him.

“No thanks. I mean, I’d rather you didn’t…I mean, I’m fine. I really don’t want a hug right now. I actually could use a little bit of space. A few minutes, just to myself. Please.”

Tony dropped his arms slowly to his sides and stood from the bed. “Of course, whatever you need Peter. But it’s a standing offer, free hugs whenever you want them. Day or night. It’s the same for Morgan, I’m always available.

Peter nodded but his gaze had returned to his lap. Tony reached out a hand as if to pat him on the shoulder but then thought better of it. He wasn’t a psychologist but after all of the trauma Peter had been through, he figured it was a completely valid response to want space right now. He needed to respect that, as much as it killed him to watch his kid suffer. He just wanted to pull him into his arms and hold him tight until all of his pain melted away, but that wasn’t an option if it wasn’t what Peter wanted.

“Well, I’m going to take the princess…” Tony started to say.

“I was promoted to Prime Minister daddy, you know that,” Morgan interrupted exasperated.

“Sorry, of course. I am going to take the Prime Minister back to her own bed now, do you think you can try to get back to sleep?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded into his lap again and Tony couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped him seeing how dejected Peter was.

“Right,” He said, not believing Peter for a second, “well if you can’t, let me know and we can watch a movie or something. I hear 2 am is the best time to watch Star Wars.” When even that didn’t elicit more than a grunt of response, he knew it was time to let it go and give Peter the space he so clearly wanted.

“Come along Madame Prime Minister,” Tony said, scooping Morgan into his arms and carrying her through the door.

“I answer to your Royal Lordship now,” Peter heard Morgan explain from the hallway on the way back to her room.

“I’ve been thinking that I should take over the world. I think people would be a lot happier as my royal subjects then they are right now. And Gerald has said he would be my Vice Queen and I think he’d do a pretty good job. Mommy can be an advisor and I think you would make a very good royal train conductor. Did you know that an engineer is another word for a train conductor?”

“Thanks, Morgana, but I think you should wait until your a little older to start planning your world domination. Mull it over a bit more. It’d be awfully time consuming and I don’t know that you’d have time to host your famous tea parties.”

“Your probably right. I’m much too busy to be a ruler right now.”

Peter lay back in his bed, still wide-awake, staring at his ceiling and listening to the conversation Tony and Morgan were having as the man tried to put her back to bed. He ached to let the man hold him and comfort him like he did Morgan. He wanted to let his mentor wrap his arms around him like some sort of shield from the realities of the world. But he couldn’t have that. He was too broken and too damaged to let Tony touch him - to let anyone touch him right now. If he gave in and let Tony hold him, Peter knew that little bit of comfort would make him fall apart and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to put himself back together again.

He was caught up in his own self deprecating thoughts and didn’t immediately notice when Tony reappeared in his doorway.

“So what’s the plan, sleep or movie? I am absolutely down for either,” Tony offered quietly.

“I’ll just go back to sleep I think. Thanks for the offer though,” Peter answered, exhaustion making his voice sound hoarse.

Tony looked at him appraisingly, seemingly trying to decide if he was going to let this go or if he was going to push the issue. “Okay, well if you need anything, just come get me, or if you don’t want to, ask Friday. I don’t usually sleep much anyway so don’t worry that you might wake me, I’ll probably be working or something anyway,” Tony tried to comfort Peter, but he saw through the offer. He knew Tony actually did sleep now that he had his own kid and a somewhat normal life, but he appreciated that the lie was supposed to help ease his guilt.

Tony hesitated in the doorway and then turned to go. He stopped a few steps into the hallway and turned back to look at Peter. Peter met his eyes for the first time that night.

“Peter, you can talk to me about anything,” Mr. Stark’s voice was pleading, “You know that, right?”

Peter nodded and then moved to lay back down under his covers and added, “I’m okay, I promise.”

