#their only recent one was at Karen’s lab and I want MORE

[can-i-get-a-yippee]

I think HenRen needs more life-death angst,,,, gimme a disaster situation where Denny and Mara are alone in a disaster and Karen and Hen are fighting through chaos to get to them,,,, Karen being at home with their kids and a knock at the door from a police officer informing her there’s been an accident,,, the 118 showing up to a car accident and recognizing Karen’s car, nearly destroyed, at the scene

[duck-in-a-thrift-store]

Prologue? Pilot? IDK Man I Just Work Here

(part 1.2)

{hey so uhhhh

i have finals coming up and its the last week of classes and im lowkey failing two of mine right now, so unfortunately im going to have to go on hiatus for a bit- even though i literally just started, ugh- while i try to catch up and deal with... all that

that said, ive decided to split the prologue up into three parts instead of two and just go ahead and give you what ive got so far of the rest of it

this and the third (and hopefully final) segment is where we really start setting up/contextualizing the "full house" premise of the fic

link to part 1.1 here}

~~~

So, over the next several weeks, they come up with a plan.

Most of them aren’t exactly happy about the plan, but… oh well.

The parents are determined to move their children- who have proven themselves to be prime targets for the supernatural- out of town, to relocate them somewhere they’ll be well-removed from the apocalypse unfolding in Hawkins. Caught up to speed about the history of Hawkins Lab and Owens’s involvement in everything, they all but order him to help with the arrangements.

And he delivers. Calls are made, blueprints are drawn, and before they know it, a plot of land has been secured two thousand miles away in California for a house to be built on. And it’s going to have to be a pretty big house, considering it’ll be home to six teenagers and a pre-teen.

The kids are dead set on not being separated again; it’s one of their conditions for agreeing to leave. Steve can’t blame them, honestly. After everything they’ve been through together, he doesn’t want to be apart from them either. In fact, he’s been feeling a bit paralyzed by the thought, has had a little trouble breathing since the move was decided.

He’s sort of out of it the next time everyone gathers at the hospital to hash out the details, to be honest, but in his defense, his head isn’t quite what it used to be before all the hits he’s taken in recent years.

But then the ongoing discussion turns to who will look after the kids, and well, that certainly gets his attention.

There’s a military blockade taking shape around the area, keeping the threat contained- but also the citizens. It’s only through Owens’s connections and influence that they’ll be able to sneak the kids out, and just that in itself is going to be risky. As much as they’d like to, they can’t take everyone.

The parents have agreed to join the resistance that’s starting to form, a force of townsfolk who have finally realized what’s really happening and are banding together to find a solution, or at least hold off the Upside Down from taking over for as long as they can. Hopper and Joyce have taken it upon themselves to teach everyone as much as they can about what they’re up against, and a few of the others are helping out with pooling resources and organizing community childcare.

For various reasons, their families won’t be coming along.

“Who’s going to take care of you all?” Sue asks, her question directed more towards the room at large than the kids themselves. “None of you are older than fifteen; I don’t want you out there on your own with no adult supervision.”

Karen starts to say something, probably about how she doesn’t intend to let Nancy stay behind either, that there will definitely be at least one person over fifteen present, but Steve cuts her off in his eagerness. He practically jumps out of his seat, actually, but he’s held in place by his desperate grip on the sheets of the hospital bed he’s still stuck in until he’s done recovering from the demobat bites.

“I’ll do it!”

Once again, all eyes are on him, and they’re broadcasting confusion, surprise- in the case of the parents, that is. The kids mostly look relieved. None of them will say it- the little shits- but he’s pretty sure they were just as worried about leaving him behind as he was about sending them away.

Claudia tilts her head at him in question. “You? What, by yourself?”

Steve figures the faintly bitter disbelief in her voice has less to do with him and more to do with Dustin’s deadbeat dad, so he chooses not to take it to heart. But before he can make a remark about how some men are actually interested in fatherhood- although he’s not entirely sure what his brain even means by that- Karen Wheeler speaks up.

“Not by himself, no. What I was about to say a moment ago was that Nancy is going too. I don’t want my daughter staying here after being involved with all this pretty much since the beginning. But, Steve, even then, you’re hardly adults yourselves- Nancy only just graduated high school last week. I don’t think you two should be left to basically parent seven kids all alone; it’s too much responsibility.”

(While she does have a point, and he’s certainly not opposed to having Nancy out of harm’s way, it’s also important to note that the daughter in question is currently busy giving shooting lessons to a sizable portion of the resistance. Nancy is no stranger to responsibility, but she isn’t exactly the motherly type, either. Regardless, Steve wants both roles for himself- at least on a subconscious level. He’s not quite aware of it yet, his rightful place as both mom and dad to the party, but… he’ll get there. He thinks of himself more as a glorified babysitter, really, but it is a position he takes very seriously nowadays.)

Mistaking Steve's spacey expression for something else, Dustin mutters smugly beside him, “I bet you would looove that.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shoots back, “Can it, kid. We’ve been over this. Nance and I are not getting back together.”

Nancy and Jonathan broke up after her graduation, for reasons which Steve has decided are none of his business. In some ways, this made the idea of rekindling their relationship- something his friends insisted he should try to do- more of an actual possibility. And yet, somehow, that in itself helped him realize that he doesn’t really want to get back together. And he knows she feels the same, even if there are some weird lingering feelings on both sides of the issue. They simply aren’t compatible, and that’s okay. It took him a while to get here, but now he’s happy just being her friend.

Thankfully, Robin joins in, interrupting that awkward train of thought and providing the solution to a problem Steve hasn't even considered yet.

“They wouldn’t be alone, Mrs. Wheeler. I can help out, too.”

“You would do that? Move across the country and play house with me and these brats?”

“Of course I would, dingus. Where you go, I go.”

The fondness in their exchange prompts some raised eyebrows from the others, but that’s irrelevant. Steve is just massively thankful that Robin is offering to come along. Having to choose between the kids and his platonic soulmate would have torn him apart just as badly as the bats did.

“And I’d say the same about Will and El,” Jonathan says as he joins the group. “So I hope there’s room for a couple more.” He glances questioningly at Argyle, who came in with him.

Argyle just shrugs. “I’m sticking with you, man.” Apparently, his parents turned him out to fend for himself when he hit eighteen, so he doesn’t have much to go back to, and he’s been content staying with the Byers until the blockade is lifted- or for the long haul, it seems.

Karen nods in Jonathan’s direction. “Good, I’m sure Joyce will feel better knowing you’ll be there.”

So that makes five of us. Considering I’ve wrangled most of these guys on my own plenty of times by now, that should be totally manageable. I guess it will be nice to have some guaranteed backup for once.

It looks like the gang is staying together after all, plus at least one new-ish addition.

But, speaking of "new-ish additions" to the group, there is still a six-foot deep hole in the entire plan, which is the question of what to do with a dead man when all his remaining friends are ditching town.

“What about... Eddie?”

~~~

{well folks theres the second installment of the prologue. as for the rest of it... youll get it when you get it. hopefully ill be able to start updating more regularly once i go back home for the summer. things are just kinda crazy right now hahahahaha <-(the deranged laughter of a person whose ass is not passing all their courses this time and is very seriously considering becoming a college dropout)

oh and yeah so eddies dead i guess. not what i had planned but sometimes the plot just does what it wants. you know how full house basically starts off with dannys wife dying in a car accident (offscreen and prior to the events of the actual show anyway)? and steve is like, very loosely the au's parallel of danny? well you might not have known that actually but i just told you. so. yeah. you get where this is going

also, to my unofficial beta readers and lovely mutuals @moreover-clover and @redley-of-many-noodles: i have seen your comments/messages and i appreciate your input, but ive decided im going to try not to take this project too seriously and just have fun with it rather than worry about how polished it is, so i think this is going to be a no beta project from here on out. thank you for the thoughtful commentary/critiques on part 1.1, and i do hope you continue to enjoy it <3

having said that, if anyone happens to notice glaringly obvious/simple typos that i could easily fix, or if any parts are just genuinely incomprehensible, feel free to point it out/ask for clarification if you want to}

[strangerthings4theories]

Billy Is Not A ‘B’ Character In Stranger Things

Yeah, his name starts with a ‘B’. That’s not what I mean. 

Everyone’s noticed an interesting trend in Stranger Things: if your name starts with a ‘B’, you’re probably going to die. First it was Barb. Then it was Bob. Then it was Billy. So, like Barb and Bob, Billy’s probably gonna stay dead. Right?

Not so fast. I’m a writer, fam. I’ve studied storytelling my whole life. And when you line up all the characters who have died so far (excluding the ‘bad guys’ and bit players), I can immediately tell you one of these characters is not like the others.

In fact, I can tell you Billy is not the ‘B’ character of S3. Alexei is. The Duffers just slid over to the ‘A’ to throw us off.

It all comes down to the weight each character is assigned. Are they a protagonist central to the story? A secondary character designed to comment on or reveal things about the protagonist(s)? Or are they just an extra, designed to fulfill a specific role in a smattering of scenes?

You don’t have to scratch your head over this. If you know storytelling mechanics, sorting characters is pretty easy (usually).

Let’s try it out...

One Of These Characters Is Not Like The Others

>>Barb, Bob, and Alexei have an arc spanning only one season. The Duffers never intended to let them survive for two. When they die, they leave no loose threads behind them except for other characters' grief and remorse. (And in Barb's case, a deep sense of injustice - which Nancy resolves in S2.)

>>Billy’s already had an arc spanning two seasons. When he dies, he leaves a TON of loose threads. He never:

made up for bullying Max

made up for hurting El (Starcourt was a good start, but not enough)

apologized to Lucas

apologized to Steve

stood up to his father and broke his hold over him

had a fulfilling friendship/relationship with anyone

grieved his mother (if she’s dead), found her again (if she’s alive), or otherwise came to terms with her memory

reclaimed the sweet, happy boy we saw on the beach

healed from the abuse he suffered throughout his life

hit back at the Mind Flayer, made Him regret possessing him, and emerged victorious

If he’s dead for good, this is disastrous storytelling. A good writer would never dream of cutting a character’s arc so short. It makes people (and other writers) grumpy.

>>Barb, Bob, and Alexei have a handful of narrative functions. They’re intended to show us more about specific characters, or redirect the plot at specific, identifiable points.

Barb is Nancy’s best friend. Her death was designed to propel Nancy’s coming of age journey. In S1, it shows Nancy how selfish she’s been and brings her and Jonathan together. In S2, it leads her to reject Steve because he doesn’t understand how desperately she needs justice for Barb. When Nancy secures this justice, Barb’s role in the story is complete.

Bob is Joyce’s boyfriend. His relationship with her shows us Joyce is holding herself back and not pursuing the man she really wants (Hopper). Throughout S2, he helps Joyce and the kids solve puzzles crucial to the plot. Then he helps them escape the lab and dies a hero. With that, his role in the story is complete.

Alexei is an expert on the Russians’ “key” machine. His primary role is to give Hopper, Joyce, and Murray the info they need to shut it down. Along the way, he provides comic relief, helps Murray overcome his hatred of Russians, and shows us Russians and Americans can coexist peacefully. Finally, his death demonstrates the lethal threat posed by Grigori. After that, his role in the story is complete.

>>In terms of narrative structure, Billy is a heavyweight. While I can rattle off just a handful of functions for Barb, Bob, and Alexei, I can’t do the same for Billy. Yes, in S2 he operated at ‘B’ character level. But in S3 he broke out and took control of the narrative. The entire plot of S3 hinges on his possession by the Mind Flayer. Without him, the story simply would not happen.

In addition, Billy is not defined by a single relationship. Just now, I summed up Barb, Bob, and Alexei like this: Barb is Nancy’s best friend. Bob is Joyce’s boyfriend. Alexei is an expert on the “key” machine. You can’t do that for Billy. He sits in the middle of a whole constellation of relationships! He is:

an antagonist to Lucas

Max’s step brother and the “monster” she defeats/tames

Steve’s rival for the kingship of Hawkins High

Karen’s (eventually rejected) love interest

Neil’s terrorized son

his mother’s sweet little boy who lost his way

El’s opposite and equal, the yin to her yang

Will’s older “twin” - in Will’s words, “a new me” (it’s no accident they share the same name)

This is just with the main cast so far. He interacts with a slew of minor characters as well, such as Tommy H. and the Holloways. And you can bet he’ll develop relationships with the rest of the main cast. The potential is incredible! Among other things:

Hopper will see himself in Billy and become the positive father figure Billy needs.

Joyce will see Will in Billy and become the protective mother figure he needs.

Jonathan will resent Billy’s presence and hold a grudge. Over time, he’ll learn that monsters can change.

It’s a lot, okay? And it’s not an accident. This kind of narrative pull only happens by design. 

Other characters who have the same pull include Hopper, Will, and El.

Billy is not a secondary character. He is a main character, the kind you can point to and say “yes, this show is about him.” That’s why, when an article I read recently said “we haven’t had a REAL major character death yet (Billy doesn’t count),” I laughed.

It’s true. We haven’t had a REAL major character death yet. But only because Billy ain’t gonna stay dead.

Peace. ✌️

»»————-　✼　————-««

P.S. If you want to figure out who’s a ‘B’ character like Barb, Bob, and Alexei, use this handy-dandy checklist:

has a name that starts with A, B, possibly C (Barb, Bob, Alexei, Argyle...)

is a sweet, adorable character that makes you like them (to make their death more painful)

can be defined by a single relationship

has a handful of narrative functions

For these reasons, Argyle is at the top of my list for S4. He's already been introduced as "Jonathan's new best friend" - an eerie parallel to Nancy and Barb.

[cyberwolfwrites-fanfiction]

quiet day

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30435417

words: 4,462

summary:

In which Peter has his quiet days and some bad days.

And meets some people on those days.

(Might become more than a one-shot in the future.)

Peter sighed in relief as the car door shut behind him, muting the sound of the rain and hundreds of teenagers rushing out of the school. The post-school day rush usually didn't bother him anymore, but he'd woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. He'd been up all night finishing his English essay after a particularly rough patrol, and he'd woken up nearly an hour before his alarm was due to ring because of the couple two floors down fighting.

It wasn't just the sleep deprivation that had him all out of sorts, either. Living with little to no sleep was the life of a high school student (and a friendly neighbourhood superhero), and was relatively easy to deal with. However, Mr and Mrs Fights-A-Lot's loud disagreement had set the mood for Peter's day—loud and intense.

Ever since the spider bite, there were days where his senses seemed to be dialled up to eleven (more so than they already were, that was). Every little noise would just seem just a bit too loud, just a bit too grating on his ears, the usual smells of New York would make his stomach churn, the sun would just seem a little too bright and the clinical-like lights at school just a little too intense. The day, most often than not, ended up with him curling up in a ball of misery with a migraine.

Today was no different despite the rainy day. Rainy days usually calmed him. They meant curling up in Ben’s old chair with Ben’s old blanket, with Ben’s special hot chocolate (the secret was a small scoop of vanilla or chocolate ice cream), and movie marathons with May (since Ben was gone). Recently, the rain typically meant a reprieve from the loud sounds and smells of New York, but today all it managed to do was make every bad smell, every clinical-like light in school, and every sound seem so much worse and grating against his senses.

“Hey, Happy,” Peter mumbled after crawling into the car. He curled up on the leather seat and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the blackout windows, which blissfully blocked out most of the grey-filtered light from outside.

“Hey,” Happy greeted him. He’d become much more friendly with Peter ever since they (meaning Peter and Tony) started to have lab days together at the Tower and Happy ended up driving Peter to and from school at least three days a week. “Don’t forget your seatbelt.”

Peter fumbled with the seatbelt as Happy pulled away from the school before curling back up in a ball and huddling into his hoodie.

As Happy’s car was modified by Tony, that meant that the windows were tinted, it was sound-proofed, and it somehow managed to smell like fresh, cool air. All of this was bliss to Peter’s oversensitive senses, and by the time they reached the Tower, Peter had managed to drift into a light sleep.

"Kid, you mind if I drop you off out front?" Peter startled at the sound of Happy’s voice and his migraine came back full-force. "Boss needs me to pick up some things for him."

"S'fine," Peter mumbled groggily, having to force the words out as he tried to gather his bearings. He slung his bag over his shoulder and reluctantly dragged himself out of the car and into the cold downpour outside. He shivered and pulled up his hood, but it was no use—it was raining cats and dogs outside and he was already soaked through the moment he stepped out of the car. Due to this, Peter didn't bother rushing into the Tower, simply not able to muster up the energy to do anything other than shuffle to the door.

It opened at his presence and shut behind him, gaining the attention of some of the staff. One of the desk clerks—the one Peter could never get along with—glared at the puddle of water he was trailing in and made a rude comment under her breath that he could hear clearly despite his migraine. Peter would have apologized for the mess but he couldn't form the words; it felt like they were lodged in the cotton-like feeling that had taken residence in his mouth. Instead, he just self-consciously tugged his wet hoodie sleeves over his hands and headed to an elevator tucked away in a corner of the room. It was one of the only ones that had access to Tony's personal labs, the Avengers's old floors, and the penthouse.

Like the front doors, it opened at his presence, but only because Friday gave him access. As far as Peter was aware, only Tony, Ms Potts, Happy, May, Colonel Rhodes (who Peter had yet to properly meet), and himself had access to this elevator. It had drawn him some odd looks when he first started hanging out with Tony, but now no one gave him a second look.

"Hello, Peter," Friday greeted him once the doors slid shut behind him. Peter closed his eyes and leaned against the cool metal doors, trying to ignore how the walls threatened to crowd around him.

"Hi," Peter managed to force out. His voice was quiet and strained, even to his own ears. It felt like he was being strangled.

"Where would you like to go, Peter? The penthouse, perhaps?" Friday suggested with a tinge of worry in her synthetic Irish-lilted voice. While not as warm or curious as Karen was, Friday was still kind and caring in her own way, even if her voice tended to sound reserved at times. She really only spoke openly to those Tony was on good terms with, and Peter could still remember the cold yet snarky comment she made to Senator Ross when he kept hounding Tony for something about the New Accords.

"Mhm," Peter hummed as a response, thankful that Friday was intelligent enough to not need verbal commands, which meant that he didn’t have to force more words out of his mouth. He tugged at the wet sleeves of his sweatshirt again in an attempt to self-soothe the anxious feeling creeping up inside of him. The hoodie was big on him even though it had belonged to Tony when the man was his age. Peter wondered if Tony had gotten it in a few sizes too large to bring him comfort from being away from home and attending college where everyone was older than him.

The thought made him feel marginally better.

It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach the penthouse and Peter clenched his eyes shut as the lights automatically turned on, hissing out a pained breath. Without having to ask, Friday automatically dimmed the lights for him. Instead of forcing himself to speak, Peter rested his fingertips against his lips before pushing his hand down, signing “Thank you” to Friday since it would’ve been rude not to say anything since she thoughtfully dimmed the lights for him.

“You are welcome, Peter,” Friday said, her voice much quieter than earlier. She had no doubt picked up on the fact that his senses were overwhelmed and he felt gratitude well up in him. “Would you like me to inform Boss of your arrival?”

