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sofiaaaaaaaa03 · 1 year

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Homecoming

Title: Homecoming

Part 8 of Scribe of the Gods Series: Epilogue Pt. 1

Pairing: Steven grant x gn reader (platonic), Marc spector x gn reader (platonic)

Rating: PG

Word Count: 6k

Description: Many months after the attack of Cairo, Marc and Steven have done their best to return to normalcy. While doing so, they await for the return of the Scribe, who had been away during this time to help the Ennead return to its former state. Finally, the scribe is able to return home, with much to discuss.

A/N: .... HI.

It has been... far too long. This was long overdue, and I want to say thank you to those who have been patient. It means so much to me that you all were so willing to wait while I was away, a lot has happened but I genuinely did not want to leave this unfinished. I felt like I had to finish the story. Originally, I wanted to have one single chapter for the epilogue, but I decided that I should split it up as a thank you to those who were patient. I hope you all enjoy, I'm incredibly rusty and i didn't go back to edit this because i just wanted this out so you guys know what i've had collecting dust for the last few months. 100000 percent promise that i plan to and will most likely go back and edit this, but I really couldn't wait to throw this out there. Love you all. RAHHHHHH

London library has felt more empty in the last six months now that it has one less presence. Taking the weekly trips to the library just wasn’t what it used to be for Steven, who often took the trip to rotate his book cycles for his nightly readings. Now that y/n had gone off to all ends of the earth on behalf of the Ennead, there was no one to carry the same conversations the unlikely duo had prior. Steven didn’t blame y/n or feel any ill towards them leaving him and Marc and the life they had in London. In fact all he had was pride for them. They had a big job to accomplish, judging from everything they’d told him with all of the letters they’d sent to his and Marc’s flat. Writings on postcards that served as a reminder that the scribe thought of them, that they were still around in his life.

Despite their loud absence, Steven still kept the habit of visiting the library, but not under the same urgency as before now that he was no longer as afraid of wandering about under the night sky as he was before. His relationship with Marc had finally found balance. The man no longer stayed awake at night , fearful of ending up in obscure places. Marc promised Steven that now that they were no longer serving Khonshu there was no more reason for him to leave the apartment during the night to go on missions. Steven was relieved to find this out, as it meant that he was able to put himself to ease during the night, and now he got to read for his own pleasure rather than a desperate attempt to remain awake.

Not only that, but Steven managed to get a job at the museum- thanks to Marc’s help- as a tour guide. He needed to refresh his knowledge of Egyptology and the library had a large selection of books for him to choose from.

Steven thanked the librarian, a rather stern sort of woman who liked to drone on and on about herbs, picking up his books with a little polite nod, and made his way out towards the exit. He paused a few steps in, looking back at the desk once more with memories of the conversations he and y/n had floating in his head.

He gave a sigh. Thank goodness they were coming back soon.

He couldn’t wait.

One last look and he made his way out of the door and into the London streets.

—----

It’s been too long since y/n stepped foot in the London Library. Six months. Give or take. They’d stopped bothering to keep track after the numerous tasks they’d completed on behalf of the Ennead. For whatever it’s worth, the six months were filled to the brim with ensuring the gods’ work in the mortal realm ran smoothly.

The first few weeks were the worst of it. When the temple had just fallen and all the avatars had died there was nothing short of utter chaos. All of the gods were adamant for y/n’s help, insecure that they no longer had a human vessel to be able to oversee their work; they insisted that they were the first to receive the young thing’s assistance. Y/n did what they could to assist the individual gods, trying to tend to their needs in a matter of urgency rather than agreeing to any given moment.

They had to be firm about their servitude, Osiris told them after a meeting gone poorly- one of the gods had complained over y/n’s unavailability to help their request. But Osiris vouched for y/n and reprimanded the god for expecting y/n to waiting for a job to simply be handed to them, they were a human child, Horus. Where are your children now that we are all scrambling to get back on our feet?- they need to be mindful that the gods can forget themselves in their place of power. The god told the human scribe that as they continued their service and aid the gods, they had to prioritize what work needed to be accomplished. If a god came to them with a mundane task that could wait, y/n was allowed, even encouraged, to tell the god that the job will be done later.