- 2 -

It was Friday and Peter had been at the lake house for five days and hadn’t slept through the night for any of them. He had explicitly told Friday not to inform Mr. Stark when he had a nightmare but either she hadn’t listened, or the man had some sort of sixth sense because he would always come. Before Peter could orient himself and catch his breath, Mr. Stark would be there. They had fallen into a routine of sorts; the man would sit next to him in silence for a few minutes while Peter collected himself. If Peter was having a lot of trouble, Mr. Stark would breathe really deeply, slowly, encouraging Peter to copy him. Once he had calmed down a bit, Mr. Stark would ask him if he wanted to talk and Peter would always say no. After the second night when Mr. Stark had tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Peter had violently flinched away and ended up tumbling out of his bed, Mr. Stark had kept his distance. Peter wanted to scream in frustration at how much he wanted to give in and just accept a stupid hug, but he couldn’t. Mr. Stark would always offer to stay with him or to go down to the living room or something, but Peter always sent him away, and the man always reluctantly listened.

Apparently, Friday night was movie night, and Morgan had made it very clear that his participation was not optional, no matter how exhausted he was, so that is how Peter found himself standing just outside the living room on the verge of a complete panic attack. The Starks were all sitting on the couch, Morgan between Pepper and Tony, and they had clearly left a space for him on Tony’s other side. Fortunately, everyone was focused forward on the television discussing the movie selection so no one noticed Peter staring at the couch and having an internal freak-out about whether or not he could actually handle sitting that close to Mr. Stark.

Finally, he decided to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the room and made to walk over there. His movement caught Tony’s eye.

“Hey kid, come sit with us,” he offered, patting the empty cushion next to him.

“Yah Petey, come sit with us,” Morgan echoed.

“No thank Morgs,” Peter opted to respond to her instead of Tony, hoping it would be easier. “I take up a lot of space so I’m going to claim this whole chair for myself.”

Morgan squinted her eyes and stared at him as if trying to assess if this was an acceptable explanation or if she found his “a lot of space” determination to be accurate. He must have passed her inspection because she didn’t look happy, but she eventually nodded and turned back toward the TV.

Tony was not so easy to appease and the man stared at Peter with a questioning look in his eyes. Peter wanted to tell him that he was afraid to sit next to him in case he relaxed too much and fell asleep. He was afraid that if he curled up in that corner of the couch, so close to the protective embrace of his mentor, he might be able to breathe a little better and abate his anxiety just for a bit. If he let himself sleep, he would dream, and if he dreamt, he’d be on Titan again and he just couldn’t handle it right now. He had adjusted to the near constant state of tension in his body and knew better than to all of a sudden let himself relax.

He broke eye contact with Mr. Stark, settled into the arm chair, and turned to face the TV. Now that he was seated Morgan instructed Friday, “Play the Incredibles, Friday!” And the movie started.

Peter could barely focus on the screen because he was so tired. Despite his distance, he could hear the comforting, steady beating of Mr. Stark’s heart underneath the noise of the movie. Combined with the dim lighting in the room and the very comfortable chair he was curled up in, keeping his eyes open was a battle. Each blink lasted a bit longer than the one before until his eyes slid shut and stayed closed.

The moment he drifted to sleep in the Stark’s living room, he ‘awoke’ in the dark void of the soul stone. Alone. Completely alone. The nightmare tormented him with the feeling of dust coating his nose and mouth, with the sticky heat from his suit and with the familiar panic of being lost and abandoned in a sea of nothing. He had no concept of how much time passed in his dream, but in the midst of the nothingness, he felt an arm beneath his knees and another under his back, and then he was being lifted in the air. Peter abruptly awoke from his dream and jerked away from whatever was holding him and tumbled to the ground, his head smacking into the wooden floor with a loud ‘crack.’

“Christ kid, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Tony dropped to his knees next to Peter, his hands reaching out for the boy to check for injuries before he stopped himself and put them up in the air in front of him as if to show he meant no harm. “The movie was over and you were asleep. You’ve looked so tired lately and I didn’t want to wake you. I was just going to carry you up to your own bed. I thought that would be more comfortable. Pepper just took Morgan upstairs. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize you were having a nightmare. Although I should have guessed.” Tony said the last part more to himself.