Peter just shook his head and stumbled in the direction of the living room. He dropped his backpack and shivered slightly before his eyes fell on one of Tony’s hoodies laying on the back of the couch. After a few moments of deliberation (in which he determined whether it was worth the effort of making his heavy limbs move to pull off his wet hoodie), Peter just stumbled over to an armchair and pulled a throw blanket over himself. It smelled like Tony—coffee, motor oil, and a faint whiff of no-doubt expensive cologne—and it had Peter relaxing marginally, the behind his eyes almost seeming to dull at the face of the scent he’d started to associate with home and safety. He cuddled into the warmth of the throw, not able to bring himself to care that he was getting it and the armchair wet, and allowed his eyes to drift shut.

Only to be startled awake after what felt like five minutes. Peter couldn’t help the frustrated whine from leaving his throat, and to his horror, he felt his eyes prick with tears. He was so freaking tired and frustrated and he had a migraine and his senses felt wrung-out and he was so exhausted and every time he tried to sleep, someone woke him up! First, it was the couple from a few doors down, then it was Happy (not that Peter blamed him, the man had only been doing his job), and now it was whoever was talking extremely loudly.

When the voices became louder, Peter huddled into his blanket and sank further into the chair, hoping that it would swallow him up and make the voices stop. He clenched his eyes shut at the pounding in his skull and wished that whoever was entering the penthouse would shut up.

“Why are the lights so dim?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“Fri?” That was Tony. Something in Peter eased at the sound of the man’s voice but his eyes continued to burn and his throat tightened.

“I believe Mr Parker is dealing with a ‘code eleven’, Boss,” Friday informed Tony, her voice as hushed as it had been earlier.

There was a pause and then Tony rounded the corner. “Pete?” Tony asked as he spotted him curled up on the chair. Peter wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t. It was like his voice had been stolen like he was Ariel from The Little Mermaid and he swallowed against the tightness in his throat as he peered up at Tony with stinging eyes.

“Intense day, bud?” Tony asked him, his voice hushed.

Peter’s jaw wobbled as he worked it open and closed, trying to form the words to tell Tony he was fine. Tony didn’t have to worry about him, it was only a little headache, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He wanted to let Tony know that he was fine, that he was just being silly, and that they should go down to the lab like they were supposed to do. They had a project due in a week for his internship—it had been made legit a few months ago—because they were already so behind. Last week, a wrench had slipped out of Tony’s hands and had clattered against the metal table, and to Peter’s enhanced senses, it had sounded like a gunshot. He had frozen, his mind flashing back to Ben, and he’d freaked out. They hadn’t gotten anything done for the rest of the day because Peter had been a baby and cried.

God, he was pathetic. Tony probably hated him, it was his fault that he would get in trouble for not turning in the project. Ms Potts was a real stickler for that since Tony spent so much time messing around with him in the lab. He couldn’t even make his vocal cords work to apologize.

Some of his inner turmoil must have been visible on his face because Tony crouched down and cupped the side of his neck with a warm hand and said, "No, don't apologise. You don't need to say anything, Pete. You're allowed to have bad days. Okay, bud? I'm not mad. If you’re upset about the project, don’t worry, I can move the date back."

Peter curled in on himself at Tony’s words—so understanding and nonjudgemental—and suddenly everything seemed so much more intense. The sounds of the Tower exploded in his eardrums, the whirring of machines, the ticking of clocks, and the buzzing of the lights sounding like crackling thunder. The minimal lights in the room burned his retinas and he clenched his eyes shut, which only made the discomfort of his damp clothes more apparent. His wet jeans grated against his skin and he felt like his sweatshirt, which clung to him, was suffocating him. He threw the throw blanket off him, nearly ripping it in the process, hoping that it would lessen the suffocating feeling.

His exhale shuddered, not really a sob but nearly there, and his hands clamped over his ears to try and muffle the suddenly intense sounds. Tony muttered something that Peter couldn’t decipher as he moved into the chair beside him—the armchair he was in was massive, almost as if it had been made for the Hulk, and there was plenty of space for Tony to sit next to him—and he choked out a sound as Tony’s warm, calloused hand tightened on his neck for a moment before he was being pulled into the man’s side. Peter’s curled into the warmth that was Tony, his fingers grabbing ahold of the threadbare fabric of his old band tee—the man must have been in the lab before he came up to the penthouse, otherwise he’d be dressed in office clothes—and he tried to stop the whine that was building in his throat.

One of Tony’s hands carded through his wet, messy curls before a set of headphones slid over his ears, blocking nearly every little intense sound from Peter’s ears. The relief from his most troublesome sense made it feel as if he blacked out for a moment and it took him a moment to realize that he was trembling. His fingers tightened in Tony’s shirt and his shoulders shuddered in a mixture of relief and the cold feeling in his skin and the anxious, panicky feelings that had been running through his veins like adrenaline for what felt like days.

Tony’s thumb rubbed against the corner of his jaw in a soothing motion and slowly as the panicky feeling drained from him, he loosened the tight hold he had of Tony’s shirt and the furrows between his brows smoothed. His fingers loosened their tight grip on Tony’s threadbare shirt, lying flat against his chest to feel the man’s steady heartbeat.

Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud.

Tony’s chest lifted and fell against Peter’s hands as he inhaled and exhaled, seeming almost exaggerated. Instinctively, Peter began to sync his breathing with Tony’s. When his parents had first died, and when Skip happened, May and Ben had taken him to a child therapist. He had been prone to panic attacks and one of the ways his therapist taught him to calm himself was to sync his breathing with someone else’s. And so, feeling the expanding and contracting of Tony’s lungs beneath his hands, Peter’s own unsteady breathing began to level out.

After a few more minutes of feeling Tony’s soothing heartbeat and matching his breathing, Peter reluctantly leaned away from him and slid the headphones off one ear.

“Stai bene?” Tony murmured. Are you okay? Peter translated easily. He swallowed and tried to speak but the words still caught in his throat. Tony’s thumb brushed against the corner of his jaw again, and understanding that Tony didn’t need him to speak, Peter just nodded. He tugged at his sweatshirt sleeves and made a slight face as the damp fabric dragged against his cold and numb skin. Tony noticed. “Your clothes are wet,” he said with a frown, rubbing a hand against his arm in an attempt to warm him up. “Aren’t you cold?”

Peter sniffled slightly and he looked up when a sweatshirt—a red threadbare MIT one—moved into his vision. He started at the sight of who he recognized to be Colonel Rhodes, otherwise known as War Machine—or did he go by Iron Patriot?—or, most importantly, Tony’s best friend. The man wasn’t wearing his War Machine armour and he wasn’t wearing a military uniform, instead, he was in a long-sleeved thermal shirt and a pair of jeans, which were encased by the man’s leg braces, but Peter could easily recognize him from the pictures Tony had around the penthouse.

“Here,” the man said in a gentle voice. Peter blinked at him and realized that the unfamiliar voice he’d heard belonged to him, and now that he thought about it, he was probably who Tony asked to get his soundproof headphones as he was pretty sure they had been in his bedroom. His jaw worked slightly, he wanted to say thanks, but Tony did it for him.

“Thanks, Rhodey,” he said, clapping the man on the shoulder when he stood. Tony then turned to Peter, who slid his soundproof headphones around his neck. “Why don’t you go shower and change, bud? Those wet clothes don’t look comfortable.”

Realizing that Tony was giving him out, at least for a little while to gather himself in private, Peter did as he instructed, taking the sweatshirt from his hands and heading down the hall to the room that was designated as his. His shoulders met his ears as he felt eyes on him and he felt embarrassed for the event Colonel Rhodes just witnessed. Pathetic, his mind whispered. He tried to shove the thought away.

“What’s a ‘code eleven’?” Colonel Rhodes asked when his door closed behind him. Peter could hear the concerned words easily and he stilled, wondering what Tony’s response would be.

“The kid has bad days,” Tony told him in a soft voice. “He’s been stressed recently and he’s got sensitive senses, so a bright light or a loud noise probably triggered a sensory overload. He’s probably been dealing with it all day.” There was a beat of silence, an exasperated sigh, and Peter had a mental image of Tony running a hand down his face. “He’ll be fine after some rest and quiet.”

The tightness in Peter’s throat had diminished when Tony calmed him earlier, but it tightened again and his eyes pricked with tears at how understanding the man was. He’d easily guessed what was wrong, what had most likely set him off, and knew how to calm him down. He swallowed thickly and stopped listening as their conversation turned to other things.

Peter’s shower was longer than it usually was. He stood in the dark—the bright lights and the buzzing sounds of the lightbulbs were still too much for his eyes and ears, even dimmed—and allowed himself to cry. He knew that the tightness and the emotions wouldn’t just go away and that Tony wouldn’t comment on the redness of his eyes when he got out. Colonel Rhodes seemed too polite to comment on it, either.

Instead of pulling on one of his own hoodies or another shirt, Peter tugged on the hoodie Colonel Rhodes had grabbed for him, the one that he’d debated on wearing earlier. It smelled like Tony’s cologne and dryer sheets, and Peter figured that Tony had probably only worn it for a few minutes before taking it off. The comforting smell threatened to make tears prick in his eyes again but he’d all but cried himself out in the shower, so he just pulled the sleeves over his hands.

When he tugged on a pair of sweatpants and some socks, Peter just stood in his bedroom, debating on what he should do. Tony and Colonel Rhodes were talking in the other room, and knowing that Tony had been eager for his friend’s visit, he debated on whether or not he should bother them. But Tony had wanted him to meet Colonel Rhodes, that was part of the reason he was here today, and so he grabbed his soundproof headphones just in case and shuffled out of the room quietly.

They didn’t hear him walking down the hall—Peter had had a lot of practice being stealthy so he didn’t wake up Aunt May after patrol—and so he had a few minutes to watch the two men interact. They were talking about something inconsequential, simply chatting amongst themselves about something. Peter caught Ms Potts’s name, so they might’ve been talking about the company or how Ms Potts was. Tony was smiling that warm, happy smile he got when he was alone and not in public, and the sight of it made the tight feeling in Peter’s chest lighten. Tony was here, he was happy. A dark thought threatened to cross his mind, about how he was a burden and that Tony didn’t want him here, but Peter shoved it away. He was tired of the bad thoughts already. Tired of everything, really, but especially at the depressing thoughts. He was here because Tony wanted him here and that was what mattered.

“Hey, kid.” Tony happened to glance at the hallway and spotted him. He had a slight, reassuring but concerned smile and his eyes scanned Peter, looking as if he was looking for a hidden injury. Peter gave Tony an awkward quirk of his lips and he tugged at his hoodie sleeves nervously when Colonel Rhodes looked at him.

Peter waved slightly and Colonel Rhodes smiled, seeming a little amused. Tony urged him further into the room.

“How about a proper introduction?” Tony said rhetorically. “Peter, this is my best friend Rhodey, otherwise known at War Machine, so try not to fanboy too hard.” Peter rolled his eyes slightly even if he was fanboying on the inside, now that he could think clearly. War Machine~! Tony turned to Rhodey, throwing an arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Rhodey, this is The Kid.”

There were capital letters, Peter could hear it. Colonel Rhodes could, too, if the amused smile on his face was anything to go by.

Colonel Rhodes held his hand out for a handshake, which Peter took. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter, Tony’s told me a lot about you,” he said. Peter glanced at Tony in surprise. He’s told Colonel Rhodes about him? Peter opened his mouth to say something, but the words got caught in his throat. He still couldn’t talk. He didn’t really want to, either.

"Speechless, are we?” Tony teased lightly, though the glint of concern in his eyes told Peter that he understood. He’d had his own quiet days before. “Alright, kiddie, so I was thinking that we could have a movie day today,” Tony said, changing the subject. “Rhodey and I were thinking about the new Harry Potter movie and pizza, you in?”

Peter grinned and made a thumbs up. He’d been wanting to watch Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them since it came out.

Tony grinned back and ruffled his head. “Good, go take a seat. I’ll get the popcorn. You too, Rhodes.”

Peter followed Colonel Rhodes into the living room, curling up in his usual spot on the couch. There was a slightly awkward silence before Colonel Rhodes shifted in his seat, turning to face him.

“You’re good for him, you know,” Colonel Rhodes said. Peter looked at him with furrowed brows and the man elaborated. “Tony. He was a mess after Germany, I was afraid that he’d go back to drinking.” Peter frowned slightly; he knew of Tony’s past, it had come up often enough in the news and in magazines when he was younger and he’d been an avid Tony Stark fan even before the man became Iron Man, but he couldn’t imagine Tony turning to alcohol. The man barely drank around him, maybe a beer or two during movie nights, but there was no expensive, fancy liquor anywhere in the penthouse. Colonel Rhodes caught his expression and he smiled somewhat sadly. “I don’t like the thought, either. I was kind of surprised when he told me that he was taking a break from hard liquor, but then he told me about you and I understood.”

Peter was confused. What did he mean?

“Tony’s never really been one for big responsibilities,” Colonel Rhodes told him. “He’s good at his work, brilliant at it, but it was more of a chore at times than not. The first big thing that he felt responsible for was Iron Man, he felt he had a duty to protect after all of the lives he’d taken.” Peter was slightly conflicted. He could understand the duty to protect, he’d become Spider-Man for that very purpose, but he disagreed that Tony had been the one to kill all those people with his weapons. His name might have been on them, but he hadn’t been the one to fire them, to target all of those people. Colonel Rhodes gave him an understanding smile; he no doubt agreed with Peter’s thoughts.

“Then came Pepper and the Avengers, but you saw how that last one turned out. Helping me with my braces distracted him for a while, but I was afraid of what would happen when I was doing fine on my own. Then he surprised me by starting to talk about you. Eventually, he’d be mentioning you in all of our phone calls; ‘I’ve got this intern, he’s brilliant,’ or ‘The kid’s coming over today, we’re making a robot,’ or ‘Peter came up with a good way to stop your braces from locking up after standing for too long.’” Colonel Rhodes rapped his knuckles against his braces and said, “Thanks for that, by the way, they haven’t locked up since Tony upgraded them.”

Peter’s neck burned at the sincere thanks and he smiled shyly. Colonel Rhodes became serious again. “The whole point of this thing is that you’re good for him, Peter. He’s as sober as he’s ever been, healthy as he’s ever been, has been sleeping through the nights, and he’s not having as many three-day lab benders as he used to have. So thank you, Peter.”

Peter swallowed thickly. “H-He’s helped me, too,” he managed to say around the tightness in his throat. The only thing that belied Colonel Rhodes’s surprise at him talking was a single blink.

“You’ve been through more than the average teenager, haven’t you?” Colonel Rhodes said with keen eyes. Peter nodded and the man smiled slightly. “Well, then I’m glad that you’ve helped each other.”

In the kitchen, the popcorn stopped popping and the microwave beeped. Tony came out seconds later and raised an eyebrow at the two of them. “What were you two talking about?” Tony said suspiciously.

“I was just talking to Peter about my leg braces,” Colonel Rhodes said, scooting over to give Tony room to sit. Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly as if calling his friend’s bluff but sat down, giving them each of their snacks.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road. Friday, can you play Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?”

As the opening scenes of the movie played, Peter and Colonel Rhodes exchanged a look of understanding. Peter still didn’t feel well, he was still tired and felt wrung-out, but knowing that he’d helped Tony more than he thought made him feel better. He leaned against the man and stole a handful of popcorn, smiling slightly at Tony’s playful indignant squawk.

This one-shot took me a ridiculous amount of time to write! I got the idea like two weeks ago, started writing it like two weeks ago, and ended up only adding a few hundred words each day, sometimes only like thirty or so. I'm happy I got it done, and while I don't particularly like the ending, I like the whole feel of this.

Here are some scenes that I cut out but couldn't bring myself to completely delete:

1.

"Tony cares about you in a way that I knew he was afraid to feel—Has he told you about Howard?” Colonel Rhodes asked. Peter frowned slightly at the mention of Howard. Tony hadn’t explicitly told Peter what his father had been like, only a few mentions here and there, but Peter knew how to use context clues and how to extrapolate data, so he nodded. “Well, he likes to say that he doesn’t like children, that he’s not good with them, but he ‘s afraid of turning out like his father.”

Peter balked at the thought. Tony wasn’t like Howard!

“Exactly,” Colonel Rhodes said with another look of understanding. “Tony’s afraid of turning out like his dad so he tried to stay away from children, but somehow, he got attached to you. You’re making him happy, happier than I thought he’d ever be after everything that happened."

2.

Tony was murmuring soothing words to him, some in English but most in Italian. The man had taken to speaking to him in Italian ever since he heard Peter talking to May in the language. Peter had first learned the language when he’d moved in with May and Ben; it had been a way for them to distract him from the grief and he’d gotten over his selective mutism—this was a common thing for him, the not speaking, not being able to speak—by learning it.

“Starai bene, mimmo,” Tony was murmuring. You’ll be alright, baby.

The whine Peter desperately tried to hold onto was pulled from his throat at the phrase. It was something May always said to him when he was sad or upset, but it felt different coming from Tony. May was kind of obligated to care for him—not that it made her comfort any less comforting or appreciated—but Tony was Tony.

3.

A tear fell down the bridge of his nose. "He said I killed Ben," Peter said in a soft, quiet voice, "and that he died to get away from me. And my parents, too. And that-that May left for her conference or training seminar or whatever it is to get away from me. Everyone I love dies or leaves me, Tony, I don't want you to go, too."

4.

"Oh. Quiet day, baby?" Tony asked softly, the pet name May usually used seeming to slip out.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Yo! Wassup? I read far away today and boy is it awesome like you totally slay as sis .. btw when is part 2 coming ? Not tryna rush you or anything.. Take your time

Far too long - P. Parker (Part 2)

Read Part 1 here

ITS HERE AND I’M SUPER NERVOUS. I FEEL LIKE I RUSHED THE ENDING BUT I ALSO FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE A FLURRY OF PENT UP WORDS AND EMOTIONS. I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT AND IF ITS BAD THEN LMK AND ILL APOLOGISE SINCERELY BECAUSE I’M SCARED OF THIS HAHAHA

(gif is not mine)

TW: Mentions of blood, grief, injury, abandonment, fear, angst, childbirth. If any of these themes may trigger you then, please, do not read for your own good. Your wellbeing is far more important.

My inbox is always open.

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

It would be a lie to say that Peter hadn’t been in horrible situations before. However, with the development of his powers came the growth of thicker skin and stronger shoulders to bear the weight of his choices and others.

He fought, day after day, to withstand everything life threw at him. Heartache, mistakes, the one time he frosted the tips of his hair when he was 12 - Y/N knew that he would be alright.

He had to be alright. He had to be alive. She needed him. They needed him.

Y/N had watched him grow as a man, and watched him overcome everything. Then he was finally hers. She had everything she had ever wanted in him, and she was going to bring new life into the world with him by her side, until the missions came between them.

Now, she had been away from him for over 2 months and he was missing in action. Every news station was reporting that he was gone, but she refused to accept it. She knew Peter. She knew the strength he had. She knew that no matter what, he wanted to be a part of his baby’s life.

The minute she saw the broadcast her shaking fingers dialed Tony’s number and he was there to take her to the compound as soon as he could be.