“If they have a problem with it, tell them that they can come discuss it with me.” Osiris would tell them this time and time again. He wanted to make certain that the scribe didn’t overwork themselves or felt the need to always say yes. And y/n took this advice, and had to use it many times, but they were grateful to have a god look out for them the way Osiris did.

While the gods were generous enough to allow y/n an opportunity to work outside of the library, the only issue that came from this was that y/n had no reliable place to stay. On normal accounts, before the collapse of the Ennead and their temple due to the demise of Ammit, they were able to rest between councils within the chambers of the temple. They’d find a little corner far enough where no one could disturb them and catch up on sleep while the avatars drank and caught each other up in their lives outside of ceremonial duties.

Such was not the case anymore. All that resides in the chambers now are the ghosts of the avatars and the destruction of Ammit. Neither suitable company for the scribe to stay as they worked for the gods.

Despite all the time that'd passed, the chambers still suffered from Ammit’s destruction. Not as badly as before as every now and then y/n would lift random debris out of the way as a way to pass time, but even they didn’t have the technical skills to completely reform the chambers to what it once was.

But six months had passed since the events of Cairo. Why was it that the pyramids and the realm of the ennead was yet to be restored? One day, amidst the gods after completing several tasks for them, the scribe inquired about this as they sat on a loose stone. Horus, in all his questionable glory, answered to the scribe. Without proper avatars, the gods had no ability to fix the destruction as they lacked a physical form. They needed humans.

Y/n thought that was bullshit, if they were being honest. They were literal gods. Why did they need an avatar’s body to be able to fix the chambers? Couldn’t a simple snap make it all better?

Whatever. It was not their place to question the gods, despite their obscurities and lack of explanations. Eventually, the chambers’ reconstruction finally started. It took longer than it should have when very few followers came for the call of Horus to aid in reconstruction, but progress was still being made.

So, with construction happening at the temple it meant that y/n was unable to reside in the rubble of the chambers anymore. Instead, they spent their off hours in between hotel rooms and air bnbs. They didn’t mind it though, they finally had a proper bed and had a decent meal that consisted of something other than the Molokhia the gods had given them for the last six months. But really, to y/n, anywhere was better compared to staying in the london library.

There was no point renting an apartment space when the gods started to send them to the ends of the earth for all sorts of missions. Whether it be recruiting a potential candidate for one of the gods, or scavenging artifacts stolen from the temple, the scribe had more on their plate than they’d anticipated and had no time to settle in one place for very long. They didn’t complain. The gods gave them the means to pay for living arrangements and for meals, and the pay was better than the one they received from working for the library.

Six months. Six months was a long time, now that they thought about it.

Thank the gods they were finally able to go home now.

—-----

Now that they thought about it, the first time y/n had been to Steven and Marc’s apartment they weren’t even invited in. Should they knock?

They stood in front of the door, but weren't sure how Steven and Marc would react to them suddenly showing up the day before they were supposed to. The two men were expecting y/n to show up the next day. They’d even insisted on picking them up at the airport and going out for lunch. Well, that was the original plan. Until the gods had decided to let y/n leave earlier out of gratitude and granted them a portal to anywhere they desired, it was only natural that they decided to end up at the front steps of the system’s apartment. A little surprise visit doesn’t hurt anyone, right?

The scribe straightened up, realizing they’d spent too long standing idle at the door and needed to make a move. They raised their fist and rapped on the door several times. And when no one answered they waited a few more moments before knocking once more.

Hm. No one was home. y/n uncomfortable shifted in place, waiting a little longer to make sure that no one was actually home before they began deciding their next move. Should they stay in place and wait for the men to come home? Would that be too awkward? Having the men walk into their apartment floor and find the young adult sitting on the space next to their door? Would it just be better to leave altogether and try to come back later? What if they miss the men again? They could always go, but the question is where? It’s not like they have a place to stay nor anywhere that seemed decent enough to crash, and-

“y/n?”

The voice from across the hall snapped y/n out of their thoughts almost immediately. Steven, in all his glory, stood at the space of the elevator that’d just opened. He stared at the scribe as though he’d unable to perceive that they were actually there.

y/n faltered a moment, unexpected at the sight of the man faster than they were anticipating, and gave Steven a small smile, a little embarrassed that at the end of it they did just loiter in steven’s space like they didn’t want to.