Peter was still lying on the ground but pushed himself up so he was resting on his elbows. “It’s not your fault. Thanks for waking me, I can take myself to bed though,” Peter said and then pushed himself the rest of the way up. He swayed on his feet for a few moments and Tony’s hand hovered just below his elbow, ready to catch him, but he regained his balance after a moment.

“Peter,” Tony’s voice sounded desperate as he pled with Peter, “I want to help you. I know that you have been through so much, so much more than anyone should ever have to go through, please. Talk to me, let me help.”

Peter shook his head and started to walk toward the stairs, to go upstairs and lie awake in his own bed since he was certain there would be no sleeping for the rest of the night. “I appreciate it Mr. Stark, but I just need sleep, that’s all. Nothing wrong.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark started again but Peter didn’t allow the man to continue. He glanced behind him before continuing upstairs and assured Tony, “I’m okay, I promise.”

- 3 -

Morgan spent all of breakfast on Saturday pestering Tony about going down to the lake to swim because it was a "bazillion and six degrees daddy" and she absolutely wouldn't survive the heat. Tony had protested that he had work to do, and as much as he'd like to go swimming, she would have to wait until later that afternoon so that he could watch her.

Peter was passively listening to their conversation, picking at the waffles on his plate, so exhausted that he didn't even feel hungry. Tony had been eyeing his still very-full plate but so far had not commented on it.

"I can take her," Peter heard himself offering, not entirely sure what compelled him to say that.

Tony looked at him with surprise, "Are you sure? You don't have to, she won't actually die, I assure you."

"Sure," Peter said. He had made the offer and Morgan had perked up considerably from her moping at his suggestion, he wasn't going to back out on her now. It wasn't her fault that he couldn't sleep and that he constantly felt like there was electricity running through his body from persistent anxiety.

"Daddy!" Tony was standing in the kitchen and heard his daughters scream coming from down by the lake. He dropped the plate he was holding and didn't even register as it shattered on the ground next to him, he was already out the door and running down to the dock.

He was pressing buttons on his watch, calling a medical suit to himself in preparation for whatever he was about to encounter. He wouldn't even let himself think of what could be waiting for him and all the hazards that swimming in the lake presented.

His heartbeat slowed just slightly as he approached the dock and saw both his kids were safely on dry land, alleviating his deepest fear that he had refused to admit, that he would find one of his kids drowning in the lake because he had been too 'busy' to come down here with them. He would never forgive himself it that ever happened and vowed that no one would go near the water again without him present. Him and a suit standing by for whatever emergency might present itself. He could plan for all that later though, right now he needed to determine what had caused his daughter panic.

As soon as Morgan caught sight of him, she ran to meet him and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward Peter. There were tear tracks running down her face and she was hiccupping through her own sobs.

"Something is wrong with Petey," she cried, "I asked him to jump off the dock with me and then as soon as we got in the water he started freaking out. He pulled us both out and he's just been sitting there crying and breathing real hard. He won't answer me and he pushed me when I tried to hug him," Morgan sobbed even harder.

"It's okay," Tony tried to soothe as they came up next to Peter, "Can you please go wait for me on the porch Morgs? I don't want you near the water and I want to be able to help Peter without worrying."

Morgan nodded, though she seemed uneasy about leaving Peter.

"Mommy is on her way home," Tony soothed her. Pepper would have gotten a notification as soon as he activated a medic suit and would probably be flying home in her own as they spoke.

“In fact," Tony thought, "Why don't you take my phone and call Mommy and talk to her. She is headed back but might be a little bit worried and will want to hear from you that you are okay." Tony pulled his phone out, Friday would have already let Pepper know everyone was okay, but it couldn’t hurt. Morgan took the phone and looked at Peter's trembling form with fear in her eyes before running toward the cabin.

With one less thing to worry about, Tony turned to the shaking kid in front of him. For the most part, Peter sat motionless except for the trembling in his shoulders. Not wanting to startle him, Tony moved around to get in front of him and in his line of sight before getting down on his knees to be on eye level.