Another three months passed.

Three agonizing months.

She gave birth in the medical bay of the compound, May by her side, welcoming her daughter into the world with a broken heart

Rosie May Parker was welcomed into the world, but the one person who was meant to be there wasn’t. She had her fathers eyes, his ferocious brown curls - but she didn’t have her father.

Y/N didnt have much knowledge of science outside of her computer mechanics degree, nor did she have any means to be a powerful superhero like the avengers, but she had fierce determination. Tony had ordered her to stay at the compound until they found peter - he was also determined that his faux-son would be okay.

Y/N harbored no intentions of leaving, more so, now that Rosie had joined her. May was there as well, watching Y/N fall in love with the small child over and over again, every day, helping where she could.

It was when they neared the day that her daughter would turn two months old, that it all happened.

Y/N had taken up residency in the lab. She was a computer science major at university, and she was able to pick up the workings of the technology Tony and Bruce utilized to keep track of mission data and surveillance measures for MIA operatives. She had spent nearly every day that she had been there inspecting every program, every website, keeping track on news outlets.

The world said that Peter was dead, but she refused to give up. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. Spider-Man wouldn’t submit.

If her eyes weren’t glued to a screen, they were on her daughter, both keeping her connection to peter alive. She monitored his Karen program for any inconsistencies, any sign that the program was online.

Karen had been offline for so long. The minute the building went down on Peter, the only thing letting Y/N and Tony know that he was alive was gone with it.

Rosie would sleep soundly in a bassinet set up next to her chair. There was a strain in Y/N’s head that hadn’t waned for weeks. Each day her head felt heavier, the harsh blue lights from the computers creating a constant reminder of her naive determination.

She was beginning to consider the possibility that he was gone, but something always made her thoughts shift in the other direction whenever the idea graced her cortex.

Her days had been filled with bouts of despondency, but the small babe that she cradled against her chest throughout the day brought light back into her life.

But still, nothing

Not until that day.

Rosie was sleeping in her crib I’m their room, recently fed, changed and cuddled - Friday monitoring the baby in all of the ways that the baby monitor she had with her couldn’t. The clock had just hit 2:38am and her eyes were heavy. She considered submitting to the crushing weight of her exhaustion, until Tony burst into the laboratory with Bruce and Natasha in tow, the woman suited up and heading towards the hallway leading to the quinjet hangar.

“Tony?” Y/N blinked, eyes darting to the baby monitor to determine if the commotion was linked to her daughter. Rosie hadn’t moved, her small chest rising and falling with each breath. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce had rushed over to the computer she was sat at, rebooting various programs that Y/N could barely recognize in her bleary state.

A vein in Tony’s forehead protruded - a clear sign that his stress levels were at a high. Bruce had been attempting to monitor his blood pressure as of late, knowing that his anxiety had been peaking with the disappearance of two of his team members.

Y/N had felt a overwhelming sense of duty to the man who had taken her in. She wanted to calm him, help ease his worries as he had done for her. He was as much family to her as he was to Peter.

His brown eyes were frantic, but there was something else hidden in the warm irises that seemed constantly framed by bloodshot sclera. Hope.

“Take off in 30, Nat.” Bruce spoke through an earpiece, connecting directly to the quinjet she assumed the Russian was boarding.

Y/N focused her gaze entirely on Tony, rising to her feet carefully and stepping towards him slowly, as one would a spooked animal.

The minute she was within arms reach, his hands were grasping her shoulders. There was no pressure under his hands, but there was comfort. “A few minutes ago, a transmission came through.” Y/N felt her eyes widen, mind racing with possibilities. The smile she received from the older man told her everything she needed to know before the words left his lips. “Pete came though. He’s with Barton, they’re safe. Romanoff’s on her way to pick them up.”

Y/N was in disbelief, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, “The building,” she breathed. “It came down on them-“

“The kid will explain when he gets here.” His hands moved to her cheeks. “He’s coming home, Y/N. For the most part, he’s alright. I got his vitals from the Karen program and he is stable, may need some work when he gets home, but he is okay, physically.”

Tears slipped from her eyes, running down Tony’s fingers but he paid it no mind. The smile that split his face was enough of a pardon.

It was another two hours until the familiar sound of the quinjet hangar opening graced her ears.

Bruce had ordered her to get some rest while they waited, but she opted to spend the time watching her daughter. Rosie had woken for a feed, but her big brown eyes stared up at her mother with a knowing look. Y/N could do little to push down the excitement of Peter’s return, but the overwhelming fear quickly resurfaced.

They left on horrible terms. They were no longer a couple, nor did she have the chance to take back the horrible things she said about his faithfulness to their family dynamic. But there was a lingering part of her mind that pushed her to think he would want nothing to do with them.

She left her room, placing a kiss to Rosie’s forehead and asking Friday to keep a watch of the baby, clipping the monitor to her waistband and rushing for the laboratory.

She arrived in time to see the compound medical staff trailing alongside a stretcher, Barton sprawled on it with a smirk on his face and an IV cannula in his arm.

Moments later she saw him.

He looked as much a mess as he felt, he knew so. Soot and dirt coating his skin and his suit, his leg aggravated and aching from an incorrectly set break. He hadn’t expected to see her face, but when he did, it felt as if a building was falling down on him once again.

She caught his eyes darting down to her stomach then back to her face. She smiled at him softly with a nod, hoping he could grasp her meaning across the meters between them.

She hadn’t the chance to say a word to him, nor he to her. Bruce led him to the medbay, offering support where he could for the pain in Peter’s leg, and Tony went to Y/N, cradling her as the pent up grief escaped through her eyes. She wanted to follow after him, so badly.

Tony held her against his chest, sharing the grief that had been building over the months. They were beginning to think they had lost Peter, but to see him alive and standing in front of them - it was overwhelming for both.

“I, uhm,” Tony cleared his throat, his voice wet from tears. “I’m gonna go help Bruce out. I’ll send for you when he’s all fixed up. I promise.”

With a nod of her head, Y/N let him go.

Minutes after, Friday alerted her that Rosie was awake and she took her leave to sit with her baby.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she cradled the babe to herself. She had decided that even if Peter didn’t want to see her, she would at least hand Rosie over to Tony to introduce father and daughter. Despite her previous words, she just knew that Peter would be entirely smitten with the small human, just as much as she was.

As such, it came as a surprise when Friday chimed through her P.A. System requesting her presence at the medbay.

Her feet shuffled to stop at the door for the room they were in before she knew it, and Tony had opened the door to allow her entrance. He and Bruce took their leave, allowing the former lovers to have the space to themselves.

Peter felt the air drain from his lungs and he looked at her. He had sat up on the bed, leg bandaged and healing at an accelerated rate now that it had been set correctly. He was bruised and battered but he still smiled wider than he had in so long when he saw her and the small bundle she cradled.

She was the first to speak, “You’re alive.” Her voice was choked. The past months had been hard on him, but he couldn’t imagine the pain she felt thinking he was dead. Especially when they left things so horribly.

“The building... it wasn’t meant to go down like that,” he sighed, his smile shrinking. “I took most of the brunt because I can handle more than Clint. But we managed to get out and get our target... eventually.”

His eyes were darting to the bundle in her arms, but he didn’t dare to say anything about he baby. At this point, he didn’t even know his baby’s name.

Y/N noticed his gaze, and the unspoken question that his eyes held. Without warning, she took a seat next to him on the bed, unwrapping Rosie and placing her in Peter’s arms. She silently adjusted his hands to ease his fear and discomfort in holding an infant, and she could see the emotion forming in his chocolate orbs.

“Her name is Rosie.” Y/N whispered, eyes stuck on her daughter. “Rosie May Parker.”

“You named her after ‘Love, Rosie’,” he smiled, feeling a tear slip down his cheek. He had a daughter, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“It’s my favourite book. Two best friends who fell apart, only to come together and repeat it until they could finally be together.” Her fingers fiddled in her lap, picking at her cuticles. Her body was alight with nerves, her toes electric within her boots. “And I had to name her after May. She’s the only mother I have.”

“Rosie,” he tried the name on his tongue, noticing the way the baby scrunched her nose in her sleep. Her mother did the same thing.

Y/N sighed deeply, breathing out through her nose as she held back tears. “Peter, I’m so -“

“You have nothing to apologise for, Y/N.” He ran his finger over Rosie’s cheek. So soft, scared to stir her from her sleep. “Everything that happened, happened because of me.”

“Peter-“

“My list of discretions are unending. What kind of fiancé was I?” He let a soft chuckle fall from his lips, a humorless one, soaked from the sob he refused to let rip from his chest. “What kind of father was I? Who did I think I was, to keep you waiting on me, day after day. Every important event, I missed.”

“I never meant to say those things to you, Pete. To accuse you of not loving me, not wanting to be a father... it was uncalled for. But,” she sniffed, turning her head upwards to gaze at the ceiling. “I felt so alone. And then, you left, and I was alone.”

After what felt like eternity, his eyes met her face. Her skin was blotchy from tears, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. She was the most beautiful thing he had seen, apart from the angel in his arms. He felt almost complete, with the two girls by his side. His heart hurt a little less.

“I know. I’m probably the biggest jackass on the face of the planet, and I know that I can most likely do nothing to change that. It’s far too late for me to even begin to say the things I have wanted to say, but I can’t stand the thought of another day without telling you what’s been on my mind since the minute I left.” His body shuddered with a heavy breath, his lips kissing the small fist that rose towards his mouth as Rosie stretched in her sleep. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember. Every second I was away, I wanted nothing more than to run home and apologize for every disgusting thing I had said to you, to put my hands on your belly and promise our baby that I would never leave either of you.

“Then the building went down. I helped Clint get out, but I was stuck there for a few days. Some of our operatives were working as hard as they could to find a way to clear the debris so I could go, but it took a while. The entire time, I had convinced myself that I would never be able to see you again. It was like, like, I knew, that I couldn’t breathe until I saw you again.”

Her hand moved slowly, resting against his cheek to thumb away a tear that trailed his smooth skin.

“I didn’t know how many months had passed while I was gone, but when I got out from under the building, I realized that you were all alone to have our baby.” The sob finally broke through his chest. “I left you all alone. The small little baby that would see the world for the first time without their father.” He rubbed the side of his face onto his shoulder to not drop tears onto Rosie. “I’m a horrible father. I was so horrible to you.”

His breaths were staggered, and Y/N took the baby from his arms holding her against her own chest as she pressed her body to his side. Her free hand turned his face toward her own, but he kept his eyes squeezed shut, tears flowing rhythmically.

“I love you so much, Y/N, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise you,” he caught the way her hand tightened on his arm as he spoke. She was terrified of losing him again. “I would do anything, anything at all, to have you forgive me, but if you can’t then I understand. Just don’t make me leave your life, please.”

She felt her breath hitch, “I said horrible things to you. I told you to never come back, but I can’t stand another day without you. I need you here, with us. We need you Peter, like I told you all those months ago.” She felt his lips kiss the palm of her hand, the same one she used to brush away his tears. “I love you so much, and I don’t want you to leave. Ever.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, his lips pouting from the strength it took to resist pressing his mouth on hers. He didn’t know if she would welcome the contact. He had done her wrong.

“I’m not leaving you anymore, baby. I’m not leaving either of you, ever again.”

Y/N knew that Peter would be alright. His resilience was unmatched, his love ferocious. Y/N had began to think she would never see him again, but the image of him perched in front of her, eyes locked on the child that looked so much like him was one that she would never forget.

The tears falling were no longer out of fear, or sadness, or anger. Her tears fell out of love and happiness. She had the final piece of her family back, and she would do everything she could to see the two people in front of her smile.

“I’ve been far away, for far too long, baby. I’m never leaving you again. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you and Rosie. I’ll make you Mrs. Parker and buy a house in the suburbs and do everything boring house husbands do,” Y/N snickered, forehead still against his. Peter was rambling, but she knew she would never force him to give up what he loves, so long as he came home to his two girls at the end of the day. “I will love you, both, until the day I die and beyond that.”

She leaned her head forward slowly, allowing him to reject her intentions, but when he didn’t, she poured her emotions from the last half year into the kiss. The love, the fear, the anger, the uncertainty.

When they broke apart, one thing was on her lips, “I love you, Peter Parker.”

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[milstrim]

Flesh and Bone and Heart

Chapter 1: “You have to let go.”

AO3 Link

Everything was bleak. Russet red skies painted a deep orange over every building and skyscraper. Over bodies of sickly green skin and the newly familiar sight of pools of blood stained to sidewalks and walls.

Peter hadn't quite gotten used to the bleakness yet, and he didn't want to. There was still hope after all. Even if he and Happy were the last New Yorkers left in a city of 8.4 million. There had to be other people alive, other groups of survivors across America, waiting for a cure. Because there had to be a way to more than survive this, even if the virus had wiped out the Avengers in a day...

He shook his head of the thought, squaring his shoulders and resuming his vigilant watch from atop the nondescript gray building he had called home the last couple of days. There was hope, and Peter would help the ragtag team that adopted him into their ranks to see it, even though he was sure they didn't see it like he did. There had to be hope after all. Humanity couldn't end because of one mistake. Aunt May couldn't be gone forever. Ned couldn't be a zombie without being allowed to have had a nerd-freak out over the whole thing. Mr. Stark couldn't be replaced by a husk of his former self.

It was impossible for Peter, to stare out at the city every day knowing about the looks the others shared when they thought he wasn't looking. How Happy would stare sullenly. How Sharon would always speak to him a little softer than the day before. Even Kurt, who had been the only one willing and able to match Peter's enthusiasm and attempts to keep everyone's spirits lifted, would drop the act the moment Peter wasn't in the room. He knew. He could hear everyone in their building, after all.

Which was why Peter sat on the building now.

The group had all formed three weeks into the apocalypse, not so easily fitting together but still managing to find how they all worked. His powers definitely made Peter one of the most powerful assets to the team, which was why he was usually on watch or patrolling around for where most of the infected were concentrated. Where once he might have preened at finally feeling so important--so seen--now he wished more than anything that he could shrink away. That his powers weren't needed so badly to keep a handful of survivors away from a fate almost worse than death.

He wished that everything was okay.

Even if it wasn't. And it might never be.

The screen of his mask caught something. Peter readjusted, narrowing his eyes as Karen zoomed in. He relaxed. It was just a small group of normal but infected New Yorkers. As long as everyone inside was quiet and kept up their normal routine, there was little danger there. It wasn't like it was Mr. Stark or those weird portal guys that would've gotten Peter weeks ago had Hope not shown up. They were dangerous, and usually who Peter kept his eye out for. Karen was always on the job tracking Mr. Stark, but the teenager had gotten used to training his eye for the familiar glinting red regardless.

With a quiet sigh released in a huff under his breath, Peter wiggled into a more comfortable crouch, watching the zombies until they filtered away onto a different street and out of his sight.

"Is there a street camera around there, Karen?" he asked, his voice a strained whisper. Two months into the zombie apocalypse the teenager had finally trained himself to make every word small. To treat every sentence like a danger. Sometimes Peter thought it was funny, that he'd had to learn to be quieter. May had always been so loud she'd been confused as to why he was so soft-spoken and he would joke that she was losing her hearing in her old age. But those smile-inducing thoughts would make his features fall with regret and guilt and he'd shove them away as quickly as they came.

"Of course, Peter. Here," his faithful AI responded, the video popping up on his screen. It showed the people continuing to stumble away, so he waved the video away. No real danger. Just a normal, boring, and tense day in the apocalypse.

The high schooler thanked the AI as the video disappeared, forcing his strained shoulders to drop and relax. It was something he'd found himself doing a lot recently. The apocalypse was, well, it was the apocalypse. It was dangerous and nerve-wracking and every breath was filled with a tired guilt that made his chest feel stale. But it also lacked a lot of action. Especially recently. The past two weeks had been a strange mixture of the constant need to be vigilant but with a significant lack of things to do.

It wasn't incredibly hard to get food. Most zombies had moved from being indoors to try and hunt better--like there was really anything left to hunt--leaving supermarkets vacant and easy to raid. It wasn't hard to watch out for infected intruders. Two people were always on watch. Important items were always ready to be moved and Karen kept a constant eye on security cameras around whatever building they were occupying that week. And Peter was left with little to do to occupy his thoughts.

He didn't want to think. Not about his situation. Not about the world. Not about his family and friends. He wanted to fight. He wanted to do.

Sometimes the teenager would try and piece together a semblance of a cure. Many zombies had rotted away completely, and there were vacant labs dotted around New York. He could try his hand at his chemistry knowledge and combat what he could. But every attempt, no matter how promising, had always ended in failure.

Peter couldn't make a cure. He was smart, but he was only sixteen and a half. He was a kid and he couldn't do it.

But there was a different sixteen year-old that maybe could.

Miss Okoye had arrived yesterday, in a shiny ship that had bled out of the air and landed in the open space in Avengers tower where the Quinjet should have been. Peter had been on watch then too, but he hadn't seen the plane land at the building across the city, it was invisible after all. Instead, Karen had alerted him and the teenager had immediately leapt off the building towards the tall and lonely ghost of a tower.

  (His first day in the lab had been so tense and awkward. He hadn't known what to say and Mr. Stark hadn't known what to do. Peter had been so nervous he'd nearly burnt his hand off while doing simple wiring. Mr. Stark had panicked so bad--grabbing his hand and having Friday scan it and double-checking it himself when he didn't quite believe the AI--his cheeks blazed red and then Peter had burst out with loud giggles at the panic.)

  Peter had arrived quickly and without interruption from a certain flying zombie, with enough time to warn Miss Okoye that Mr. Stark's suit also got alerts when something entered the tower and that they needed to leave immediately. Thankfully, he and the warrior had left before anyone could arrive and Peter had gotten to ride in a super-freaking-cool Wakandan ship. It hadn't quite distracted him from being back at the tower, but he'd let everyone think it had.

Now the group was making a decision. He could hear them faintly a few floors below, their voices murmured and concerned. It was hard to make out what they were saying exactly, but he couldn't quite say he cared. Certainly not enough to have Karen enhance the sound and let him know every word that was being said below. He had found that happening a lot recently. Not caring. At some point everything had become too much and his brain felt much too much like wet tissue paper to try and purse through anything in there other than I wish I wasn't awake. I wish I wasn't here. I wish someone else had survived instead of me. Someone who was ready.

But there wasn't anything else. And Wakanda would be safe, if they managed to make it there.

That was the debate.

Did they go search for a man who'd been thought to be dead and lost days into the apocalypse, or pack up and go to the last safe haven on Earth? Miss Okoye had her goal, with or without them--that, she had made very clear. But the rest of the group was split, and something they had decided when they'd first met was that the group should��never split. And so, the debating. The arguing. All in whispered murmurs that had to be stifled to nothing if Peter ever gave the signal that an infected group was nearing too close for comfort.

The teenager hadn't heard much of the argument, hadn't made much of a point to pay attention to it, but he knew where everyone lay. Happy was ready to retreat to Wakanda, and Peter couldn't blame him. He didn't have superpowers, he wasn't trained, and the teenager was sure that it had been quite a blow to not only lose all of his friends but to have to depend on a snot-nosed teenager afterwards. Peter wanted Happy to go too. Traversing the zombie-infested country was a death wish for anyone who wasn't in better-than-peak fighting condition.