“Hey, Steven.” They greeted him warmly.

The gift-shopist turned tour-guide seemed to stumble in his words as an incoherent string of words fell numb to y/n’s ears. They tried to give him an encouraging smile, walking to steven’s space in the elevator as he remained frozen in place. Too frozen, in fact, as the door of the elevator began to shut with him still inside.

“Uh, the door-” y/n jumped in their place, arm outstretched for the door though the gift shopist stuck their arm through in time to alert the motion detector. The doors stretched open as did Steven’s arms as he took y/n in for a big hug, which they happily reciprocated. It was the kind of hug where they teetered in place very slowly, taking in each other’s presence after months of being apart,

“What’re you doing here so early?” Steven asked between breathy chuckles, slowly pulling y/n away from him, they took a good look at the man and realized he’d sported a light stubble. “Ain’t we’s supposed to pick you up tomorrow?”

The scribe gave them a warm smile. “The Ennead let me go early!”

“Hmm. Are you sure it was ‘cause they couldn’t wait to get rid of you.” y/n didn’t miss the sly smirk steven sported.

“Shut up.” They retorted, lightly pushed Steven’s shoulders. “Just be happy I wanted to come back.”

The gift shopist grabbed at his shoulder and glanced at the doorstop, “Is that all you’ve brought with ye? Let me help you.” He of course was referring to the two duffel bags of y/n’s personal belongings that sat at his doorstep. For six months they’d lived off of everything in the bags and it was painfully obvious from the wear and tear of the bags themselves. Before they could insist that they could carry the items Steven already had his hands on the bags and was looking through his keys for his front door.

The door flew right open in a matter of moments and Steven stepped to the side, grinning at the scribe as he gestured for them to go ahead.

“Right, come on in. Make yourself at home”

—------

No matter how many times they’d reassured Steven that really, they didn’t mind, Steven profusely apologized for the state of his apartment. He droned for a few moments stating that with his new job he’d not had the time to tidy up nor did Marc want to clean after Steven, (“He says I’m in charge of cleaning up my own mess. The nerve of ‘him, talkin’ to me like I’m a child!”) all the while y/n paid little mind and allowed their eyes to wander. Yes, they’d been in the apartment once, but that was many months ago. And it wasn’t like they had the time to take it in back then. Back then, when they were observing Marc and Steven from afar under the orders of a concerned Djehuty. They hummed to themselves, remembering the late nights sitting atop of Marc’s rooftop while listening for any sign of disturbances that could happen to the men.

Y/n sighed deeply, eyes wandering to the window they used to sit by. It wasn’t that long ago. Look how things have changed.

From where they sat nestled in a quaint green armchair, y/n felt like they were back in the London Library. Nestled amongst an alarming number of books, manuscripts, a tombstone of forests and papetry. Every nook and cranny of the apartment was filled with paper. All that was missing from the library was the occasional bun-wearing, shushing librarians and underpaid security guards.

“Did you read all of these?” y/n picked up a loose book resting close to them, lifting the cover to their sight.

Steven responded from his kitchenette, fiddling with three assorted mugs as he kept himself busy making something to drink for the two. “Yeah, more or less.”

“Huh,” y/n lowered the book, smoothing their fingers across the cover as they glanced again at the books around them. “With all of these books there’s not much use going to the library. You have your own here.”

Steven walked over to the scribe and offered out their drink to them. “ I make a habit of buying books I like after reading them borrowed ones. Keep ‘em here like little trophies, yknow.”

“Oh, you’re one of those people.”

“Yes, I’m one of those people, but at least we’re a reason why you have a job at the library.”

They didn’t miss the amusing smirk that Steven shot their way as he plopped himself into his seat at the armchair opposite of theirs, not before settingy/n’s designated cup on the table in front of them. He took a swing from his own and a silence fell between the two. Doing their best to ignore it, y/n took another moment to discern the gift shopist’s apartment.

Steven must’ve noticed them observing the fish tank that stood loudly in the middle of the apartment, as he shifted in his seat and gestured to the papers that decorated the glass pane. All held up by magnets and were numerous by the numbers. y/n had barely noticed them with their admiration of the two fishes that swam inside. “We kept all your letters. Marc thought putting them up close to the water was a bad idea but I’s quite like them there.”