His heart broke as he took in the sopping wet hair on Peter's head and the lake water mixing with tears as it dripped down his face.

"Hey Pete," He tried to be as gentle as possible, "are you with me? Can you tell me where you are?"

Peter continued to just stare directly ahead, eyes glazed over, not really looking at Tony, but past him and over the water. Tony very slowly reached out to place a hand on Peter's shoulder, but as soon as he made contact, Peter jolted into awareness and practically leapt backward to get away from him. Tony saw the glazed over look had been replaced with wild-eyed terror and he sat motionless, hands held up in front of him trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, waiting for Peter to recognize his surroundings.

After a few moments, the heaving breaths in Peter's chest slowed and his gaze stopped wandering around and settled on Tony.

"Hey bud, Are you with me now?" Tony tried again, keeping his voice soft and slowly lowering his hands, keeping them in view still in an attempt to be as non-threatening as possible.

Peter waited a moment, giving Tony an assessing gaze before nodding almost imperceptibly.

"That's really good. Can you help me understand what happened?" Tony cajoled.

Peter paused again before shaking his head and then softly adding, "I'm fine."

Tony had to hold back a snort at such a blatant lie from the kid, but it wouldn't do him any good to make Peter feel belittled.

"Is Morgan okay? I didn't mean to scare her," Peter added, finally looking up to meet Tony's eye.

"Morgan is completely fine. She just wanted to make sure you were okay. She's with Pepper."

Peter wasn't completely sure how it had happened, but the moment his feet his the water he was back in the lake, wrapped in a parachute and drowning. His brain stopped working but some instinct kicked in and the next thing he knew he was pulling himself and Morgan out of the lake, much to Morgan's displeasure.

"Petey, why'd we get out?" Morgan asked, the pout on her face evidence in her voice.

Peter tried to reply to her but all that came out was a wheezing breath and then he wasn't sitting on the dock anymore. He was drowning again or floating in nothingness as dust. His body was on fire from the pain of turning to dust, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen. He was too far gone to hear Morgan screaming for her dad. It wasn't until he felt the hand on his shoulder that he came back to awareness and jumped back out of reach of whoever might be trying to hurt him. He looked around frantically to make sure Morgan wasn't nearby and in any danger from this attacker but eventually his gaze settled on Tony and he realized that the threat was all in his head. He should have known that his spidey-sense would have warned him if there was a true threat and it had been nearly silent since he'd arrived here. The buzz of his anxiety was his only companion right now.

He registered it was Tony in front of him and felt an overwhelming urge to just run and collapse into his arms and let his mentor comfort him, but he couldn't. He craved the comfort he knew Tony would provide, but he couldn't accept it. He was so on edge, he was terrified of letting the man get close only for Peter to panic and lash out and hurt him. So he tried to push him away physically and emotionally. It was better for them both that way.

"Let's get you warmed up," Tony said, holding out a hand to help Peter up, but the kid ignored him and stood, somewhat shakily on his own. They walked up toward the house together, Tony keeping one hand behind Peter, making sure not to touch him but wanting to be prepared if he stumbled. When they got inside Tony led Peter upstairs to his and Pepper's room. Peter hesitated in the doorway before following him in. He pulled out the fluffiest towels that they had and draped one around Peter's shoulders. He made to use the other to towel off the kid's hair, but as soon as Peter registered his intent, he was ducked out of the way.

"I can do that," Peter said. Tony wanted to scream but held it back and tried to keep his face neutral.

"Are you sure? Because I really don't mind," Tony tried one last time.

"Yes," Peter said vehemently.

Tony relinquished the towel and stood back as helplessly as Peter dried his curls somewhat awkwardly with one towel while trying to hold the other one around his shoulders. Tony finally decided he needed to be helpful and went to get some warm clothes out of Peter's room. The kid still didn't have very much, and Tony made a mental note to order him more clothes, before returning to his own room to supplement the kid's things with his own sweat pants and hoodie.