Kurt wanted to go. Bucky and Sharon wanted to fight.

Hope wanted to fight, but she wanted Peter to go.

Peter didn't want to go.

He wasn't an Avenger, but neither was she. There were no Avengers left. But he was the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. It was his responsibility to help his community, and hiding in Wakanda wouldn't help. If there was a fight, some way to help, Peter would take it.

Finally tired of the silence, he opened his mouth to ask Karen to let him listen to the debate, when a tingle--shocking and cold and running a shiver of goosebumps along his arms--stopped him. Immediately the teenager was on high alert, his muscles tightening in anticipation as he searched for the danger.

"Where's the Iron Man armor?" he snipped quietly to Karen. A screen popped up immediately, showing the armor still in Manhattan. He furrowed his brows. "Okay. Okay. Is it the wizard guys? Karen, search through security cameras nearby and alert the others that something is--"

He cut himself off at a painfully sharp tingle, instinct directing his chin up to stare at the tired russet sky. Except the laziness of it was gone now, replaced now by a fierce fire of ruby red, leaching out from a strange bright spot in the sky. A meteor. Great. The zombie apocalypse, now a meteor, what next? Nuclear war between the zombies?

Karen zoomed in on the meteor heading straight for Manhattan and--no. That wasn't a meteor. Was that--a person? Oh my, God, it was a person.

Said person zipped out of sight just as that thought registered, disappearing among the buildings. Towards where he knew Mr. Stark was.

Peter didn't even weigh his options. A person (alien or possibly already dead) was heading towards the most zombie-infested area of the city. He had to try.

And without a second thought, he slipped off of the building and began swinging.

    "You're not going to convince him!" Happy snapped, his frustration bubbling over. The argument had taken up much of the night before and pretty much all day now. All held in stifled and angry whispers that only made the man angrier as he was forced to keep his voice low and repeat what he'd been saying for hours now. "You've known him for months now! You know you can't."

"He's a kid," Hope pushed back, her voice just as steely as when the argument had started. "He doesn't need to be in the middle of this--even if you and Stark thought it was a good idea. If there's a safe haven in Wakanda, that's where he needs to go."

"And lose one of our most powerful members?" Sharon said. "Look, I don't like the kid fighting any more than you do, but we can't really go anywhere without him. I doubt we'd ever even get out of the city without him."

Hope glared at the agent, aghast. She'd been backed into a corner for hours now, but the woman had refused to back down, spitting and snarling her argument through furious whispers and an exaggeratingly patient voice. Her hard stare examined the faces around the table, looking for some sign of agreement that Happy wished he could offer.

Happy had seen what had happened to Tony. He'd been there when Pepper had turned. When Peter had come bounding through the window of the tower and snatched him towards their new semblance of safety while blubbering about his Aunt and his friend and the state of the city. All in one afternoon.

The former bodyguard thought back to that afternoon a lot. It was clearer in his mind more than almost anything in his life. It had been a gray day. One that turned the sky white and hung heavy in the air and cooled the once bustling streets of New York. It had been strange for the end of spring, but appropriate for the world.

Tony and Rhodes had both been infected, along with the rest of the Avengers, that much they'd known since Friday had reported their vitals completely askew. Happy hadn't told Peter yet, but he'd assumed the kid had already known. The entirety of the West coast had been swallowed, but shaky live footage of people's last moments and journalists as brave as they were stupid had been on a repeating cycle of news for the last thirty-six hours. Peter had never been particularly on top of the news, but Happy had heard how he'd begged Tony to go and help the Avengers. He'd remembered the heart-breaking anxiety and the admittance of a terrible feeling from his Peter Tingle.

But Tony had made Peter stay. He'd told Happy to make sure the kid didn't run off or 'stick his nose into anything that he shouldn't.' Happy's best friend had left with a tight smile. Happy had said good luck.

And now Tony was gone.

Or, more accurately, Tony had spread the infection among the entirety of New York in four hours.

Happy remembered a lot about that day, but he still wasn't sure why Tony had come back to the city. The bodyguard couldn't read brain scans, but Friday had said Tony was practically a shell after fifteen minutes. And a shell had no reason to return home.

He guessed the why wasn't terribly important, because Tony had returned, heading straight toward the tower.

Happy had been about the leave, actually. After watching news footage of Natasha--on her own, bloodied and torn and still trying to fight--finally losing an impossible battle, he knew he'd needed to pick up Peter and May. They needed to get to the compound and try to figure out how to keep the world from breaking. With the Avengers gone there had to be another solution. Maybe it was going to be harboring scientists on a heavily fortified government base. Maybe it was going to be finding other heroes, like Fury had done. The world was so big, there had to be more superheroes--but it hadn't worked out like that.

He'd been on the phone.

"I'm leaving now," he'd said to Pepper, stepping into the elevator. "I'll get Peter and May and take them to the compound. I think you should get in the car with me."

"No. I'll drive myself after you in a couple of hours," she'd said, the dryness of grief clinging to her voice. "The governor's meeting with me soon to discuss how to best lock down the city and prevent an infection."

Happy had thought they'd have at least a week or so. The infected Avengers were fast killers, but they were thousands of miles away and hunting their way through the country.

He'd thought they'd had so much longer.

"I don't know how we'll prevent anything without a cure or a forcefield," he'd said.

"Wakanda's providing aid all over the world. I'll hold a meeting with Queen Ramonda and the President this evening to discuss protecting vulnerable hotspots around the country. New York should be able to--"

The phone had crackled as it crashed, whatever Pepper was saying being completely lost to a thunderous boom of glass. His heart had begun racing before he even found the ability to speak.

And then the red. Lights and alarms flashing overhead in a terrifying headache that Happy remembered even now. The fear. The fatigue. The overwhelming wish that everything would just be okay.

But it wasn't. And it likely wouldn't be.

"Pepper?" he'd finally said. No response. "Pepper? C'mon--what happened? Friday, take me up to the penthouse. Now."

The AI obliged, the elevator stopping and shifting as it began to zoom back up.

When the doors had finally opened, Happy had wished he had just left. That he'd just gone for May and Peter hours ago. He knew it made him a coward. He knew it was a betrayal to Tony's trust. To Pepper's. But...

The smell had been strong immediately. Rotting and stomach-churning and burning the hairs of his nose. It was a smell he would come accustomed to in the coming weeks, but then it had been new and terrifying.

The sound had been low. A growl upon the still and charged air. A low hum that had taken him a moment to register past the smell.

And then he'd finally taken in the sight.

And it had been Tony.

But it hadn't been Tony either.

Tony had always had such a distinct posture that Happy could pick him out in the biggest of crowds. His skin was warm and his eyes a deep familiar brown. The suit had been an oxymoron for years. It had meant safety in a lot of ways. It had meant protection and the world and the knowledge that Tony would look out for them, and that he would avenge them if need be. But it had also meant that his friend was in danger. Every damn day. That he had left to go face danger, and that the danger had finally bested him.

Now the suit was the danger. Now it held a rotting corpse, with eyes white and red and veiny. With skin gray and blue and green and grafting off onto the expensive tile floor. Now the arc reactor shined on a collapsed body, twitching in tune with the ringing of the phone beside it.

Bulging eyes had turned to the opened elevator door. Pepper's red hair had begun to shift and turn until a matching pair was facing him.

Happy had pressed the close door button just as he had heard a shouted, "Oh, my God. Mr. Stark I saw you fly in through the window! What--"

The bounding figure of Peter Parker had leapt through the broken window, landing lightly on the shards of glass littered on the floor like sand. Fear had so tightly taken over the excitement held tightly in the kid's shoulders. The imposters had stared. Peter had taken a step back.

And then there'd been a fight.

That was where pieces of the day had gotten blurry. He remembered Peter yelling something at Happy, something about getting out of the building, but Happy didn't remember going down the elevator. He'd rushed out, knocking the couch into Pepper's way while Peter had grappled with Tony. In a flash of panic and skills that Happy hadn't known Peter had had, Tony and Pepper had been flung into the elevator. Peter had grabbed Happy. And they'd swung.

Of course, that elevator hadn't lasted for long. It was a pitiful prison for Tony. No, he'd escaped within minutes. Long enough for him and Peter to get away, but not long enough to warn the city. Not to save May.

Hope's voice snapped Happy back to the argument and out of his hellish memories.

"So Peter comes with us," she said, defeated. "But where are we even going? If he's coming, we're not leaving without a solid and airtight plan."

"There is no such thing," Okoye responded. "Not anymore. Not here."

"But--"

"She's right, Hope," Barnes said, his voice as steely and cold as usual. "The best we can do is not argue and keep moving. When we have T'challa, we'll call for backup and head to Wakanda."

"Sounds like the best plan we'll get," Happy said.

"Great. We'll leave in the morning," Sharon declared. There were nods all around, except for from Hope, who had turned from her arguing to fiddling with the high-tech gauntlet on her wrist, her brows furrowed. And, suddenly, Happy had a bad feeling.

"Or we'll leave right now," Hope said.

"What?" Kurt exclaimed. "Why would we--"

She raised her forearm, displaying the screen on her wrist. "Peter just left. And Karen just alerted me to breaches in the atmosphere."

Oh yeah. Super bad feeling.

"Of course it got worse. How could it not get worse?"

    Peter was only halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge when he saw it. The second thing to interrupt the russet sky of the day. A spaceship. Great. Let's just spread the alien virus to the rest of the universe, yeah?

Crouching on top of a bridge spire, he stopped for only a moment to observe the circular ship taller than a skyscraper. It was definitely different than the Chitauri, so he guessed that didn't mean they were going to attack. Of course, it didn't mean that they were going to not attack either. Part of Peter hoped that maybe some friendly visitors had heard of their troubles and were descending with a cure. A more realistic, and more bone-crushingly tired part of him knew that that was most definitely not the case.

With a rallying breath, the teenager kept going.

"Okay. Just gotta make peace with the new aliens and hope backup arrives. Oh, Karen. Send an ask for backup to Hope please? I've got a feeling Mr. Stark is gonna be here."

"Done, Peter."

"Great. Thank youuu," he sung, dipping low and skimming the water for a few seconds before swinging back up and finally making it into Manhattan.

The spaceship was stirring up dust and its gusts of winds were whipping around trash (a months-old Starbucks cup ended up hitting him right in the face, so nature wasn't quite healing like they'd thought). But, most dangerously, it was attracting a crowd. Hordes of zombies lining the streets were snapped out of their trance and were beginning to amble towards the disturbance. Some faster than others, but as long as Peter was quick they wouldn't be the main disturbance of the afternoon.

Karen kept up a map of Mr. Stark's rapidly approaching location.

    Peter arrived as the dust settled upon the street, revealing a strange mixture of figures, a low thunder of throaty growls, and the sound of at least one regular guy. The teenager recognized three of the figures, and had expected them too. Iron Man and the Wizards. If they ever lived through this, he needed to tell Mr. Stark they'd be a good band or something.

The other two infected figures were--you had to be kidding. The aliens were infected. Amazing. Thank you, Universe for being ever so helpful.

The man--not infected and hopefully human--let out a strangled exclamation of surprise as Mr. Stark raised his arm, once again on the attack. Peter pulled harder on his web, willing himself forward faster. He was so close and yet so far. Mr. Stark and the wizards were still approaching but he still wasn't even close enough to strike what was he going to do--

A flash of red. With a determined flourish, nothing but a floating piece of fabric declared itself in the street and dove. And then, quickly and efficiently, Mr. Stark was thrown. And now Peter was in range.

The young superhero landed just a little too harshly in front of the uninfected man, not even taking a moment to examine his face as he flicked out a hand at the nearest creature. The wizard's jaw was hanging loosely from his cheeks as he raised his hand, a dangerous path of orange following the trail of his fingers.

At the same moment Peter shot a web at his wrist the fabric wrapped around the zombie's head. Peter pulled and the cloth tugged. He stared at the thing, confused as to what it's plan was--could it have a plan? It was an inanimate object. A floating one, but still--before this time tugging with it. In a strong and swift motion, the wizard zombie was knocked into a car, making the vehicle dent in its doors and fall to the side.

"Nice!" Peter exclaimed as the fabric zipped off the guy's head before it was slammed into the car door, the thing was by his side in a flash, finally allowing him to see it was a cloak. "Woah. Wizard stuff is pretty cool."

"I'll tell you what's not cool," Peter turned towards the new voice, his jaw dropping as the man continued to speak, "sticking around here! C'mon, move it!!"

Bruce Banner--literally Bruce Banner oh, my God. Where had he been? Why was he here now? Wait, did he maybe have the cure? Was that where he'd been or something--grabbed his arm and began running. Confused and shocked as he was, Peter followed, allowing his legs to be pulled into motion.

A shock ran up his spine, but it wasn't fast or strong enough to completely warn Peter of the sparks that turned into a window twenty feet behind him before he could even blink.

Wizard whose face was still attached lunged. Bruce Banner jumped back with a fearful exclamation, backing the two into a nearby car. The zombie's teeth clicked and snarled, its rotten stench burning at his nose and making his eyes water. But the teeth never came, not close enough to bite. To infect.

"Don't eat me!" Dr. Banner yelled. And, surprisingly, it didn't.

It took Peter a moment to realize what was holding the incensed zombie back. Cloakie had grabbed onto its arms, tugging back harshly. The cloak tugged, the zombie chewed the air, the portal dimmed. And then the portal was gone, snuffed out as quickly as it came and leaving nothing but a lolling head on the ground beside Peter Parker and Bruce Banner.

Peter, so numb and so wired on adrenaline at the same time, had no reaction but a small flinch and a hitched breath. Dr. Banner fell, scrambling to get away from the head as he still backed himself into the car, strangled and horrified yells escaping his lips.

"Oh!! Ugh! Ah, ah, go away go away!!" the Avenger said, kicking the head away in his panic. Peter watched it go before turning back to the fight still continuing behind him.

Mr. Stark was blasting at Cloakie, who still held the zombie's headless body as it looped around in the air in a flurry of motion. Peter watched his mentor for a bit, debating on whether he needed to attack and trap him while the man was distracted, or grab Dr. Banner and run, when the decision was made for him.

"Agh!!--" he exclaimed as his legs were tugged and pulled into the air. A confused scream escaped past his lips at the lack of anything physical pulling him, but there was no time to ponder.

Instinctively, Peter stuck his hands to the pavement, grunting as his legs were still pulled straight up in the air. Now essentially in a magic headstand, the teenager could make out the approaching zombies. Mr. Stark, Goatee Wizard, Squidward, and Gray Hulk. Squidward seemed to be doing the magic in this scenario, its hand held out in a probably magic but threatening gesture.

"Hey! No, put me down! C'mon, I'm not good meat, guys. Really. You'd be better off finding some rats or--" There was a crack. Peter looked down at the pavement he was sticking to now crumbling around his hands. "That's not good."

And then Peter was fully in the air, the cement still attached to his stretched out hands and the zombies still approaching.

"Heyyy, guys," he said, trying hard not to look at Mr. Stark. "Y'know, I feel like you just had something to eat and I hate to spoil dinner so I'm just gonna--"

Buzzing filled the air, choking the rust sky in clouds of black. Peter closed his eyes even as the figures stopped only a foot from his face, unable to watch the spectacle and glad to fall to the ground. Wind gushed overhead, a hot air following the streaming wave of ants as they thundered forward.

Remembering that Mr. Stark was there, Peter forced his eyes open in time to see his mentor be completely surrounded and engulfed by a flurry of ants as thick as smoke. The husk of the hero growled and snarled, swinging and snapping at the pests now swarming around him.

The other three wasted away, their soft and rotting flesh eaten completely by Hope's army of thousands, but Mr. Stark still stood, dead yellow eyes staring straight into Peter's.

Mr. Stark didn't recognize Peter. Peter didn't recognize Mr. Stark.

Hope warped back to her normal size, mounting a defensive stance between him and Mr. Stark with her arm outstretched. Mr. Stark's repulsors whined and Hope's gauntlets charged. It took the teenager a split second to realize what she was about to do.

He made to his feet.

"NO!! HOPE DON'T--"

Mr. Stark's body careened. His head rolled, stopping just by Peter's foot.

He couldn't look away.

Mr. Stark had always been such an infinite figure in Peter's mind. Uncontrolled and ungoverned by terrors of death and incapable of causing grief. So the teenager hadn't let himself feel grief, because it was too unreal--too impossible--to feel grief for his mentor. To feel grief for the world, because the world couldn't end like this. He'd repeated that every day. Every morning. Every night. Every minute. Humanity couldn't end because of one decision. One mistake.

But Peter had made a mistake too. He had made the mistake of locking misery and his mourning away, of moving every thought towards something different. Something productive, something positive, something uplifting. He'd made it his role, and his role alone, to keep the group going, no matter how much denying he had to do to get there.

And that had been a mistake, because now there was nothing stopping two months of fear and regret and anguish as it piled and piled and piled. It flooded in like a torrent of mud, slimy and all consuming through his head and his stomach and even towards his limbs until everything was numb and he had only thought left.

Mr. Stark's gone. He's gone. He's gone.

An ant, as huge as he was, grabbed Mr. Stark's head and left.

Peter stared at the spot where it had been, unblinking, breath short, limbs taut. Hope kneeled beside him, her helmet retracting.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know you two were close."

He ignored her apology. "There could have been a cure. There could've--and now--"

"I'm sorry," Hope said again. "But you have to let go, Peter. We can't save everybody."

Peter didn't hear her. A new thought replaced the old one.

But why couldn't we save him?

Someone cleared their throat. Peter and Hope turned to stare as Dr. Banner stepped over a now rotten skeleton.

"Would anyone care to explain, please?"

Hope sighed. "Where to start."

2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

[sideeyedkinks]

Subtlety

Written for @honeyimthedevil for the Starer Exchange. Enjoy! :)

Subtlety was not Tony’s strong suit. He’d been in the limelight from birth, with everyone always expecting bigger and better things from him. It didn’t train him to take half measures. Even the sneakiest of his tactics was more about creating a large enough distraction somewhere else so he went unnoticed. Still, he thought his behavior had been sly enough to escape much notice. 

In the months since Tony and Peter started dating, Tony realised how much more he wanted from the young man. Nothing Peter wouldn’t be willing to give, of course, Tony wasn’t a bastard (well, not when it came to his love life). But outside of official “dates”, those nights specifically set aside for the pair of them, Tony had realized that Peter wasn’t as… touchy-feely as he had expected. 

They still spent plenty of time together, working in the labs, movie nights with the team, Peter dropped by regularly just to say “Hi” or get Tony’s insight on a project for school. But there wasn’t a lot of cuddling going on during those times. It seemed that Peter had the idea that if they weren’t clearly on a date, physical affection wasn’t the thing to do. Which wasn’t bad, really, but Tony was starting to feel a bit touch starved.

So he’d come up with a plan and slowly started implementing it. First, he started texting and calling Peter a little more. Not enough to be a nuisance, just little reminders that Tony was thinking of him and missing him. He started calling more things “dates” and initiating physical contact. 