“Oh,” y/n let out a small smile at this, struck with warmth that the system liked the letters enough to put them up. Like drawings on a fridge. “I didn’t think you’d do that.”

“Of course we would. Marc wanted to know what you were up to, and liked to keep note of where you’s been since you had to be secretive about it.” Steven beamed proudly, standing up to approach the fishtank.

“It was a necessary sacrifice,” y/n spoke, leaning over to grab their drink that Steven had prepared for them. “This was the best way I could keep in touch.”

During their time in the ennead, y/n was unable to communicate to marc and steven very often. Communication through modern devices were limited due to risks of tracing and exposing their location from those with malintentions. To help their friends know that they were still alive and well, the young avatar developed a habit of sending postcards to the system from locations they were sent to during a mission. Most of them were written with the generic, “I’m having fun’s” and “Wish you were here’s” to maintain obscurity, but y/n never missed a chance to send them so that Marc and Steven could figure out their last whereabouts from where the postcard originated from, and be relieved by the very fact that they were still alive and well.

“Wells,” Steven hummed to himself, turning to give the avatar a small smile as he returned to his seat. He had collected several postcards from the fishtank and waved them in the air before dropping them onto the table. Y/n watches the postcards splatter across the table, recognizing the images on the postcards from places they went to during their trip. “You have to tell us about your trips.”

And so the scribe told Steven about their life the last six months. Giving an explanation to why they were so absent outside of handwritten letters. As they spoke Steven gave them all of his attention, sitting at the edge of his seat, forearms rested on his knees as he leaned in to every word they spoke. They made sure to speak in great detail as they continued, knowing that the gift shopist had waited a long time to be able to hear their experience firsthand. Marc finally made an appearance to make his own comments. Immediately y/n was ecstatic to hear from the marine and they began to catch up amongst themselves like they did with Steven minutes prior. By the time they were finished their mugs were empty and the sun had set.

“They had me go out and find the avatars,” y/n continued telling their story to Marc, pulling out a map from one of their bags and displaying it onto the coffee table. Marc leaned over, eying the jumbled scribbles written all over the world, marked with locations and field notes from your travels. “The gods, they chose their patrons from different parts of the world, Marc. I-I mean, I had to go to the most obscure places, finding these people, I even ended up in Jersey City, of all places looking out for this one girl-”

Marc closed the front door as he watched y/n run to their bag for the map, carrying takeout from a Vietnamese restaurant down the road. At some point during their conversation he proposed that they went to get some food. He chuckled at y/n’s demeanor now that they finally got to take out the map that they said they wanted to show him, gushing over their trips.

“The Jackals are from Jersey,” Marc sat himself back in the chair, opening up the bag and placing their food onto the table. He lifted up a box, opening it up to make sure that he didn’t get the food switched, “My old man took me to one of their games back when I was a kid.”

He frowned at his food, eyeing the noodles. Steven began looking around the table before reaching his hand back into the bag, shuffling through napkins. “Bollocks, I think they’ve forgot my peppers.”

“They’re here,” y/n took a small container of peppers from their side of the table and handed it over to Steven, eyes still trained on the marked locations of the map. He gave them an appreciative smile, humming as he opened up the container and poured its contents over the steaming bun bo hue he’d ordered.

He took a large bite of his food as he leaned over to take in the map displayed before him, trying to make sense of the scribbles. “Did you find all of them?”

Y/n nodded, finally reaching to grab their food. They couldn’t help but smile in content at the food when they flipped the box open. “I did. Finding them was the easy part. A lot of them were still distraught and panicked over the fact that the gods were real. One guy was so convinced that someone snuck him drugs and he was having a really bad trip. Other people took the whole thing really well, but a majority of them needed as much help as they could get from assimilating to the concept that an Egyptian god chose them as their patron.”

Marc nodded knowingly at them, “Not everybody is okay with the whole ‘gods are real’ schtick.”

The scribe stopped looking over their map to gaze at Marc. They hesitated for a moment. It had been a really long time since they’d seen Marc, they realized now that they really had no idea of how he’s been since the attack on Cairo, whether the attack had left him with any mental troubles or injury now that Khonshu’s power was no longer there to speed up his body’s natural healing process. On the topic, y/n was greatly concerned on how Marc and Steven had been handling themselves now that they were no longer indebted to Khonshu.