He held out the clothes to Peter once it was clear the kid had accomplished all he was going to getting dry by himself and Peter disappeared into the bathroom to change. Tony sat down on the bed while he waited.

When Peter reappeared looking even younger than he was, if that was possible, wearing Tony's clothes, Tony tried to bring up the conversation again.

"Hey, kid. We don't have to talk about it, but if you want to, I'm here. There's nothing to be ashamed of, you have been so brave and you have every right to get a little freaked out by the water," Tony tried to start the conversation. But Peter wasn't having it.

Peter shook his head no and replied, "I'm okay, I promise,"

- 4 -

It was July before he knew it and a month had passed at the lake. Peter was actually enjoying his time at the lake - playing with Morgan, working on tech with Tony, having family dinners - but he still couldn’t sleep and he still couldn't get to close to his mentor without feeling like he was going to dissolve. Tony knew something was wrong and kept trying to broach the subject, but Peter refused to talk about it and Tony never got frustrated or pushed him. He steadily reminded him that he wasn't going anywhere and would be there when Peter was ready to talk.

Peter felt on edge the whole day and couldn’t pinpoint why. He tried to push it aside and enjoy the hamburgers they grilled and the shortcake that Pepper had baked. As darkness fell, they moved from the patio table down to some lounge chairs facing the lake and settled in for the show.

The first firework burst in the sky just a moment before the noise of the explosion. That almost unnoticeable delay between the speed of light and the speed of sound. It was there though, a fraction of a second for Peter to enjoy the beauty of the firework before the sound caused his head to erupt into pain and his mind to start spiraling into the bad place.

All of a sudden he was no longer at the lake, he was on a battlefield, fighting against aliens who they had already lost to once. There was a cacophony of violence around him and Peter couldn’t stop to process it because he had to keep fighting. His life and half of the population of the world depended on it.

More fireworks went off and Peter collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself with his head between his knees and his hands clawing at his ears trying to block out some of the sounds. A hand reached out to touch him and it felt like fire coming in contact with his skin. His senses were out of control and he could count the fibers in the shirt he was wearing and the blades of grass beneath his legs. He heard screaming and then realized that the noise was coming from him.

Peter fought against the stars in his vision, trying not to pass out from the pain in his head, and then something metal brushed his hair and a helmet was placed over his head. Immediately, the world dulled. The noise of the fireworks was muffled, the light from the moon and the fireworks was dimmed to nearly black. Peter let out a shuddering breath, trying to get ahold of himself and then slowly lifted his eyes, looking through the lenses of the iron man helmet to see Tony squatting in front of him with a look of panic on his face. When Tony realized that Peter was looking at him, he mimed standing up and going into the house and then tilted his head at Peter to make it a question. Peter nodded, which felt odd in the bulky helmet and painfully got to his feet. Mr. Stark didn’t try to help him after his touch had elicited such a pained scream earlier, but he hovered close by in case he was needed.

Slowly, they made their way back into the house, Peter flinching every time another firework went off despite the silencing effects of the helmet. Once they were through the door Tony led him down the hall to the room he was staying in and then directly into the closet. Peter wasn’t sure why, but noticed the complete darkness of the space and thought it was as good of a place as any. Out of nowhere Mr. Stark produced a set of noise-canceling headphones and a pair of very dark sunglasses and held them out to Peter. Peter didn’t look forward to removing the helmet but knew it would be more comfortable to have the headphones on. The less coming into contact with his skin, the better.

Slowly he lifted the helmet, surprised how well the closet was blocking the noise, though it was still too much to hear. Quickly, he exchanged the helmet for the headphones and the glasses and settled them on his face. Then he sunk down to the floor, curling back in on himself and trying to touch as little as possible to his skin.

He couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes. The salt burned on his oversensitive skin but that did nothing to stop him. He just kept his head down let himself silently cry. He wanted nothing more than to let Tony shield him from all the noise and light and fear, he knew being touched would be excruciating. Instead, they just sat there in darkness for what seemed like hours. Eventually, Peter’s senses dulled back to a more manageable state and after looking to Tony for confirmation that the outside world would be quiet, Peter eased the headphones off his head and was met with blessed silence.