And now here he was, waiting for his young lover, with a romantic, candlelit dinner spread before him. 

Stone cold. 

He wasn’t angry. God knows he’d missed more than enough dates in his time, with old girlfriends, with Pepper, even with Peter. And Peter had had Karen tell FRIDAY to let him know he got caught up with Connors (Tony point blank refused to call him “The Lizard”, it wasn’t even a good villain name). His commitment to being Spiderman was one of the things Tony loved about him. Tony was a bit disappointed, sure, but he hadn’t even told Peter it was going to be a romantic night, just asked him to come over.

With a sigh, Tony had Friday brighten the lights. He blew out the few sputtering candles that hadn’t extinguished themselves and started to clear off the table. As he packed away the last of the tupperware (Peter had never met a meal he couldn’t inhale, cold or not), he heard the sliding glass door off the balcony open.

“I’m sorry it took so long, Lizard was being more of a pain than usual.” Peter’s voice was a little muffled as he pulled off his mask. 

Tony turned to greet him with a little smile on his face. “I’m still not calling him ‘Lizard’. You can’t trick me into it.”

Peter grinned, unashamed, and gave Tony a peck on the cheek. “I’ll get you to do it one of these days.” He took in the half melted candles, the fancier than normal dinner ware and winced. “Did I miss something important?”

“Nah.” Tony shrugged. “Just thought I’d set up a romantic surprise. Guess that’s not really an easy thing to do for active superheroes, huh?”

“Hmm,” Peter said. “You’re sure I didn’t miss anything? Karen usually tells me about birthdays and stuff…”

“Scout’s honor.”

“We both know you were never a Scout.” He rolled his eyes fondly, before schooling his face to a more serious expression. “Has something been going on?”

Tony’s eyes flitted away. “Going on? No, no, nothing out of the ordinary. No extra alien invasions or new super villains, or…”

Peter grabbed his face and stopped his babble. “Tony. You’ve been acting weird lately. More dates, being extra cuddly, now this special ‘surprise’ dinner. What’s going on?”

“Nothing! Nope, nothing is going on. Not here.”

“Are you sick? Tony, you had that physical recently, did they find something wrong? Oh, God, FRIDAY, did he tell you not to tell me?”

Bemused, Tony clapped a hand over Peter’s mouth. “Peter. I would tell you if I was sick. Nothing is wrong. I was just a little... “

Peter’s eyes brightened in earnest and he nodded encouragingly.

“Lonely, I guess.” Tony shook his head. “No that’s not right, really. Touch starved? You never seem to want to touch me unless we’re in private and on a date. So… I called more things dates.”

Peter gently shook his head, dislodging Tony’s hands. “Why didn’t you just say something?”

Tony grimaced. “Oh, sure, what was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Peter, I’m a lonely old man who didn’t get enough affection as a kid, please hug me more’?”

“Uh… Yes?” Peter snickered. “Tony, I know your background. I know about your dad. At this point, the only people who don’t either aren’t paying attention or live with that uncontacted tribe in the Amazon.” He wrapped his arms around Tony. “I wasn’t sure how much you were interested, PDA-wise. I didn’t want to seem clingy.”

“You’re kidding me,” he groaned, tucking his head in the crook of Peter’s neck. “You’re telling me I’ve been coming up with elaborate, subtle schemes for nothing?”

“Well…”

“What?”

“They weren’t what I’d call subtle.”

“Brat.”

[official-wayward-keener]

Parkner Bingo Card - Roommates

Completely Available

Peter hasn't met his roommate, what happens when he meets his roommate?

Inspired by this post

Ao3 Link here

It was strange having not met his roommate yet. He had only talked to his sister on the phone as his roommate has been busy lately and their schedules never worked. Abby had a lot to say about her brother. He seemed like a good guy from what Peter could gather. He had met with Abby to give her the key for her brother as he was coming into town as Peter was leaving for a meeting in California with some business partners of Stark Industries. Apparently Peter’s company wanting to work with Stark Industries meant a meeting with the Stark Industries board and other business partners. He was a bit concerned about letting a stranger into his house but he figured that he would meet Harley. They had texted beforehand and Karen did a background check on him for Peter because she was paranoid if no one else was. She also had the security system in his place so Harley wouldn’t get up to anything without Peter knowing. Peter knew he should just relax but he couldn’t. He couldn’t relax knowing that a stranger was in his house. Tony seemed to notice that he was concerned.

“How’s the new roommate?” Tony asked.

“I haven’t met him but I met his sister. He is moving in this week while I’m out of town because it’s the only time before he needs to be in for work next week. He wanted to be in town early. I met with his sister while he was meeting with his boss last week to get his badge and stuff. He is supposed to be all moved in by tomorrow. I have Karen watching him,” Peter explained.

“Plus you did the background check. Karen let me know you had one run on your roommate even though she won’t snitch and tell me who your roommate is,” Tony told him.

“I didn’t want you bugging him,” Peter said. Tony just rolled his eyes as he complained a bit more as Harley took a picture of his room all set up. Peter smiled seeing that he must have seen Peter’s room and done a similar theme as Peter.

“I still want to know who is living with my kid. It’s already bad that the other one is moving to New York and won’t tell me who he is moving in with.” Tony told Peter. Peter knew about the other kid, just not his name.

“I guess you will have to wait until later,” Peter said as he went back to another meeting where Tony just followed not wanting to be in another meeting but putting up with it for Peter’s sake. Peter knew that he would be home before he knew it and they could be out of these crazy business meetings.

~

Peter walked in after a week away to an empty apartment. Harley had said he would be at work for a few hours to finalize paperwork. Peter just threw his bag onto his bed, took off his shoes and turned on the playstation 4 and started playing through Genshin Impact. He was still far behind because with work recently he couldn’t play but he went through most of the quest before he heard the door open. Peter got up as he smiled, preparing himself to meet the man who he was rooming with. Only problem was he met with the hottest guy he knew.

“Are you my new roommate?” Peter asked, clarifying that this hottie was Harley and not Harley’s boyfriend.

“Yep, I’m Harley, and you must be…” Harley started but Peter stopped him.

“Completely available,” Peter said before he realized what he said. He looked down feeling the blush on his cheeks.

“Well I mean that is nice to know,” Harley said, whose cheeks were just as red. Peter would have noticed if he looked up.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Peter admitted. Harley just chuckled and Peter looked up and saw his cheeks were just as red.

“Don’t be, Darlin’,” Harley said. “To be honest Abby said you were my type. I figured she was just making a joke about you being male but I guess she wasn’t and I should really not bet against my sister.” Peter didn’t even want to know what the bet was.

“Well I guess I should welcome you since you probably had a long day at work,” Peter said. Harley just told him it wasn’t as long and he was going to get in pjs. Peter just continued playing as Harley finally joined him and asked about his game. Peter explained the game and Harley watched his game play saying he would have to play it. It was nice to know that his roommate wasn’t going to judge him for what he was playing. Even if he had some concentration issues because of his hot roommate distracting him every ten seconds.

“You know you missed that chest just a few seconds ago,” Harley pointed out.

“Sorry I was a bit distracted,” Peter told him.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Harley told him. Peter still felt bad as he finally gave up on playing because he was a bit too distracted at this time.

“What do you want for dinner?” Peter asked him.

“You,” Harley said before he realized what he said. Peter laughed at that as he walked over to call for pizza and asked what Harley wanted on his though the other was too red to focus on anything but what he had said.

“I think we both have embarrassed ourselves enough today,” Peter reminded him. Harley finally told him what he liked as Peter ordered the pizza. Harley turned on a movie as the two roommates watched the movie, not touching in fear they might ruin their relationship as roommates and lead to a relationship.

~

Tony Stark was not surprised as Harley started ranting about his roommate. What surprised him was how he was ranting about how hot his roommate was?

“You could just ask him out and date him,” Tony said.

“Peter wouldn’t want to date me. I’m a mess,” Harley said. Tony looked at him.

“Peter?” Tony asked.

“My roommate,” Harley informed him. Tony just looked at him confused before turning to his computer and typing something into his computer. Tony just smiled as he turned back to Harley.

“Ask your roommate out. I have a feeling about you both working out,” Tony told him. Harley looked at him confused but trying to figure out Tony Stark was something that Harley had never figured out.

~

Harley had asked Peter what he wanted to go and Peter came up with the perfect date for them allowing Harley to pay since he asked Peter out. It was a decent date. The only part was weird when they got home but besides that it felt normal. The two were happy with the date for the most part and they planned to start having date nights. Peter was happy with how things were right now. He was worried how dating his roommate would be. What he wasn’t expecting was the phone call from Tony the next day.

“How are things going with your roommate?” Tony asked him.

“You didn’t call just to ask about my roommate?” Peter asked.

“Well I could just ask Harley when he is in the lab next time. As long as he isn’t talking about the date that you both had,” Tony told him. Peter didn’t know what to say. Was Harley sent by Tony to spy on him? Or was this just some coincidence?

“I got to go,” Peter said before hanging up and went looking for Harley. Harley was playing Genshin Impact. He had gotten into it because of Peter and now he was enjoying it.

“Do you know anyone named Tony?” Peter asked. Harley set the game on the player screen as he looked at Peter curious.

“An old friend of mine,” Harley said.

“Weird cause my old mentor is named Tony as well,” Peter said. Harley looked at him confused before he realized what Peter was saying.

“I can’t believe he figured out who my roommate was,” Harley said, annoyed.

“Tony Stark figures out things,” Peter said. “I’m shocked he didn’t figure it out before you moved in.”

“I wouldn’t tell him who I moved in with,” Harley said. “I can’t believe he figured it out when I just gave your first name by accident.”

“This is Tony we are talking about. I’m shocked he didn’t figure it out sooner,” Peter said.

“Well guess we'll just ignore him and not tell him anything,” Harley said. Peter liked that idea as he cuddled up to Harley on the couch as Harley turned back to the game. Peter watches giving him tips while enjoying dating his roommate.

[strangertheory]

"It's bullsh*t!"

I've been pondering the Flayed eating toxic substances in Stranger Things 3, combined with the noteworthy increase of "junk food" in the characters' diets as portrayed on-screen as the seasons progress.

Hopper enjoys a lot of chips and junk food in season 3, and it's highlighted on sceen immediately in episode 1. We see Mike consuming junk food messily while laying on the couch complaining about how he doesn't understand El. Then we have Lucas's "New Coke" scene.

I am curious if the writers intended to tie the consumption of "junk that is unhealthy and has chemicals" to the concept of junk media's influence as well, and if that will become a more overt theme in s4 with the new Video Store.

Arguably, the writers have already established that the media is directly influencing the character's thoughts and feelings about their relationships. (Re: @kaypeace21 's observations in this post and many other thoughtful posts that she has written. What the characters are watching on tv is inherently intentional, the question is: to what end?)

We know that El's understanding of culture and society outside of the lab is learned mostly from distanced observation, and she watches a lot of television. She has known incredibly few things about society until recently because she was an abused and exploited prisoner at the lab for most of her life, and many things that she learns will undoubtedly be from television.

Will the themes of ingesting chemicals, eating junk food, and consuming media (and its impact on the characters) kick into higher gear in season 4? Or was that the focus of season 3, and season 4 will reveal more of the consequences of these "chemical leaks" ?

El enjoying Eggos has been a cute character trait since season 1, but I wonder if her enjoyment of a stack of Eggos covered in whipped cream and candies while sitting at dinner with Hopper (in season 2) is going to prove more symbolically insidious by the end of the series.

Many fans have pointed out that a recurring theme in Stranger Things is how what society tells you is best isn't always actually that great. Nancy and Jonathan discussing their unhappy parents (how Joyce and Lonnie "must have loved each other at some point, but..." and how Ted and Karen thought they wanted the stereotypical, picture-perfect family but are miserable) is my favorite example of this, but there are dozens of other examples throughout the series.

I think the themes of consuming cheap romance novels, soap operas, bags upon bags of chips, microwave meals (washed down with a glass of wine), New Coke, and even cleaning chemicals (and fertilizers!) ties back into the theme of societal overconsumption of unhealthy things (or ideas) that the media and society tries to sell to you as something that will make you truly happy.

As a jaded American myself, I find it particularly fitting that this critique of the consumption of trash is being made during the 4th of July festivities in the series. Ah, yes. Let us celebrate what truly makes America Great: New Coke. Flashy, pre-packaged, mass-marketed food and ideas that you need to have in your life. And if you don't, you're unAmerican! It's the appearance that counts, not the true value and substance, right? The Mayor literally tells Hopper that the Hawkins community will forget about the police arresting protestors after they see the spectacular 4th of July festivities that he has planned. Nevermind the rot and the rust, just slap a new coat of paint on things and pretend everything is Great!

I'm curious to see if there is a thematic purpose in the Flayed devouring toxic things that extends beyond season 3. It felt kind-of inconsequential and like a comedically bad, cliché horror movie trope when it was first introduced to me in the season. I kind-of eyerolled. ("Aaa! The toothy blob-monster feeds on chemicals and poop!") But the more I think about it, the more I suspect it's intended as not only a campy horror movie trope but also as a deeper analogy to other kinds of toxic things that people gobble up that don't enrich their lives: like toxic ideas.

And this is why I personally think season 3 was incredibly calculated, and not badly written as some fans suggest. I believe that season 3, and the characters, were very much intended to feel cheap and shallow at certain points. Characters seemed out of character because they were written to be that way. The prioritization of superficiality and appearances rather than sincerity and depth of understanding and honesty. Characters were actively trying to look a certain way, or fit a certain role, repeatedly miscommunicating, often lying to people they claim to care about, and often expecting each other to conform to societal clichés in spite of already openly discussing and contradicting them (re: Hopper's outrage at Joyce for standing him up at their verbally agreed upon definitely-not-a-date dinner.)

Robin keeps a tally of how many times Steve "sucks" as he attempts to flirt with girls visiting the ice cream shop by lying to them and putting on an act, and when Robin suggests he be himself and be honest Steve laughs and shoots that idea down immediately. (Be yourself? Be honest? Why would that work?) Thankfully by the end of the season Steve recognizes how much bullsh*t he believed in that was holding him back from being happy. But I don't think all of the characters have reached that point yet in the series.

Season 3 was a candy-coated mess that had deeper, darker issues lurking just beneath the surface. And that was done on many different levels, both literal and symbolic. Something is not ok in Hawkins, and the Flayed aren't the only ones that are devouring toxic things.

I look forward to enjoying a much-needed respite in future seasons if and when the characters start to communicate better with those they love, sort-out what truly matters to them with real heart-to-hearts, and choose to live their lives authentically and with sincerity in spite of the toxic and superficial trash that society and the media throws at them.

I could be wrong, but I think there were a lot of parts of season 3 that we as fans are set up to ultimately question, and that will be revealed in future seasons to have been "bullsh*t."

[faylor]

Faint

By @faylor for @peer-parker as part of the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!

Rating: G

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark / Iron Dad

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Prompt: Peter over-works himself. - AKA Peter is REAL tired.

One week. One more week and finals would be over and done with. Then Peter could get some actual sleep. Between the constant studying every day, patrols every night, and interning for Mr. Stark, admittedly he wasn’t exactly getting the recommended eight hours of sleep at night. He was tired. Really tired. But he would never admit to it, at least not to your face. And he was pretty good at hiding it for the most part.

That is, until he accidentally dozed off in class. He couldn’t really help it though. That day’s chemistry lesson wasn’t anything new or exciting to him, so what would it hurt if he didn’t pay as much attention just this once?

“Mr. Parker?”

Peter’s head jerked upward at the sound of Mr. Harrington’s voice, his eyes immediately widening as he realized what had happened.

“Uh- I-“ he sputtered as his eyes focused on the board in the front of the room.

“As I was saying,” his teacher continued with a raised brow, “would you care to explain the name of the formula?”

Thinking quickly, Peter scanned the writings on the board, his gaze landing on said formula. “Um, it’s iron oxide. Or rust.” His voice wavered slightly with embarrassment as he felt his cheeks heat up.

“Right,” Mr. Harrington said, clearing his throat. Peter quietly sighed in relief as his teacher continued with the lecture without another word to him.

Ugh, how could he be so stupid to let himself fall asleep in the middle of class? He’d never done it before, but god was he tired. Most of his classes this semester were more advanced, which hadn’t need an issue before, but trying to balance them with being Spider-Man had proven to be maybe just a bit too much on his plate at once.

“Hey,” Ned whispered from beside him, drawing his attention. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just... late night.” Peter shrugged. “I’ll explain later.”

And by that, he meant that he’d make up some story about patrolling super late and losing track of time, which wasn’t technically a lie. But he’d definitely leave out the part about it happening over the course of the past two weeks. Peter just didn’t like for people to worry about him. He was fine, really. Maybe he’d just have to sacrifice an hour or two a night on patrol until finals were over with. He could live with that. Maybe.

After school, Peter did his usual routine of homework and then studying, followed by dinner and more studying. By the time nine o’clock rolled around, he decided to retire his textbooks for the night and trade them in for his suit, which he slipped on before quietly escaping out his bedroom window.

It was only about an hour in on his patrol when his fatigue really started to hit him, but he figured all he needed was a short break. So he made his way to one of his favorite rooftops downtown and sat down on the ledge, letting his feet swing as he gazed out at the city. It was all in all a relaxing sight, which didn’t much help his state.

His head was all but spinning, and his limbs suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. His eyelids were fighting him to close, but he had to stay alert. He had to stay awake.

But sleep would be so nice, he thought. Maybe if he just took a short nap. He could have Karen wake him up and he’d be right back at it- No, he had to stay awake. He had to. But his eyes were beginning to betray him as they started to slip closed, and then he was out.

Something had suddenly jolted him awake, though - his senses practically screaming at him. His eyes flickered back and forth, widening as he saw the ledge he’d been sitting on getting further and further away. He was... falling?

“Shit!” Peter gasped. He had to think fast.

He quickly outstretched his arm, activating his web shooter toward the building. The relief of swinging away never came though. Instead, he felt himself hit the ground, hard. His back and head were immediately drowning in a wave of pain that made him groan with a strained voice, and that familiar feeling of heavy eyes quickly came back again. This time, he didn’t hesitate to give in to it.

The next thing Peter remembered was the feeling of floating. Was he still falling? No. He remembered hitting the ground. Or had he dreamt that? Was the whole thing a dream? Was he still just asleep on the rooftop? He really had hoped so. He hoped that he was fine. That he had just dozed off on the roof and he was just dreaming and that everything was okay.

That train of thought was entirely derailed as the faint yet distinct beeping of a heart monitor started to fill his ears. At about the same time, the back of his head began to ache, alongside practically the rest of his body. Okay, so he had definitely fallen, and he was definitely not dreaming. But where was he? And how the hell had he gotten there?

He fluttered his eyes open, his vision started to focus on his surroundings. He could tell he was in some sort of hospital room, but it definitely wasn’t a regular hospital. It was almost as if he knew, but his head was still spinning and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“And there he is,” an all too familiar voice sounded from his side. His head jerked toward the source as his brows furrowed.

“M-Mssr Stark?” Peter slurred, his eyes slightly widening.

“How’re you feeling, kiddo?” Mr. Stark asked, taking a small step toward him.