Y/n hesitated a moment as they observed Marc, who was keeping himself occupied with his meal now that there was a bit of silence to dwell in.

Finally, they spoke. They were sure that Marc could be able to hear the hesitence in their voice, but it was too late to stop now.

“So, how have you been? Like, with Khonshu and everything.”

Marc said nothing for a moment. Finally, he deeply sighed. He kept his eyes trained on his soup, picking at the noodles with his utensils as he slowly spoke. “I feel much better, I would say”

“Yeah?” Y/n responded. They reached for a napkin laying on the table.

Marc nodded. He shifted himself to lean forward more on his knees. “Like, you know how we were pretty much forced to serve Khonshu? Well, now that that’s over with, I feel like I can do whatever I want now,” He let out a sort of dry chuckle, seemingly pondering over his own words. “Like, I never understood how limited our life actually was… it feels really… open now, do you understand that?”

He continued, not waiting for the scribe’s response, a look of content written on his face. “Honestly, I feel good about it.”

Marc didn’t sound like he had any doubt about his decision to end the system’s relationship with Khonshu. When he spoke, he sounded so sure of himself and where he was currently, trying to return to normalcy after Cairo. Well, as normal as it can get for people like them, y/n reminded themselves. There was no way that either of their lives would ever be the same. They were forever thrusted into the world of the gods, and even though Marc and Steven had chosen to retire that life, y/n knew very well that they were still a pawn waiting to be used in the eyes of the gods. They just hoped that that would never be the case. For Marc and Steven’s sake, they deserved to have their retirement be undisturbed.

“That’s,” y/n began, trying to find the courage to speak after realizing they’d remained silent a little too long. They blinked several times. “That’s great. That’s really great. I’m happy for you two.”

Steven beamed at them, shifting in his seat after putting his meal back on the table. “Ye, it is really. I’s been real nice not havin’ any more trouble at work because of that nasty old crow.”

“He caused you both more harm than good,” The scribe nodded knowingly at Steven’s words.

Steven swallowed another portion of his soup, rubbing off the droplets that trailed from his lips. He cleared his throat, but y/n’s attention was fixated on the napkin he’d dropped on the table. He didn’t wait for the scribe to acknowledge him, but they were able to hear the way he was trying to tread lightly as he spoke.

“Speakin’ of the gods,” He began slowly, waiting a moment to make sure that y/n had nothing to say before he continued, “now that you’re done workin’ for the Ennead, have you put any thought to what you’re going to do with Djehuty?”

It was obvious that this question came to y/n as a surprise when they jolted at the mention of the god. Steven hummed anxiously and raised his hands toward the scribe, profusely apologizing for bringing up the god in question.

“No, no it’s fine,” y/n raised a hand to reassure Steven. “It’s just, it’s the last thing I want to think about right now. Djehuty hasn’t approached me since I first started working for the Ennead, and everyday since then it’s been this waiting game of when he’ll actually show up again. I’m a little on edge, I guess.”

“You still don’t want to see him?” Marc stood up. He stretched his arms into the air briefly before throwing them down again, observing the contents on the table. By this time, all of their food had been finished save for the spring rolls they’d decided to split together. There was one left that sat there for a lot longer than it should have, neither y/n nor marc wanted to be the person to take it out of courtesy.

“No,” y/n glanced up at Marc. He stood over the scribe with the spring roll offered out to them, they gave him a brief monotonous look before accepting the spring roll from him. They inspected it before taking a small bite. They hummed, scanning the table for peanut butter sauce while Marc began clearing the plates away.

“Why is it you don’t want to see Djehuty, again?” The utensils clinked in Marc’s hands as he gathered up what he could, swiping his finger into the peanut butter sauce as y/n grabbed the container. He raised it to his mouth to taste and made his way to the kitchenette to dispose the takeout boxes.

“ ‘cause most likely he’s going to ask me to be his avatar again,” y/n states after swallowing from their bite. The scribe took another bite of the roll, gathering their own mess of napkins and peanut butter sauce and making their way to where Marc was in the kitchen. They spared him a glance as they approached. He had this look on his face that told them that he was choosing his next words carefully.