“Hey,” Tony spoke so quietly that Peter wouldn’t have been able to hear him without his enhancements, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Peter answered automatically.

“Kid,” Tony tried again, still gentle but clearly not believing him, “after everything that has happened, I should have thought about the effect explosions might have. That’s on me. Your response was valid and I’m sorry to have triggered that. If you want to talk about it, with me, or even with someone else,” Tony tried to offer but Peter cut him off.

“It isn’t anything big, it was just a lot for my senses. Enhanced hearing and whatnot,” Peter tried to justify, seeing the incredulous look on Mr. Stark's face but knowing the man wouldn't openly challenge him on this. He was pretty sure Mr. Stark saw right through him, but he wasn't ready to admit to anything yet. “I don’t need to talk about it. I’m okay, I promise.”

- 5 -

Pepper and Tony were both tied up on phone calls and Peter had offered to make Morgan lunch. Morgan had begged him to let her help and he had thought asking her to pick out some fruit to go with her sandwich wouldn't be so bad. He should have realized that any kid of Tony's would go the extra mile and end up in trouble, and instead of deciding on a fruit, Morgan had retrieved an apple from the counter and somehow got ahold of a knife and was attempting to cut it herself. Peter could swear his back was only turned for a second and next thing he knew, she had climbed onto the counter and was waving the knife around the air pretending it was a sword and apple in front of her was an unruly subject of the crown being beheaded (he thought he heard her use the word guillotine but couldn't be sure and had no idea where she would have picked it up but chose to let that part go for nowHey Morgs, you aren't supposed to be using a knife," Peter tried to keep his voice calm and friendly, not wanting to be mean or to startle Morgan.

"Oops," Morgan looked at him sheepishly, obviously knowing she was doing something she wasn't supposed to.

"Hand it over kid," he said, holding out a hand for the knife. Morgan moved to give it to him but then there was a loud thud from upstairs. She whipped around to try and see the origin of the noise, and her sudden movement caused the knife to cut right through Peter's forearm.

He hissed out a breath at the sting which drew Morgans attention. She gasped when she saw what she had done and immediately dropped the knife, letting it fall to the floor, thankfully missing impaling Peter's foot by a couple of inches.

“I'm so sorry Petey," Morgan wailed, "I didn't mean to hurt you.”

"It's okay, Morgan. I'm fine, just a little scratch," Peter tried to console her while he wrapped a kitchen towel around his arm to staunch the flow of blood. Before he could figure out what the logical next step was, Tony appeared in the doorway, probably having heard Morgan's cries from upstairs. He had walked around the corner, still partially listening to someone on the phone, but the moment his eyes landed on Peter and countertop that was pretty well covered with blood, the phone slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"What happened!" Tony asked, moving quickly toward the two of them and eyeing Morgan up-and-down to check for injuries. Once he determined that her tears were only from emotional distress and not from physical harm, he moved his attention to Peter.

"Little mishap. It's my fault, I wasn't paying close enough attention. I'm so sorry," Peter stumbled over his words, trying to apologize for letting Morgan get her hands on a knife and putting her in harm's way.

Tony had been looking around the room for something and when his eyes landed on the bloody knife on the floor by Peter's foot. He looked between the knife and Peter's arm.

"Did your sister STAB you?" Tony asked, sounding confused and terrified as he looked between the knife and Morgan.

Peter was too out of it from blood loss and shock to even register that Tony had referred to Morgan as his sister, "No!" he exclaimed, "it was an accident."

Tony shook his head, "we will talk about this later. I want to hear the whole story," he said, more to Morgan than Peter, and she just nodded her head, tears still streaming down her face.

"Come on Pete, let's move up to the bathroom, that's where the first-aid kit is. Are you feeling light-headed? Can you walk okay? You can sit here, I can bring it down maybe. This is a lot of blood..." Tony trailed off, seeming to debate with himself if Peter was fit to walk.