“I- My head...”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s gonna be sore for a bit, thanks to that lovely concussion you got from falling - what was it - ten stories?” His mentor raised a brow, his lips pressed into a fine line.

Peter’s face immediately shifted to a mixture of embarrassment, surprise, and guilt. He could tell Tony knew exactly what had happened last night. Wait, had it been last night? Or the day before. Peter could quite tell how long he’d been out. It honestly felt like days.

“Karen showed me everything, Pete.” He sighed, his expression turning to concern. “How much sleep are you getting at night?”

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but the words never made it out. Instead, they were replaced with a sigh and a slight head shake. “I’m sorry...” he mumbled.

“Kid, listen,” Mr. Stark started, making his way over to Peter’s bedside. “I know I agreed to not spy on you and look through your suit recordings, but I wanted to figure out what was going on.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “Karen told me you’ve been out patrolling until two in the morning sometimes. Wanna tell me why?”

Peter hesitated, a sigh sipping past his lips. “I- It’s just that- Finals are coming up and I’ve been kinda struggling with a couple of classes and I just wanted to make sure I did really good on the finals, you know? So I’ve been trying to study a lot more, which means I don’t get to patrol until later so I-“

“Take a breath, Pete,” Mr. Stark cut him off, a half amused smile on his face. “At least now I know why you’ve seemed so spaced out in the lab recently.”

“I- I wasn’t spaced out. Just... not as, uh, focused.” He gave his mentor a sheepish smile.

Mr. Stark hummed, an eyebrow slightly raised. “You don’t need to be working yourself that hard.”

“I know, I know... It’s just- I mean I’ve been trying to make sure I can do everything that I need to, and I guess I haven’t really been keeping track of time and-“ he sighed, his head slightly dropping as his fingers toyed with one another in his lap. “And I’m just trying to keep up with my responsibilities. I can’t just not be Spider-Man.” His tone turned dismal.

Somewhere in the back of Peter’s mind, he knew that he probably should’ve cut his patrols short for the time being and catch up on sleep, but he also knew that his guilt would be eating him away at the thought of Spider-Man not being there for his neck of the woods every day.

On the other hand, he should’ve known better. Getting about three or four hours of sleep at most over the past couple of weeks had definitely not been treating him well, and it only kept getting worse and worse. And now he knew the repercussions of that.

Mr. Stark was quiet for a moment, looking at Peter with a mixture of worry, yet with understanding.

“Hey,” he placed a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder, prompting his attention. “I know I’m not exactly the poster child for proper sleep schedules, or time management for that matter... But Pete, you gotta realize that being responsible is also remembering to take care of yourself sometimes, too. Your finals are important, yeah. And being Spider-Man is, too. I get that. But you can’t keep over-working yourself and sacrificing sleep just so you can cram everything into your life at once. You’ve gotta take time for yourself, you know.”

Peter’s gaze found its way to his mentor, his head nodding a bit. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Pete.” He brushed a stray curl from Peter’s forehead. “And don’t feel like you can’t take a night off or two from being Spider-Baby if you need to.” A slight smirk formed on Mr. Stark’s features before it turned into a more genuine smile. “No more patrolling on nights you’re gonna be out past eleven, alright?”

Peter’s features formed a small smile of their own. “Fine.”

“Good.” Mr. Stark returned his smile. “Now you need to get some more actual rest, kiddo. You’ve got one nasty concussion to sleep off. Not to mention the cracked rib. And the major bruising-“

“I get it, I get it,” Peter laughed, playfully swatting a hand at him.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, kid.”

“Don’t wait up, Mr Stark.” He slightly smirked, his eyes already drifting closed. “I’ve got a lot of sleep to catch up on...”

Tag List: @zissa93 @mala-sadas @romeoandjulietyouwish @justme--emily

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[imposterellie]

Imprisonment - Febuwhump Day 3

Peter doesn't know where he is, or why his powers aren't working; all he knows is that he's desperately hungry, and that Tony doesn't know he's missing.

Will he be found in time?

**TW - violence, swearing, description of vomiting, pain infliction, food being withheld from characters, passing out, panic attacks**

@febuwhump

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The air was bitingly cold as Peter swung among the streets in Queens. This patrol had been quiet, and he’d spent most of it sat on the rooftops, trying his best to keep himself warm. Even with the built-in heating system in his spiderman suit, it was still bitter outside, and he was beginning to consider calling it a night. He harboured too much guilt to go inside sooner than was absolutely necessary; what if he woke up and there was a story on the news about someone who had been robbed and he wasn’t there to prevent it! So no, he would brave the weather until he could barely feel his fingers, just so that it was still safe to swing home.

He sighed in relief, upon deciding it was best that he went home, and leapt off the side of the building he’d landed on 20 minutes earlier. He swung towards his apartment building, looking forward to getting out of his suit and snuggling up in his bed. It was the weekend so he could have a nice lie-in in the morning whilst he let May sleep in from her night shift. Peter was invested in the thought of a hot shower and his cosy bed, so invested that he didn’t pay attention to his spidey senses. He didn’t notice the drone until it was far too late. By the time he realised something was wrong, the drone had fired a shot of electricity at him that was specific to his suit and powerful enough that it short circuited the systems. He lost control of the web shooters and dropped like a stone. Plummeting towards the ground, Peter tried everything to get Karen back online but to no avail. He hadn’t been too high off the ground when he was shot but he hit the street head-first and it was enough to knock him out.

----------------------------------------------------------

Peter woke slowly, his head throbbing fiercely. He groaned, thinking his enhanced healing would take care of it soon enough, before realising with a jolt that he was not at home as he had expected to be. The room felt wrong, even laid down with his eyes closed, he felt off balance somehow. He fought past the pain in his head to open his eyes carefully and was surprised when his vision was blurry. He squinted and tried again but his sight didn’t change. He couldn’t see anything clearly much further than a metre away. It was like his sight before he had been bitten by the spider.

“What the…?” He mumbled to himself, confused, and becoming a little worried. It was then that Peter came to a little bit more and realised his wrists were restrained. But it was weird, the cuffs didn’t feel like the ones he was usually tied up with (he’d think about being concerned how normal being tied up was once he was out of the situation). He spent a few minutes messing around with them, seeing if they had any mechanism, he could use to get out of them but he had no luck. They were staying on until he was let out of them. He felt that they were digging painfully into his wrists, so he shifted to try and dislodge them, but a bright flash of white, hot pain seared in his head. He paused to let the pain subside, breathing heavily. The second he halted his movements, the pain stopped.

“Ah shit.” Peter whispered as it dawned on him just what the cuffs were doing to him. Somehow, someone had figured out a way to dampen his abilities and had practically reverted him back to his pre-bite self. Ah shit indeed. This was not an ideal situation at all. Especially as he remembered the massive hit to the head he’d gotten which he was very, very aware was not healing itself.

He sat up gingerly, careful not to worsen his headache, and took a look around him. The lack of windows and only a bed, toilet, and iron bars in the room indicated to him that he was very clearly in a cell. Where though, he had no idea. He also had no idea why. From what he could remember, he hadn’t pissed off any bad guys recently so he couldn’t fathom why anyone would have cause to kidnap him. And yet, here he was.

Peter spent what he assumed was a few hours just sitting there, waiting for someone to come into his cell and start torturing him or something but no one did. He just sat there, wallowing in self-pity and boredom. After the first few hours he realised just how desperately hungry he was. And yet no one came.

At one point, he tried to bend the bars, but with his power dampened it barely even creaked. He was well and truly stuck. And no one was coming for him.

He lost track of time. What could have been days was merely hours. The lack of sunlight to track the time meant he just had to sit there, getting hungrier, thirstier and more frustrated as the time went on. He tried to yell out, but his voice just became hoarse without a drink to keep him hydrated, it also made his headache worse as his voice echoed around the small chamber. Without his enhanced eyesight, Peter didn’t see the camera in the darkness. It was in the corner of the chamber outside his cell, just recording consistently and that recording was being streamed directly to a phone. It was a good thing Peter didn’t know about the camera because if he knew who the footage was going to, he’d want out faster.

------------------------------------------------------------

Tony Stark was sat in his lab tinkering away at one of his newest inventions. It was 6am and he had not yet ventured to bed. Pepper would be furious, but he was so excited to show Peter, that he couldn’t possibly sleep until it was done. The hours following passed by quickly, Tony periodically checked the clock and ate food every so often before finally stopping at around 4:30. It was Friday, the day Peter came up to the compound to spend the weekend with Tony. As much as tony wouldn’t admit it, he counted down the days until Peter would be coming over. He loved that kid as if he was his own, but again, would never tell him that.

There had been radio silence from Peter the past few days but that wasn’t concerning, Pete’s finals were coming up and Tony knew he would be busy so just sent a quick check-up text and left it at that. The next two hours dragged by slowly and Tony began worrying. Peter was often late but he’d usually text to let him know. Nothing. Until FRIDAY said,

“Sir, there is an incoming video call from an unknown number. Would you like me to answer it?”

Tony felt his stomach drop. Usually that meant Peter was injured or in hospital or something. He knew he should better answer it in case it was the kid’s friend Ted. Ned.

“Yeah, patch it through to the tablet.” Tony said as he picked his iPad up off the table, preparing himself for the worst.

“Already done sir”

The image that came through was worse than the worst that Tony could’ve possibly prepared himself for. It was video footage of Peter, trying to yank apart the bars of a cell he was in, yelling. Tony turned to the side of the desk and vomited straight into his bin. Peter looked awful, malnourished, bruised, and he was squinting as though he either couldn’t see or had a horrendous headache. Why couldn’t Peter get out of the cell? He had superstrength, Tony couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. It took Tony a minute of staring due to the grainy footage to notice the cuffs around Peter’s wrists. They were menacing looking things, causing blood to trickle down his arms if he moved and Tony immediately realised they were dampening Peter’s abilities. He vomited again.

“FRIDAY?” He said quietly. “Can you trace the IP of the stream?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry sir, the IP has been heavily encrypted. I cannot get through.” Tony wracked his brain, trying to come up with another way to find the kid.

“See if you can find locations in a 30-mile radius that fit the specs from the stream. Anything with basements that are in a quiet area where no people walking past would hear a kid shouting. And do it quickly.” Tony stood, clutching the tablet in his hand. He brought up a large hologram map of the area, watching as FRIDAY indicated locations that matched the description.

“Sir, there are 5 possible locations that Peter could be. I’ve also scanned his condition and it appears as though his metabolism is still intact, despite his main powers being dampened. There is no evidence that this video is live so there’s a high possibility that Peter will be very dehydrated and malnourished when he is found.”  Tony paid very little attention to the information his AI was presenting him with. His logical brain had shut down, panic starting to take over. He retrieved his phone from the desk and tapped on the speed dial. The phone rang several times before someone picked up.

“Tony?”

“May.” Tony sighed a little in relief to hear her voice.

“What’s the matter? Has something happened to Peter? Do I need to come and get him?” May asked, suddenly frantic. Tony was confused, it sounded like May already knew Peter was in danger.

“May, where is Peter? Is he at home?”

“No. He left a note saying he was spending the next past few days with you. Has he not been at the compound?” May panicked further, “What’s going on?”

Tony settled himself, knowing that if he panicked too it would only make things worse.

“I think you should come over here as soon as you can, that note wasn’t from Peter. He’s in trouble.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

FRIDAY barely had time to announce May’s presence when she burst in through the doors. She looked a mess. It was clear she had just finished a long shift and she’d spent a lot of the drive over crying, due to the tear tracks staining her face. Tony met her in the communal room, it was a slightly more welcoming environment than the entrance lobby.

“Where’s my nephew?” She demanded as soon as she saw Tony. Tony didn’t say a word, just pulled up the footage that had burned itself into his memory. When it finished, May’s face was grey.

“Oh god.”

“I know, we’ve narrowed down the places he might be and I’m getting the team together to go looking for him right now.”

“He looks so ill.” May’s hand covered her mouth, she was swaying on her feet so Tony took her arm and guided her gently to a seat. He crouched down in front of her, meeting her eyes and grasping her hands in his.

“I promise I will find him May, whatever it takes. I’ll find him and I’ll fix this mess.” She nodded blankly and stared into space, as if she had lost the ability to function in her grief. Tony’s phone rang, the name ‘Steve’ popping up on the screen. He took one long look at May before leaving the room and answering.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Time was nothing anymore. Nothing but pain filled his senses. He could barely breathe without pain in his head, in his chest, in his everything. He’d been tortured before, sure. But this was a whole different level. He’d never been starved before and he’d decided very quickly that he never wanted it to happen ever again. Peter had no energy at all. His injuries weren’t healing and he could barely keep his eyes open. He’d given up shouting for help what felt like years ago.

His throat was dry and every time he swallowed, it felt like knives raking down into his lungs. Is this what it felt like to die? Alone and hungry in a tiny cell, drifting in and out of consciousness with nothing but the ever-present darkness as company.

He closed his eyes as the pounding in his head grew louder. He just wanted it all to go away.

“Tony. ‘m sorry.” He mumbled, letting himself finally start to drift off.

“No you don’t kid, we’re gonna get you out of here.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

They had found him. It took the whole team and several breakdowns from Tony to pinpoint Peter's exact location. They fought the guards enough for Tony to get through and find Peter. The rest of his team were upstairs, dispatching the culprits. He got to work lasering through the bars with his suit.

“Ben?” Peter whispered, “Tha- you?”

“No kid, it’s Tony. You’re not dead, not if I have anything to do with it.” Tony felt his heart shatter, he knew they were running out of time. His lasers were struggling to get through the cell bars; It was very slow progress but it was working.

“Good.” Peter smiled softly, “knew you’d come for me.”

Tony spoke past the thick lump in his throat, “Always Underoos. Always.”

Peter didn’t respond, he’d finally passed out.

“We’ve dispatched all the guys upstairs; Nat is interrogating the ones who are still alive now.” Steve spoke from behind Tony.

“Good.” Tony replied grunting with the effort of keeping the lasers steady, he was almost through the thick metal, almost had his kid back in his arms. The metal split with a groan and Tony leapt into action, attempting to yank the bars apart where they’d been split. He kicked it hard in frustration when it refused to budge, even with the suit’s extra strength.

“Here. Here Tony, we’ll do it together.” Steve interrupted before tony injured himself. He positioned himself on the other side of the bars to Tony and braced himself to pull them apart. “Ready?” Tony nodded, barely concentrating but a new set of determination in his eyes. “Pull!”

The bars groaned as they bent apart, Steve’s muscles straining. They reached a point where Tony could exit his suit and squeeze through the gap. He rushed straight to Peter’s side. The boy was out cold, thin and shivering. Tony bundled him into his arms and squeezed straight out of the cell, dashing up towards the Quinjet. Steve was covering his back as they ran through the building, though there were no men left to fight. Their shouts could be heard throughout the area as Nat went to work extracting information. Tony had no idea what they were doing to them, and quite honestly, he didn’t want to know.

They reached the aircraft in record time. They could’ve flown home in Tony’s suit but Peter’s condition was too severe. A medical team met them on the ship, Bruce Banner at its lead, as they took Peter from Tony’s arms and got straight to work.

They took off immediately. Tony collapsed against the wall, sliding down onto the floor. He felt the panic rise up in his chest, the fear a tight ball in his lungs. His breath became sporadic and short as his vision became fuzzy. His jumped as a hand rested gently on his shoulder.

“Breathe Tony.” Steve said quietly, crouched down in front of the man. “They’re looking after him, he’s safe.” Tony continued to hyperventilate.

“Tony.” Steve said more forcefully, “look at me.” Tony managed to look at him, his vision still blurry but he focused on Steve’s face. “I need you to breathe with me, I’ll show you look, breathe with me.”

Steve started to breathe loudly and steadily, focusing on Tony’s chest. His breathing slowly started to even out as his panic subsided. They sat in silence for several minutes, both using each other’s company to combat the fear.

[imaginesmaimasterlists]

You can request about any of the characters above, or any other masterlists I have (here), always following the Requests Rules. My main blog is @imaginesmai​

💕:Fluff

🎈: Funny

💋: Smut

😭: Angst

⭐: Personal favourite.

🥇: The most popular fic in each category (it might change).

Angst Alphabet

Fluff Alphabet

Prompt List 1

Kink-November

(This will be posted in AO3 format; you can read them threre)

About glitter, princesses and your usual Karen

Peter Stark likes fairies, Frozen and wands. He lover glitter, dressing with tutus, and his father. Karen Wildmore is just your common b*tch, and Tony isn't taking any of her bullishint.

Baby carriers and other incidents

Tony just wanted a nice, quiet walk with his baby, that's all.

Don’t forget about me

Transient global amnesia is a sudden, temporary episode of memory loss that can't be attributed to a more common neurological condition, such as epilepsy or stroke. During an episode of transient global amnesia, your recall of recent events simply vanishes, so you can't remember where you are or how you got there. Peter Parker is only six year's old, enjoying a birthday party. But he doesn't remember why he's there anymore, or why his hand is all red and swollen. He just wants his dad, and Tony Stark wants his son to be alright.

Don’t talk to me or my son ever again

Tony is having the worst day ever, and now he has a meeting with the Rogue Avengers. What he doesn't expect is certain spider baby to proclaim himself Tony Stark Protector.

Hold on, I still need you

What if Peter was there when John slammed the shield? He calls Tony because the new Captain America is now running behind him, with the shield ready to kill. Tony might not make it in time.

Home is wherever I’m with you

Tony Stark, a preschool teacher, notices one of his students isn't in the best environment - 4-year-old Peter Parker, whose adoptive family don't give a damn about him. After he's left behind for the thousand time, he decides to do something about it. Even if it means changing his life from upside down.

Hope for a miracle

Tony Stark decides to hold up a charity event with North Star, an orphanage for young boys and girls in a delicate situation. What intended to be just a one-time thing changes when he meets Peter Parker, a ten-year-old boy with a weird charm and a permanent limp. He's not just any boy, thought, and Tony discovers that soon.

Thanks to Margarethe Donnell, the orphanage's head, and some luck on their side, they discover just how much they need each other.

I’ll be home for Christmas

Tony Stark doesn't like Christmas, and he never will. But he doesn't expect Peter to warm his way into his heart that fast, so it's only natural when he's proved how wrong he was.

Let me hold you close, until you forget how cruel the world is

Homecoming dance is up, and Tony has a free spider-baby night that is gonna spend locked in the lab. Things turn out different when kids are proven to be horrible once more, and now the man has more important matters than his projects; like a crying teenager who needs him close.

Or

Liz isn't so good and gives Peter a fake address to pick her up for the dance. Even worse, a group of boys pass Peter while he's waiting for her and throw him a raw egg. And Peter wants Tony.

My little bambino

Tony always calls Peter 'bambino', and Peter thinks that's his true name. Hence to problems in school, mean teacher that hate Tony, and a very protective dad.

Obi, you’re not nice

Peter is crying, Tony is panicking, and Obadiah doesn't know how to be a good uncle and person.