They opened Steven’s fridge, eying for a spot before placing the peanut butter sauce somewhere for Steven to taste later. Marc reached for his drink from the countertop, “And what would your response be?”

There’s a pause. And Marc is observing y/n with a look on his face that made them feel like they were being read like an open book.

y/n straightened themselves up, slowly closing the fridge door to look at Marc with skepticism in their eyes. They had yet to say anything to the ex-marine, but they didn’t have to when the look that they gave him told him that he was pushing a nerve with them. But

“You’re talking to a guy who’s well-versed in this whole avatar schtick,” He crossed his arms, leaning his weight against the kitchen counter. The man gazed at y/n with a look, “I know coping mechanisms when I see one. Instead of facing Djehuty head-on, you decided to play it safe and hide behind Ennead, but now that you’ve ditched that strategy, you’re still avoiding Djehuty even though you’re technically still his avatar. I just want to know why exactly it is you’re doing that, that’s all.”

y/n turned away from Marc, uncomfortable at the pressing question he’d asked them. They tapped their fingers against their upper thighs in an attempt to dispel the anxiety growing inside of them.

“Its just that,” they began slowly, articulating the feelings they had kept to themselves for so long into words as they spoke. They hadn’t thought that they would share this with anyone this soon, let alone the System. “if I wasn’t his avatar… then what would I even be? I can’t even imagine what I would become. It’s all I've ever known. It’s the reason I’m alive.”

“Well, yeah, its why you were alive the first time.” Marc countered plainly, a resting his face onto his open palm as he had his weight on his knees. He didn’t miss the glare that y/n had shot him. They didn’t like to be reminded of the whole situation they’d had with Djehuty in the Duat. Although Marc did his best to respect it there were times where he wasn’t shy to tell them how it was. It struck a nerve with them every time he did so.

“Yeah, cause who wouldn’t want their entire existence defined by being a puppet for an ancient deity. At least I wasn’t dumb enough to be manipulated into it.”

Marc blinked at y/n’s words. He leaned back slightly, eyes fixated on the scribe as they snapped at him with a hostile air to them. He was unable to see their face as they had turned their head away from him, but he knew deep down that their outburst at him was simply a defense mechanism, a way of protecting themselves from the blunt remarks and sudden pressure to answer questions he’d put them under without warning. Marc didn’t blame them for lashing out in such a way, he probably would have done the same too if he was in their position.

Slowly, Marc sighed from behind y/n. They could hear the slow movements he made behind him as he made his way to refill his water from the sink. They sighed, pushing their hands to their face and wiping it across their eyes. They’d forgotten themselves in that moment, and felt guilty at how they responded to Marc’s questions, he was kind enough to invite them to food and there was too much time that had passed between the two to snap at him, even if it was through a joking manner.

“Look, Marc-”

“No, I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I’m sorry for pushing your buttons.” Marc stood by the scribe, clamping a firm hand onto their shoulder. He had faced them now, carrying a water in his hand as he offered them a small nod, acknowledging his words. He extended the glass in his hands towards them, waiting for them to take the cup from his hands before patting his open palms onto the pockets of his pants. He seemed to be looking for something as his eyes searched the room.

“You know what? It’s been a long day, I’m sure you’re tired after all that traveling.”

“I literally went through a portal,” Y/n couldn’t help but smile at the marine with an incredulous look on their face.

“Well you’re still in Egypt, aren’t you?” Steven mused, raising his eyebrows at the young thing. y/n rolled their eyes at Steven's whit. “It’s a whole two hours difference. What is it… it’s midnight for you, right, let’s get you ready.” y/n groaned at the statement. They weren’t tired at all from their journey. Steven was only using that as an excuse to go to bed early. They knew that he and Marc, despite being in their late 30s, were really just old men who slept for more than they should.

“You can take the bed tonight, y/n. I’ll set up the couch for myself-ah.” Marc raised a hand to them with a firm voice telling them that there was no room for arguing. “You’re taking the bed. Tomorrow we can regroup and have more time to figure out what we’ll do now that you’re here.”

Marc left their side with one more pat before he approached a cabinet on the far side of the room. He opened it and pulled out a few blankets and a pillow before making his way to the couch. y/n observed the marine from their place in the kitchen, not daring to move until they were certain that the man was not at all disturbed by their presence. They kept watch as he made a hmph, releasing the noise while plopping himself across the couch with a blanket over him and a book in his hands.