"It's fine. I don't want to get blood on the carpets though," Peter replied, even though he was starting to feel a bit light-headed, he wasn't going to admit to it.

"I don't give a damn about the carpets, Peter. The very bottom of the list of things I care about actually. I was debating getting rid of them just because. I hope you get blood on them honestly, it would give me a good excuse," Tony half-joked, but he was still looking worried.

Tony reached out to put a hand on Peter's non-injured arm and to help him upstairs, but Peter instinctively moved away from the man before he could touch him. It was just a habit at this point.

"Right," Tony said, more to himself than to Peter, when he realized the kid wasn't going to let him help. "At least let me walk behind you so I can catch you if you pass out,"

Peter tried to determine if the man was joking, but the look on his face told him it was a serious request. Peter nodded and started to walk out of the kitchen, Mr. Stark following closely behind him.

At that moment, Pepper came around the corner, apparently having taken notice of the commotion in the kitchen. She quickly and silently assessed the situation before swooping in and picking Morgan up from the middle of the mess on the counter.

"Do you need any help," She asked Tony, there were unspoken questions hanging in her voice, but she wasn't going to pry while Peter was actively bleeding.

"I think we can manage," Tony replied, keeping his eyes on Peter.

"Okay, just yell if you need anything," She said, "I'm going to give Morgan a bath."

Peter continued out of the kitchen and up the stairs, using all of his energy to keep from swaying too much or from giving in and passing out. After what felt like an eternity, per Tony's instructions, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the Stark's master bathroom. He wanted to feel awkward to be in their room again, but he was fully distracted by his arm.

Tony fetched the first aid kit from under the cabinets and knelt down in front of Peter.

"Can I take the towel off and get a better look," Tony asked.

"Um, I can unwrap it," Peter offered, moving to do it himself.

Tony hissed when the last layer of towel came away and he could see the angry cut running up his arm.

"She really got you good there kid. I think you might need stitches," He mused.

"It's not as bad as it looked," Peter defended. "Besides, I heal fast."

Tony shook his head, "I still think you need stitches. We have everything to do it here so we don't even have to go to the hospital. Rhodey put as all through field-medic training. I can do them for you.”

Peter waited for Tony to finish and then gave a firm, "No. I can do it myself if I need to. I've done it plenty of time."

Tony just stared at him, seemingly unsure of what to say. "What do you mean you've done it plenty of times? When have you been stitching yourself up???" he finally asked.

Peter shrugged, wincing when it pulled at his cut, "I was out doing the hero thing before I met you. And you can learn just about anything on YouTube these days."

Tony looked horrified at the idea of a fourteen-year-old Peter stitching himself up after a rough patrol. "Are you sure you won't let me help?" he tried, "I promise I'll be gentle."

"No. I can do it." Peter said resolutely. Tony gave in and started taking things out of the kit and handing them to Peter. Disinfectant, gauze, a numbing gel that Peter was certain would accomplish nothing but that he used just to appease the other man. Finally everything was clean and Tony hesitantly handed over the suture kit.

"I really don't like this kid. Can we just go to the hospital instead? Or I can call Rhodey or Bruce or something?" He tried one last time.

"It's fine Mr. Stark, I can do it," Peter assured him.

Tony sat stoically while Peter sewed up his cut, flinching every time the needle pierced his skin as though it was him getting the stitches. Peter made quick work of the injury and was soon accepting a bandage from Tony and binding up his injury.

"Look, good as new," Peter said lightly, trying to alleviate that tension that had settled over the room while he worked.

Tony examined him closely, seeming to search Peter's face, but for what, he didn't know.

"Okay, how about we head down to the living room. You need to eat something for your spidey-metabolism and I don't want you taking pain meds on an empty stomach."

Peter stood from the tub and swayed a bit when he got to his feet. Mr. Stark moved to help him but stopped just short. "Can I help, please?" Tony asked.

Peter shook his head no. "I can walk on my own. I'm okay, I promise."