Ohana

Pepper Potts is Peter Stark's teacher, and she's reluctant to admit that there is more than just a professional teacher-family relationship there. When some kids decide it's a good idea to torment Peter, she discovers her feelings for the Stark are deeper than what she thought

Rachel Baily, you're a meany - sincerely, the Starks

Peter Stark is supposed to be home when Tony arrives from work. But he just finds an empty bed and a voicemail from May Parker, Peter's teacher, with a very upset and teary boy in the background.

The life of Tony and Peter Stark through the years

This are just some unrelated, short fics about moments in the Stark house, featuring Peter and Tony Stark!! (mostly as baby!Peter)

The past is knocking on my door

Peter and Tony are kidnapped, apparently by a mad scientist who wants to experiment on Peter. What they don't know, is that Tony's past is behind the cell's door, ready to make them live through their worst nightmare.

-

“No touching until the light turns green. If it turns red, return the specimen to the corner of the room and leave it there” the man said, not looking up at Tony. “You can’t share your food with it, as it has an special diet. It doesn’t go in the bed, only the floor. Marcus will pick it up in the morning and return at night. As long as the light is green, it’s yours to do whatever you want.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Tony growled, his own heart aching at the way he kept referring to Peter as ‘it’. The boy didn’t move from his place. “You better let us go, because if you don’t I promise I’m gonna destroy this place with you in it.”

“Of course, breaking any of this rules would get a punishment” the man said, ignoring Tony.

The tooth fairy fiasco

What is meant to be one of Peter's happiest days turns around when a stranger in his house breaks out an horrible truth that he wasn't supposed to know for another few years; that the tooth fairy isn't real. Thankfully, Tony isn't about to let Peter childhood to be ruined.

To love someone a lot, a tale by Peter Stark

Tony Stark isn't the best dad - distant, cold, almost neglectful. But when his ex-wife dies, he has to take care of his son; 5-year-old Peter, a boy with too many allergies and that can't talk to Tony without stuttering. Follow the path of two hurt people, a man and a boy, who learn how to love each other through thick and thin. (Bambi and Game Plan AU)

To love someone a lot, from the beggining

Tony meets his son for the first time, and the doubts appear.

Tony’s birthday and his amazing present

During December, Peter and Tony have a conversation about Tony's past. And that leads Peter to find the perfect present for his dad, with a bit of love for the man - the only thing he needs, is to believe it.

You complete me

Five year old Peter Parker doubts his father's love for him when a new kid in school says that he's not really complete.

You’re the brightest star in my sky

There is a before and after in Tony's life, marked by his son's birth; Peter Benjamin Stark, who has the mission of making his dad's heart melt as many times as possible. And Tony doesn't waste a second of his life wondering what the best part of his world is.

What a tooth

Peter Stark is teething, in pain and loud. Tony Stark is a tired, soft and dumb dad. Just pure fluff, baby Peter and daddy Tony.

What I would do for you

Peter Stark's first day of school is ruined by some paparazzi. The boy is already shy and dependant of Tony, so the incident only makes it worse. Thankfully, between Tony and Pepper they find a way to fix it.

Where my heart lies

Peter Stark is taken from his school's parking lot, and 46 hours later, Tony receives a message with a location. Steve, Rhodey and Sam follow him to an abandoned building with a unpleasant surprise inside - that will put Tony's nerves at test.

-

Or: (SPOILER) Peter is kidnapped and Tony finds him with a bomb hanging from his chest. Time is not something they have.

Will keep you safe for all my life, will have my heart for all the time

Tony Stark is a lot of things, but a father-figure isn't one of them. He loves parties, women and being alone in his lab; and a three year old kid isn't part of it. But when Peter Benjamin Parker turns into his tiny shadow and glues to his side like a baby duckling, there isn't much he can do about it; only accept the new feelings that are bloosoming on his heart, and understand that the tiny kid was the piece he was missing.

or

The journey of a lonely-hurt man and a neglected-abused kid as they navigates through a new found family.

With all my heart

Tony Stark isn't the best dad - distant, cold, almost neglectful. But when his ex-wife dies, he has to take care of his son; 5-year-old Peter, a boy with too many allergies and that can't talk to Tony without stuttering. Follow the path of two hurt people, a man and a boy, who learn how to love each other through thick and thin.

-

A Bambi AU (Disney) that @buckets_of_stars inspired me into writting that I've mixed with The Game Plan.

[pasmonblog]

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). see if there are any patterns. choose your favorite opening line. then tag some of your favorite authors.

Tagged by: @darlingshane (thanks for the tag! 💜)

My 20 most recent intros (according to AO3) below the cut,

Wanda was trying really hard not to throw up. (The Sound Of You And Me, Bucky/Wanda)

She hadn’t been there a week, and Bucky Barnes could see it a mile away. (Rooftops, Bucky/Wanda)

Jane Foster was as good as dead to the world. Floating between two machines (hooked up to some old CRTs she managed to fish out of the trash at their last lab gig), there was a cavernous crease between her eyebrows as she tried to get the settings just right. For what? Darcy Lewis wasn’t quite sure.  (My Way Home Is Through You, Bucky/Darcy)

“I think you need to work on your patience.” (A Lesson In Patience, Daisy/Daniel)

Between missions and meetings, there were almost average nights for Wanda and James— sometimes. (What You Want, Bucky/Wanda)

They’d been dancing around each other all night. (As A Treat, Wanda/Bucky/Darcy)

Darcy had been in the Tower all of ten hours. And, in that time, she’d found out that three hours was apparently all it took for Tony Stark to organize a full-blown party. (The Good Fight, Sam/Darcy)

“Are you sure we’re going to be alright?” (On What You’re On, Darcy/Wanda)

Darcy rapped her fingers on the desktop a few times before realizing that might come off as more ‘Karen’ than ‘crapping her pants’ as she waited for the smiling receptionist blonde-haired receptionist, Tandy, as it read on her name-tag, to finish a phone call. (I Know A Place, Darcy/Natasha)

“Why is the wait for the elevator always an eternity?” (Perfect, Darcy/Natasha)

“Lucky, I swear to god you’re worse than your dad. You know which one.” (Her Boys, Darcy/Clint/Bucky)

Claire Temple’s fingers trailed down to the front of his pants, teasingly outlining the bulge straining against the material. (Friction, Claire/Matt)

Today was their last day on Earth. Not in the depressing end-of-life sort of way, but just factually. This was the last day they’d set foot on Earth for the foreseeable future. (Last Night On Earth, Daisy/Daniel)

Today was turning out to be a bit of a struggle. (Glorious You, Darcy/Wanda)

It was hard to hear over the pounding in his skull. Even harder to see in the dark. (Outnumbered, Frank/Karen)

It seemed everyone involved could vividly remember the first day they ever met Darcy Lewis. Although most days it was hard to place— that day when she suddenly was. It was kind of like she floated out of the sky if they thought about it too hard. Like she had drifted in on a breeze and landed right into their laps. (A Spoonful of Sugar, Clint/Darcy)

The power was out again. Only the moonlit the sprawling earth below. The rolling blackouts were almost comforting, watching the city around them reduced to dark in an instant, urging the country to sleep. As if they’d wake in the morning to find this all a bad dream. As if they were that lucky to dream such awful things. (Lost And (Cannot Be) Found, Natasha/Steve)

James Buchanan Barnes was furious. He had perfected that particular brand of silent fury that quickly tipped his teammates off, rushing away from the scene before he needed to say anything. Something about that locked jaw and cold eyes. That ‘standing just outside the door of Steve’s office’ kind of furious. (Long Story Short, I Survived, Wanda/Bucky)

“Mom, I’ll be there in eight hours.” (Because It's You I See, Clint/Darcy)

Did everyone just ignore it, or was Darcy the only one who could actually see what was going on here? (Accidentally On Purpose, Steve/Darcy/Bucky)

Most of these are just immediate cuts to someone doing something, quick takes, often setting up the initial vibe of our narrator or the setting. “Someone was something” is clearly a go-to of mine, and I usually take that first paragraph to unpack at least part of why.

My favorite is probably 17. Lost And (Cannot Be) Found- that was a very different kind of intro for me, and I still really love how that fic turned out.

Tagging @treaddelicately, @grimeysociety, @sarahbeniel, @earnmysong, @simmerandcry, (no pressure) and anyone who would like to give this a go! 💜

[pkmnsdarkqueen]

Ice Log, Audio Journal-Pryce

Some of the audio log of Pryce’s experiments with the children and Ho-oh and Lugia to get an idea of what happened

TW: child abuse 

Day xxx Age of children-14

I’ve brought the two newest to the remote location where I am housing the legendaries. Since keeping them in pokeballs has proved difficult. The hex upon them seems to weaken in the devices thus I’m forced to have them housed. Both children have proven a great deal of loyalty. I find it time they meet the legendary pokemon I have housed, perhaps gain even more of their respect through this. 

Day xxx Age of children-14

I have come upon an.....interesting discovery, but I am not sure what to make of it. I find myself in a situation akin to a horror movie since bringing the children to this site. They have come to me five times today claiming to hear screaming from the barn, and question how no one hears it. They say it’s human like. The only alive thing there is the legendaries. It has been less than a day of being here, how could they know anything?

Day xxx Age of children-14

I’ve refused them access to the barn, and am trying to nail down the cause. The more I look into it the more maddening this is. Carl and Sham have failed to hear anything. Both Will and Karen have come independently of one another to tell me. It disrupts their training as they show deep signs of distress when hearing these supposed screams. I have also found it often correlates to when tests are done of the legendary pokemon, or I am renewing the hex over them to hold my bond to them. I will try wait a bit longer to document more.

Day xxx Age of children-14

I have found no other explanation. Something about these children and the legendaries is connected. I must introduce them.

Day xxx Age of children-14

I let the boy go first. With his psychic abilities if something were to go wrong then I suppose he would have a better chance at fighting off the legendary Lugia till I could regain control of the hex. At this that is what I figured. However I was shocked to find how little he struggled. With the tidal bell in hand, and silver wing the hex seemed to instinctively latch to him. There was only a minimal struggle from Lugia before the pokemon succumbed to his control. Naturally I was taken aback as it took an hour for the bond to attach with myself, but this child had no issues. We are now seeing how long he can hold it. 

Day xxx Age of children-14

It was roughly hour 8 that the child was finally loosing control, and had to reinstate the hex over the pokemon. Again he took to it naturally though seemed distressed while doing it claiming he heard the pokemon screaming again. All we heard was the usual pokemon cries, but he claimed to hear words. Naturally I told him I had held the hex longer and he’d grow in time when in actuality it took quite some time to get to his level. Now to see what the girl can manage, and if he has any luck with Ho-oh.

Day xxx Age of children-14

Note to self. Do not mix their pokemon. The girl shows the same aptitude with Ho-oh. Naturally she had the rainbow wing and clear bell with her also. When trying to introduce the hex to the opposing pokemon immediate chaos broke out. They seem to excel with one certain pokemon, and if trying to attach to the other the hex rejects them out right. Won’t be making that mistake again. 

Day xxx Age of children-16

Tests with the children and their respective pokemon continues. They’ve grown exceptionally over the years with control of their respective pokemon. Not only can they control them outside an enclosed environment, but have intense battles with relitive ease in control. Rocket remains none the wiser. 

Day xxx Age of children-17

I had hoped we’d find something by now. Some tangible explanation, but there’s nothing. We’ve preformed countless medical tests by now, x-rays, collected samples, the whole nine yards which I have kept careful documentation of. Hell we’ve even tried dental studies to see if there’s something, but nothing. No shred of explanation as to what is giving these children such careful control of legendaries. Their bond with the pokemon grows too. I worry they could revolt if I am not careful. 

Day xxx Age of children-17

I originally thought it possible the boy’s psychic abilities had to do with his link to Lugia though that never explained why the girl failed to show any results to having say pyrotechnic abilities. I’m beginning to think the psychic abilities he has are wholly separate from the connection to Lugia. Despite this gap the girl has seemed to keep up in fighting abilities, impressively so. However that also drew me to question if there was a separation between the legendary connection and their strengths. The true kicker was what the girl said to me an hour ago. I was in my study and she knocked on the door coming in with some tea saying I could use some. Granted I have been stressed with the recent failure of Carl and Sham’s last mission, but I had not left my office nor did she know about this as they had called me directly. I asked her how she knew I was stressed, and she seemed equally curious on how she reached that conclusion before shrugging and claiming she simply,’felt it from me, and Will told her I likely wanted tea.’ I hadn’t thought about it before, but both her and the boy seem to do that often. She always seems to know how people feel, and he always seems to know what people want. I had taught them that as good manipulation tactics, but....they understood it so quickly, as if they already knew each time. If Lugia is the guardian of souls, and Ho-oh of hearts...I wonder....could that be translated to desires, and feelings?

Day xxx Age of children-17

I am more convinced of my heart and soul theory having tested them more and more. I wonder....how alike are they to the legendaries, what powers can they access?

Day xxx Age of children-18

I have begun to research into the tower burning. Where the beasts were resurrected. Medically we have still found nothing, and the children grow more apprehensive of these lab visits while I grow tired of them. I truly think now I maybe onto something in researching these legends. Ho-oh is capable of rebirth, correct? The only thing stopping me from bringing back my pokemon’s parents is Ho-oh’s cooperation in reviving them. That’s how I view it at least. Now to find out how it happened once to make it happen again.

Day xxx Age of children-18

It seems I am not the first to have this idea, and I praise my luck I am not. The ruins of Alph speak about the power in Ho-oh’s resurrection bringing up the cycle of life. Apparently there are ties to pokemon in Kalos as well, but Ho-oh is the beginning of this process the rebirth of life. So with those pokemon far past the final step it is time for rebirth.

Day xxx Age of children-19

I have it ready finally. The ritual is set, and the girl understands her job. After tomorrow I’ll have peace again.

Day xxx Age of children-19

Perhaps I should of done more research into those Kalos pokemon. The ritual, as the listener to this, if anyone listens to this besides myself can safely assume it failed. I followed everything to the T, and I do think it went properly. At least somewhat. The girl entered a trance of sorts after seeming to fall unconscious. She was misty eyed, literally, and to be blunt I feared dead by how lifeless her body looked. However the carvings I made continued to glow, and Ho-oh continued to glow giving off an aura. Then cuts appeared on the girl, claw marks, gashes, simply various wounds. Everything seemed to cut out suddenly as she snapped to shaking and crying hardly noticing her injuries as she clutched herself. She spoke gibberish for a bit before calming enough to explain what happened. Apparently she entered some dark space with nothing around, but a door in the far distance, and Ho-oh desperately trying to pull away from it. The closer she got to it, and pushed the bird two voices told her to stop, that the living weren’t allowed there, it was too late the souls have moved on. Then they attacked. She doesn’t recall what attacked her exactly as they felt like shadows, but there was talons, hooves, a beak, and horns all taking blows at her till she couldn’t fight anymore. I noticed then Ho-oh was wounded too. For now healing. I will try again another time, she promises she can get to the door next time for me.

Day xxx Age of children-19

I have tried multiple times with the girl now. Each time she only comes back more injured, and shaken. I have continued research on the ritual since. I will integrate the boy with her this next time. Perhaps the two of them can finally reach some silly door.

Day xxx Age of children-19

Still nothing. Medical results yield again, nothing. There is something to this that is past our current understanding of science. The children grow no closer to this supposed door even together, and are continuously told by what I can only assume to be xerneas and yveltal that the souls of my pokemon’s parents are too far gone. They’ve already moved past. As infuriating as this is I have found a possible solution to my strife in my detailed research of legendary pokemon of this region. If I can not raise them from the dead which apparently requires some machine in Kalos, or give them the rebirth of new life as was done with the beasts then I will try something simpler, time travel. 

[akillerqueenwrites]

idiot billionaire superhero father

by @akillerqueenwrites for @elwenn-dreaming for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

prompt: 'Peter finds sick/drunk/injured Tony who is trying to hide it'

rating: teen

relationships: peter parker & tony stark, tony stark & james rhodes

Tony Stark is dying. He’s avoided this once already, catching the palladium poisoning before it could turn serious, but now…

It's a year after the defeat of Thanos and Tony's technology has turned against him. Luckily, he has a best friend, a sneaky AI and a stubborn kid on his side.

read on ao3!

It’s a beautiful day in New York City. The sun is shining. The grass is green. Tony Stark is dying.

It’s been a little over a year since they beat Thanos – together, just like Steve had said – in a Wakandan forest. Anticlimactic, almost, for something that had haunted Tony since the day the Avengers were formed. A quiet end to his worst nightmare, punctuated only by the swing of Thor’s axe, of Nebula’s sword.

Tony had worn his nanotech suit that day, as had Peter for the first time. Peter’s had saved him, kept bad injuries from being much worse, but Tony’s…hadn’t.

Tony had been the one to scoop up the gauntlet from the Titan’s severed arm, still in his suit. Bruce had been next, taking it and tucking it gently under his arm. The two of them took care of the Stones in the weeks that followed, along with Shuri, Wanda and Carol. It was too late by the time he realised that further miniaturising his arc reactor to fit it inside his housing unit destabilised it just enough, just enough that being exposed to gamma radiation for a long period of time turned it against him. He’s avoided this once already, catching the palladium poisoning before it could turn serious, but now…

Now the radiation is spreading. And it’s killing him. He’s dying.

But he can’t take it off, because what if Thanos comes back? What if he isn’t really dead? What if he gets hold of Peter again, wraps huge hands around his throat, slams him into the ground? What if he wants revenge?

Morgan is here now. Tony has a daughter. Peter can at least defend himself, but a four-month-old can’t. She needs Tony, more than anyone ever has before. No, his chestpiece is staying on.

And he’s tried everything he can possibly think of. He’s done everything he did the first time and more, but this – this is something different altogether.

His phone buzzes on his workbench, shaking him from his thoughts.

“Mr Parker has texted you for the fourth time in ten minutes, Boss.”

“Tell him it’s not a good time, Fri.”

“So what you’ve been replying with for the past month?”

“I don’t pay you to be sassy.”

“You don’t pay me at all.” FRIDAY pauses. “If I may, I believe sharing your condition will be beneficial to both you and Mr Parker, not to mention–“

“You may not.” Telling Peter what’s going on will be the opposite of beneficial. And Morgan is four months old. Four months. She deserves at least one parent with a level head, even if that’s soon going to be one parent. Full stop. “Check again.” He pricks his finger on the little needle, waits until the device flashes up a value.

“Blood toxicity: sixty-three percent.”

“So that’s…more…than I was expecting.”

“The spread is accelerating faster than our estimations.”

“No shit,” Tony sighs, and turns towards the fridge in the corner of his lab.

“Boss–“

“Mute, Fri.”

——

“Mr Stark has replied to your message,” Karen says into silence, breaking Peter’s moody contemplation of the New York skyline.

He tries to quell the rising hope; he’s been disappointed too often recently. “Let me guess: he’s busy.”

Karen hesitates. “He says it’s not a good time right now.”

“Of course it’s not.” Peter scoffs, kicks his feet against the edge of the building he’s sitting on – and instantly feels terrible for being such a brat about it. “I mean, he’s got a baby now. Right? He’s just – he probably has a lot on his plate.”

“Probably,” Karen agrees. “Would you like me to respond?”