The scribe, still unwilling to move from their place, observed the marine for a little bit longe, hoping to find reassurance that he held no grudge against them for their earlier attitude. They watched closely, but neither Marc nor Steven showed any visible signs of resentment. Instead, Steven gave them one last look, offering a genuine "goodnight" before settling down with his book.

Filled with a mix of relief and lingering guilt over their behavior, y/n glanced between the man in the couch and the bed they'd offered to him. They looked back at Steven, and after a few moments realized that they were fully staring at the man who had clearly told them goodnight. Slowly, they walked past the couch and took a peek into Steven and Marc's designated sleeping spot in their open apartment. Not to the scribe's surprise, their bed was surrounded by mountains of books that Steven had collected. Despite the overwhelming number of books it all seemed to be a sort of organized mess that only Steven could understand.

The scribe took their bags from the floor beside the couch where Steven read their book and took out some pajamas and bathroom bag. They made sure to stay quiet while they went to change and prepare for bed, scared that if they made too much noise, they would bother Steven. In the bathroom, they pulled out a shirt that read "I survived my trip to NYC," a memento they bought from a subway giftshop during a recon mission on behalf of Horus. Slipping the shirt over their head, y/n caught their reflection in the mirror.

Staring at themselves, they recognized their own face staring back at them, but a nagging sense of detachment washed over the scribe. The conversation Marc tried to have with them minutes before was fresh on their mind. They stared at themselves in the mirror, eyes flickering between one another as they tried to discern what exactly it was, they were feeling.

y/n raised their hands to grab onto the fabric of their shirt, looking down at the words as they rubbed their fingers across the fabric. Suddenly, the shirt's message seemed to mock them. The only reason they were able to get this shirt was because of their work for the Egyptian deities. In this life that they'd lived, they'd accomplished so much. They'd made a name for themselves amongst the gods and had earned their respect, but even that didn't outweigh the dangers and mental exhaustion that came with being an avatar.

But it was all that they'd ever known. This life. The life of servitude for the Egyptian gods. y/n had confidence that if they were to continue their involvement in the affairs of the gods, including Djehuty, the scribe had no doubt that they would thrive.

But was that really what they wanted? y/n slowly let go of their grip on their t-shirt, raising their hands to their face as they observed themselves in the mirror.

This was something that the scribe had contemplated since the first day they began working on behalf of the ennead. They agreed to help the gods reform the Ennead so that when it came down to it, they could go to the gods and ask them to return the favor out of the kindness that they may be able to show to an avatar that dedicated so much time to them.

The scribe had enough of staring at themselves in the mirror, hoping to pick up their toothbrush and toothpaste. They poured a dollop of paste to their brush, raising the toothbrush to their mouth, leaning over the sink to brush their teeth.

On the other hand, they pondered while brushing, there was the very big resentment towards Djehuty that held them back from being so willing to work for him again. Djehuty, who had betrayed their trust long ago by revealing that he'd stolen their soul without disclosure. They found it extremely difficult to fully trust that old bird, fearful of being deceived again.

But... despite their reservations, y/n grappled with the uncertainty of letting go. Being an avatar and serving the gods had become their identity, their purpose. It was all they had ever known, and the thought of severing that connection to become a normal human filled them with uncertainty of what their human life would hold in store for them.

Could they even do it?

If they were being honest, y/n was very jealous of Marc and Steven. The men seemed to have severed their connection with Khonshu so easily. They barely even hesitated. Now the men were building a life of their own, getting jobs, healing.

The young avatar spat out into the sink, cleaning any paste that covered their mouth before finally leaving the bathroom. They entered into the dimly lit apartment, slowly making their way to Marc and Steven's bed, not without sparing a glance to the couch where the system was settled in. Probably still reading their book. They made a mental note to themselves to ask about the book at a later time, when they'd find a good opportunity.

As they settled into the bed, y/n covered themselves with the blankets Marc had laid out for them. It felt peculiar to sleep in the bed of another man. The scribe felt like they were completely violating the system's personal space, despite Marc insisting on the arrangement, assuring them that it was completely fine.