+1

Tony was growing increasingly concerned. Watching Peter fighting to pull himself out of panic attacks without accepting any help was torture. The kid was 15 but had been through more trauma than most adults and Tony just desperately wanted Peter to let him be a parent and help bear that burden for him.

He was so conflicted as to where the line fell between giving Peter the space he needed and following his cues as to what would be helpful versus seeing where it wasn't working anymore and he had to play the adult card and step in. Peter had been fighting this battle by himself for over a month and if the kid didn’t start to get some real sleep, Tony was going to have to call in Dr. Cho or Bruce to work on some drugs for him because he was dead on his feet.

Mind made up, Tony set out to look for Peter. He found him sitting at the end of the dock, feet dangling over the water, staring out at the horizon, and walked out to join him. He knew Peter could hear him approach but the kid was either too caught up in his own thoughts to notice, or he just didn’t care, because he didn’t make any move to acknowledge Tony’s presence. Tony took a lack of rejection as an invitation to join him and sat down next to his kid, leaving a few inches between them. He turned so he was sitting cross-legged facing Peter, with the water off to his side.

“Kid, whatever it is that you think you have to handle on your own, you don’t,” Tony started, pleading in his voice, “I would do anything for you. I would go through it all a hundred times so that you wouldn’t have to experience any of it once, but I can’t do that. And it kills me to watch you suffer alone,” Tony’s voice cracked and he felt his own tears falling now, “I am begging you, Peter, if you won’t let me in for yourself, please, do it for me. I need you to let me help you.”

Peter shook his head ‘no.’ He was still looking out over the water but spoke softly, “You don’t understand, I can’t. I can’t talk to you, I can’t let you touch me, I can’t let you help. I just can’t.” Peter’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Just leave me alone. That’s what I need right now.”

Tony’s heart broke into even more pieces if that was even possible. For a moment he wrestled with the idea of giving in to Peter, of listening to the kid's plea for space and respecting that, but despite what Peter was saying, Tony knew that wasn’t what he actually needed.

“I am not going anywhere, kid. Please. You don’t have to talk to me right now, but can I please at least give you a hug?” Tony ached to hug his kid after letting Peter push him away for so long.

Peter shook his head almost imperceptibly. He finally turned his head and met Tony’s gaze, each one staring into the other's tear-filled eyes until Peter finally broke eye contact. His head fell forward, chin to chest, and gut-wrenching sobs wracked his frame. Tony almost joined him in sobbing, he was so at a loss as to what to do, but then very slowly, he leaned in. He gave Peter time to push him away, he had heard the kids say he didn’t want a hug with his words and Tony didn’t believe that was actually what he wanted, but he still moved at a glacial pace. It felt like an eternity, but the kid’s forehead was finally resting on Tony’s chest and he couldn’t take it anymore. Tony placed one hand on the back of his kid’s head, holding him against his chest, and he wrapped his other arm around him and pulled Peter firmly into his lap. Peter didn’t pull away. He melted into the embrace and started to sob even harder. Tony held him tightly, running his fingers through the boy's curls and gently started rocking back and forth.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, clutching each other, Peter sobbing loudly while Tony had silent tears streaming down his own face. Finally, Peter’s sobs slowed and he lifted his own tear-stained eyes to meet Tony’s, not moving from the man’s embrace.

“Tony,” Peter’s voice broke saying his name, “I think I need help.

Tony hugged Peter tighter if that was possible. “Okay,” he replied, his own voice thick with tears, “whatever you need, I am here.

“I’m so tired. I just want to sleep without having nightmares and not be afraid anymore,” Peter sniffed as he spoke, he was no longer sobbing but tears were still flowing freely down his face.

“I will never let anything else happen to you if I can help it. I know I can’t protect you from everything, but I swear I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” Tony told him.

Peter nodded, “I feel like I’ll be afraid forever,” he confessed.

Tony hugged him tighter, “I know it feels like that but, but you have to trust me that eventually, you’ll be okay. I promise.”