“No, no. Um, can you text Happy? Just – ask him if everything’s okay with Mr Stark.”

“Done. You have also not replied to Colonel Rhodes’ message from this morning.”

“Just say – no, send him a thumbs-up.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Done. Anything else, Peter?”

“Send Mrs Stark those pictures I took of Morgan last time I was over. And find something good for me to take care of.”

——

“What the hell…?”

Tony opens bleary eyes to see Rhodey staring down at him. Right. He’s on the floor. “Intruder alert,” he slurs, rolling onto all fours.

“I’ve had Pepper asking me where the hell you are, the kid asking me and Happy if you’re okay – are you drunk?”

“Only a little.” In all honesty, Tony wishes he were. It wouldn’t feel as bad as this does.

“Fuck’s sake, Tony. You can’t do this. You have a kid – two, actually. You know the kid keeps asking Happy what he’s done wrong? Why you never see him anymore? He thinks ’cause you have Morgan now, you don’t want him around.”

“Well, that’s…bullshit.”

“And what the hell else is he supposed to think?”

It’s supposed to make this better. It’s supposed to make sure that, when Tony does go, Peter doesn’t feel as attached. All of them, actually. No one mourns an asshole.

“Hey, steady.” Rhodey’s voice softens, suddenly concerned. “You okay? What’s going on with you, man?”

“Nothing’s going on, ‘m fine.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.” Rhodey helps him to his feet and to a chair. “Jeez, man, when was the last time you showered?”

“‘M being bullied.” Tony settles in his chair, catching Rhodey staring at him out of the corner of his eye. “What’re you looking at?”

“I’m looking at you,” Rhodey says gently. “You’re tryna to do this lone gunslinger act, and it’s unnecessary. You got so many people that’d help you if you just asked.”

“I don’t – need help–“

“That’s bullshit, Tones. Look at you. You barely talk to your wife, or your baby daughter, or the kid you love so much you nearly obliterated Thanos for laying a hand on him. You’re a fucking mess.”

“I said I’m fine,” Tony insists. He doesn’t need to drag anyone else into this. No one needs to know. “Contrary to popular belief, I do know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Every day, I believe you less and less.” Rhodey sighs. “Can you at least talk to the kid? He’s only replying to me with emojis now.”

“Oh, yikes, that is bad.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, okay, I’ll get him over soon. Suit could do with an upgrade, anyway.” Tony isn’t leaving Peter with anything but the best.

“Holding you to that,” Rhodey says, and finally, finally starts to leave. “If I wanted something cute and loyal trailing around, I’d have gotten a puppy. So would Happy. He’s your kid, all right?”

Tony watches him go, only dropping his smile when the door slides shut behind him, and sighs. Shit.

——

Rhodey holds his smile until he’s out of the lab and the door slides shut behind him.

Something’s wrong. Very very wrong.

“FRIDAY?”

“Colonel Rhodes.”

“Am I able to override Tony’s orders to you, in any circumstances?”

“My primary protocol is the wellbeing of Boss and his family,” she says.

“So if something Tony was doing was against his own interests, I could tell you to do something different?”

“My primary protocol is the wellbeing of Boss and his family.”

“What does that mean?”

This time, there’s a trace of a smile in FRIDAY’s voice. “I have already contacted Mr Parker.”

——

“Mr Stark?”

No, no, no.

“I got your text. Are you here? FRIDAY let me in – oh my God!”

Shit. Tony rolls out from under his desk, hoping he looks at least half normal.

“Oh, wow, you’re alive. You looked, like, dead–“

“Who let you in here?”

“I just told you FRIDAY did. You texted me to come over, remember?”

“Uh, no. I did not. Fri?”

“I took the liberty, Boss. I also let Mr Parker into the lab.”

Tony growls. “I specifically told you–“

“My overriding protocol is the wellbeing of you and your family.”

“Well, you’re fired,” Tony mutters as he stumbles to his feet, Peter shadowing him all the way over to the couch in the corner.

“Mr Stark, you’re really not okay,” the kid says. He pauses, then starts talking again all in a rush. “And I’ll leave as soon as we’re done, you won’t ever have to see me again if you don’t want to, but can I please help?”

It dawns on Tony then, in his stupid little pea brain, that Peter isn’t mildly concerned, or worried. He’s not even annoyed at being kept at arm’s length, like he should be. He’s terrified. For Tony.

“Please don’t say you’re good because you’re clearly not. Happy and Rhodey are worried about you. May said you haven’t replied to any of her texts. What’s wrong?”

And shit, Peter isn’t his therapist, but he’s brilliantly smart and kind and he’s Tony’s. “I’m sick, Pete.”

“Like…” Peter frowns. “You have a cold, or something?”

Tony laughs, taps his housing unit. “No, kid. This – this is making me sick.”

“So take it off!” Peter says instantly.

If only it were that simple. “Too late now, buddy. And I like to be prepared.”

“Is this why you’ve been hiding down here? Are you trying to fix it?”

Well. How does Tony tell him he was being a dick on purpose and hiding in his lab waiting to die? “I…don’t know if it can be fixed, Pete.”

“Have you tried?”

“Listen. Peter. This is…Infinity Stone stuff. Space magic. Cosmic power. I don’t know if there’s anything left totry.”

“It was the radiation, wasn’t it?” Peter says, cogs in his brain visibly turning. “From the Stones? Doctor Banner is fine, because he’s pretty much made of gamma radiation. Wanda and Captain – Carol got their powers from the Stones. You – why were you still wearing your suit? We won. He’s gone. You didn’t need it anymore.”

“But what if I did? What if I do? At least this way, I’m prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“Whatever comes next.”

“What if there isn’t a next? What if we’re done?”

“There’s always a bigger fish,” Tony intones.

“Don’t use Star Wars against me,” Peter snaps. “FRIDAY, can you send a message to all these people? Princess Shuri, Doctor Banner–“

“Pete, what are you doing?”

“–Wanda, umm – oh, Doctor Strange, Captain Danvers, any of the Guardians if you can–“

“Peter–“

“Shut up, you clearly can’t be trusted to make adult decisions. Tell them what’s happening, how long it’s been going on, and see if they know anything that can help.”

“Done, Mini Boss.”

“Thank you.”

Tony glowers at the ceiling. “Your treachery shall not go unpunished.”

“Noted, Boss.”

Peter folds his arms and sticks his chin out. He looks like a puppy, but a stubborn puppy that could probably bench Tony with one hand if he really tried and – oh, God, his eyes are watering. Why is he crying?

“I’m sorry,” Tony offers.

“What, were you just sitting here waiting to die?”

“Of course not. I was doing plenty of brooding.”

Okay, that’s a scowl.

“Too soon for jokes, maybe. I apologise. One thing it did give me a chance to do is get my affairs in order. Needed to catch up with that, anyway. Added you and Morgan in, of course.”

“Me?” Peter’s arms drop to his sides in shock. “What–? No, that’s not the point here. Stop deflecting. I’m in charge now.”

“Yessir.”

“Give me your housing unit. I want to analyse it.”

Tony hesitates. This is his safety net, his way of keeping his family safe. He hasn’t taken it off in almost a year.

“Hey,” Peter says, as if reading his mind, “you’re with Spider-Man. War Machine’s down the hall. So is Pepper fricking Potts. If anything happens, we got this.”

So Tony smiles, gently detaches his chestpiece, and places it in Peter’s outstretched hand.

——

“Run that again,” Peter demands.

“Simulation has a forty-three percent chance of success.”

Peter groans, sinking back into his chair. Across the lab, Mr Stark swipes a holographic screen away with such force that had it been solid, it would have smashed a dent into the wall.

“So the simulation to heal the damage to the CNS has a ninety-eight percent chance. The simulation to clean up the radiation poisoning in his blood has a ninety-seven-point-five percent chance. But run them together in any way and they fuck each other up.”

“In summary, yes.”

“And you’re sure the kid’s suit doesn’t have the same problem?” It’s at least the tenth time Mr Stark has asked the question.

“The Iron Spider is not powered by a miniature reactor like yours. Furthermore, Peter did not spend nearly as much time exposed to the Stones as you did, and certainly not while wearing his suit.”

“Good, okay. Awesome.” Mr Stark stands up quickly. “Gotta go to the bathroom, Pete.”

“Again?”

“Be right back.”

Peter puts his head in his hands.

It’s worse than they thought. Mr Stark had only noticed the blood poisoning from the radiation, but together, they’d soon spotted another problem. The corrupted nanobots, linked to Mr Stark’s brainwaves, had started attacking his nervous system. And every time Peter thinks he’s found a solution, the simulations show that they don’t work, or one works but the other doesn’t, or – most recently – the cures cancel each other out.

Long story short: Mr Stark is dying. His own tech is killing him. He’s already laughed at the irony of it, but Peter can’t quite see any humour here.

“What’s going wrong here, FRIDAY?” he asks quietly. “Why – what are we doing wrong?”

“In the most recent simulation, the problem occurred when the Extremis, intended for Mr Stark’s central nervous system, met the lithium serum that is supposed to clean his blood. For lack of a better word, they obliterated each other.”

“And given what we know about Extremis and the stability of lithium…”

“It would be explosive, yes.”

“Shit.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, okay, um…” Peter taps his hands on the desk. “Any way to inject directly into the brain stem without, like, paralysing him?”

“Even with the steadiest hands, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Peter groans. “We need something that can carry it through the blood without interacting with the lithium, like – you know, like, targeted painkillers that don’t break down until they reach – oh!”

“Oh?”

“I just – okay!” Peter stands up so fast he almost falls off his chair. “I gotta – Mr Stark!”

——

Tony spits another string of bile into the toilet, ignoring the streaks of red, and sits back against the wall with a grunt. He’s been feeling worse lately, like the poisoning is stepping it up a notch. Never mind whatever the fuck is going on in his nervous system.

And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he now has Peter running himself ragged as well. What kind of man is he, putting this on his kid? They’ve been practically living in the lab for almost a week now, and although they have two solutions, putting them together successfully still seems far off. Too far off for him, maybe.

“Mr Stark?”

“One second!” he calls back, and spits again.

There’s a pause. “Are you throwing up?”

“No–“ The door slides open. “Oh, for God’s sake, FRIDAY.”

“How long?”

Tony tries to climb to his feet, but has to catch himself on the sink, “It’s not a big deal–“

“How long has this been going on? Dr Banner said I need to log all your symptoms.”

“We don’t know what this is even a symptom of, okay? So it’s not like we can decide which thing to inject first based on that. Not that they’re cooperating with each other, anyway.” He frowns when Peter’s face brightens suddenly. “What?”

“I think I found a way.”

“You – what?”

“Both these solutions will work, right? The lithium and the Extremis? But the problem was that the Extremis had to go through your blood to get to your spinal column, and that’s where it would react with the lithium serum.”

“Right.”

Peter nods, and starts talking faster and faster, the words spilling out. “And bloodstream injections aren’t direct enough, but the risk involved with injecting straight into your spine – not worth it. So I thought maybe we could get nanobots to carry it. They can release when they’re told to, not before, and we can avoid them reacting altogether. We inject the nanites, and they can travel into your spinal column, like – like targeted painkillers.”

“But my nanobots did this,” Tony says.

Peter shakes his head. “The nanobots with a corrupted power source did this. If we can make some more–“

“They won’t make it worse–“

“–and won’t affect the serum cleaning up your blood at the same time!” Peter finishes, beaming all over his face.

“You,” Tony says, “are fucking brilliant, you know that? Brilliant.” He clasps Peter’s cheeks and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Genius kid. A prodigy.”

“I’m not really–“

“If you’re not a genius, what does that make me? Billionaire philanthropist? Not nearly as good.” Tony kisses him again, this time on the top of his head. “Okay. Back to the lab. Lead the way, Mr Innovator. You know, you might have just revolutionised medicine.”

“Okay, now you’re exaggerating.”

“I am not,” Tony says cheerfully, “but that’s a conversation for another time. I’ve got all the time in the world to embarrass you now. I’m gonna hire a plane to fly over your graduation – no, the Iron Legion. No doubt about who’s behind that one. Big banner saying ‘Peter Parker is a genius prodigy who revolutionised the use of nanotech’–“

“I think Wakanda might have something to say about that.”

“Did Princess Shuri think of this?”

“They’re probably doing this in some capacity already–“

“But not like this. You’ve been working with Extremis, Pete.”

“I really hope this works,” Peter whispers, and Tony stops.

“Hey,” he says gently, “if it doesn’t, we have time to find something else. You’re onto a great idea either way. Brilliant.”

“How much time?” Peter says, stubbornly avoiding Tony’s gaze. “Because if – you can’t – after everything – Mr Stark–“

“I know,” Tony soothes. How like him to get so caught up in his own jubilation that he forgets how hard this is on everyone around him. Especially Peter. “But I have a good feeling. And every faith in you. Okay?”

“Yep,” Peter says. Liar. “Yeah. Awesome.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

——

“You got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, let me just–“

“Hey, take a deep breath.”

Peter does as he’s told.

“You’re good,” Tony says gently. “You got this.”

“Sorry,” Peter says. His hands are shaking. Why can’t they stop shaking? “I just – needles–“

“I know.”

“And – if it doesn’t work–“

“Ninety-nine-point-five chance of success.”

“What if we’re wrong? What if FRIDAY’s wrong?”

Mr Stark’s hand clasps his, warm and comforting. “If it doesn’t work, the worst thing that will happen is it doesn’t work. And we have time.”

“Okay.”

“You got this, Spider-Man.”

Peter nods again, pressing the needle into Mr Stark’s shoulder and pushing the plunger. “Sorry – sorry.”

“Nice job. Number two?”

“Okay,” Peter says again, relieved when his voice comes out a little stronger. “Yeah. Number two. You ready?”

“Hit me.”

One injection later, and it’s done.

“Okay,” Mr Stark says. “Just gotta wait now.”

“Just wait. Yeah.”

“Couch time, let’s go.” Mr Stark tugs him over to the couch in the corner and sits down. “Talk to me. You’re spiralling.”

“No, I just – what if I hadn’t come? What would’ve happened?”

“Is there any universe in which you or Rhodey or Pepper don’t show up to knock some sense into my thick skull? Barring that, Happy or May?

Peter manages a smile. “Probably not.”

“Well, then.”

“Well, then,” he parrots.

Mr Stark mock-scowls at him and relaxes into the couch. “Hey, you just saved Iron Man’s life. What a thing for your resume.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s why I did it.”

“I know that’s not why you did it.”

“Good,” Peter says. “Because it wasn’t. Because I – you’re an idiot. By the way.”

“I’m told, regularly.”

“‘Cause I know what it’s like growing up without parents,” Peter says, “or losing one. You can have all the family in the world, but there’s always something…gone. And I didn’t want to do that again. I didn’t want that for Morgan.”

Mr Stark watches him for a moment, lips pressed together, something indescribably sad in his eyes. “Well,” he says eventually, “good thing I have your big brain around to help me out.”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“Of course. Idiot billionaire.”

“Superhero,” Peter adds.

“Idiot billionaire superhero. And father.” Mr Stark nods. “Yeah, I’ll take that. Indebted to Spider-Man, best superhero ever.”

“I want that in writing,” Peter says. “Put it on my suit. In my Twitter bio. Yelp review for Spider-Man. I want that quote attributed to Tony Stark for the rest of time.”

“Well, tough, because only you heard me say that.” Mr Stark pauses. “And FRIDAY, who clearly can’t be trusted. Traitor.”

“Anytime, Boss.”

Peter huffs in amusement. They sit in silence for a long moment.

“Hey, Fri,” Mr Stark says. “Blood toxicity check, please.” He pulls the small device from his pocket and presses his thumb into it.

“Blood toxicity, forty-one percent, and, it seems, falling. The neurological damage has not deteriorated further, which suggests the modified Extremis particles are working.”

Peter blinks, hardly daring to believe it. “It…worked?”

“It worked,” Mr Stark repeats. “It worked.”

“Holy shit, yes!” Peter goes to leap off the sofa, but arms grab his shoulders and pull him in to a tight embrace. “Oof! Okay–“

“You are amazing,” Mr Stark says in his ear. “The best. Absolute best.”

“I just helped.” Peter closes his eyes, melts into the hug. It worked it worked it worked.

“Just nothing. This was you, all right? All you.”

“Mostly me.”

“God help us if anyone ever plagiarises your work,” Mr Stark mutters. He kisses Peter’s cheek before pulling back. “Thank you. And don’t say anytime, because we’re never doing this again.”

“No.”

“Up there with the worst few weeks of my life.”

“Absolutely.”

“Do you want pizza for dinner?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 5: Ironic

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

"Woah."

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

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

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

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

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

"Karen?"

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

"Snitch on you for what?"

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

Ned nodded. "Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Mr. Stark's my soulmate."

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

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

"Ned, what?"

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

Peter laughed, shrugging.

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

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

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

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

"Thanks, dude."

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

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

"This is so cool," his friend melted.

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

The phone lit up. "Yes, Peter?"

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

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

Peter perked up. "Yes! Exactly!"

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

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

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

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

"Nothing?"

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

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

"Let's pay him a visit."

  ---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, that's the surprise."

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

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

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

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

"Swinging?"

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

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

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

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

"Hey! This is serious," he pouted.

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

"Mugging. I bought him a hot chocolate."

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

"He ran away."

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

"Yeah..."

"Tony?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ---

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," Peter lied stiffly.

"What? No sugar daddy today?"

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

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

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

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

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

 ---

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

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

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

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

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

"Sir?"

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

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

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

"Three days, Mr. Fowler."

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

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

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

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

"Wha-what? Sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It calmed him slightly.

But not quite enough.

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

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

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

A path was highlighted on his screen.

 ---

  "Remember me?"

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

"Uh, hey..."

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

"All right, chill," Davis placated.

"Come on!"

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

Crap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sub Haven's pretty good."

"It's too much bread."

"I like bread."

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

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

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

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

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

Peter perked up. "Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Staten Island ferry, eleven."

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

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

"Two hours. You deserve that."

"I got ice cream in here."

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

 ---

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

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

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

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

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

"Great. Forward them to Pepper."

"Of course, sir."

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

"Friday, is the spider-suit active?"

"Yes, sir."

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

"That protocol has been disabled, sir."

"What?"

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

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

"Call Peter."

 ---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Incoming call from Tony Stark."

"No, no, no. No, no, don’t answer."

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

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

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

"What class?"

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

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

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

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

"I gotta go. Uh, end call."

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

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

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

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

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

This was going super well.

 ---

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

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

Of an Iron Man armor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think you’ve done enough."

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

 ---

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adrian turned back to Schultz. "You in?"

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

"So we take care of Stark."

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

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

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

  ---

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

It terrified him just as much as it infuriated him.

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

"Is everyone okay?" Peter rasped.

"No thanks to you."

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

"What do you care?"

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

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

"I didn't see you doing anything."

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

"And they got their asses kicked immediately!"

"And you did what exactly?"

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

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

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

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

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

The teenager swallowed. "For how long?"

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

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

"Let’s have it."

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

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

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

"The suit. Peter."

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

  ---

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Forever."

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

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

"I don't want you to go."

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

"And I wanted you to be better."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nighty-night."

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

---

~Click for better quality~

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