They stared up at the ceiling, unsure if they were quite ready to sleep yet. The scribe hummed, turning to their side after some time, They listened to the water filter of Gus the Second's fish tank hum amidst the stillness of the night and the occasional turning of page as Steven flipped through his book. In the moments before sleep finally took over the young thing, y/n laid in bed and observed Gus the second swimming around in his little home. They could see him clearly, swimming and exploring in his own little world, and they couldn't help but wonder if Gus ever caught glimpses of Steven and themselves about the apartment and dreamt of leaving his home in the fish tank to explore Steven's apartment.

-----------

@astrobuzzsstuff

@blustalker

@thekaibabes@nerds4life246 @samanthacookieone @thekaibabes @kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek @blustalker @atzlena @xiernia @dheet @astrobuzzsstuff @lourecovette @fezlvr @wanderingmaximoffs @jay-alison @dweeb-central @theseawa @mothperson666 @yeetyeetchickenmeat @allynplays @raylan-c @crowpop

@maryvon3002 @flyingmushroomss @livpoststhings @lunalixya @jvdethirlwall @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepressionydepression @childofthemoon7 @daughterofthequeen @forgetful-cupid @lunalixya @voonha @lookitseddie

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govandalsncaa · 1 year

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#7 Vandals host Sun Devils for Homecoming

The University of Idaho Vandals (5-0. 2-0) once again find themselves ranked inside of the top ten in the nation this week as they welcome the Arizona State Sun Devils (3-2. 1-1) to the Kibbie Dome in Moscow for Homecoming.

Idaho is coming off of a blowout win in Provo over winless BYU by a score of 49-7. Arizona State is traveling to Moscow this week after beating the broncos of boise state by a score of 34-32 in last week's action.

The Vandals are scoring an average of 43.6 points a game, the best in the country. After relying on a dominating defense last season, thus far Idaho is leaning on their offensive weapons to win games in dynasty year #5. The Sun Devils score right at an even 28 points per game, thanks to a 240 yard average on the ground. The Devils have been stout against the run so far this season, allowing 159 yards per game, good enough for 18th best in America.

Arizona State is led on offense by redshirt senior quarterback, Dillon Sterling-Cole and a veteran offensive line. Defensively, Arizona State has the most experience and talent in their secondary. Idaho will likely look to expose ASU's front seven in the run game.

Coach Idaho Coach spoke about the homecoming matchup on his weekly radio show.

"This week is all about focus. We can't let all the hoopla surrounding homecoming allow us to become distracted with the task at hand. Arizona State is a dangerous football team, and they know a win against us will really build their bowl resume. We can't let them gain confidence. Starting fast and getting our crowd into it early will be huge.

In practice this week, we have been really working on our blocking, at every position, we want to be better at setting up our guys with the ball. Have a reason for your block and the direction you're setting it.

Defensively, we worked a lot on eye discipline this week. When we play with good eyes on defense, we fly around and are tough to gain yards against. When we just guess, we are a lot more vulnerable to big plays. We need to keep the game in front of us on defense.

It is an exciting week to be in Moscow. We can't wait to go get after it."

ESPN College Football Analyst, Kirk Herbstreit has picked the Vandals to win this one, and this columnist agrees.

Prediction:

Vandals: 47

Sun Devils: 20

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smsjust · 2 years

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Rex parker gigeconomy

#Rex parker gigeconomy series#

Mardy’s Quotes of the Week, Article title: This Week in History, Article author: Mardy Grothe, Date of newsletter: October 13-19, 2019, Newsletter description: A Weekly Celebration of Great Quotes in History and the History Behind the Quotes. (Verified with scans)Įmail Newsletter: Dr. (ProQuest)ġ990, Writers on Writing, Compiled by Jon Winokur, Topic: Money, Quote, Running Press, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. (Verified with scans)ġ974 November 3, New York Times, Section 2: Arts and Leisure, Perels of Wisdom Before an Opening by Stefan Kanfer, Start, Quote, Column 3, New York.

#Rex parker gigeconomy series#

Gale, Series Number 15: Contributions To the Study of Popular Culture, Chapter 4: Themes and Techniques, Quote, Greenwood Press, New York. (Great thanks to Mardy Grothe who mentioned this quotation in his Octoemail newsletter which led QI to formulate this question and perform this exploration.)ġ970 October 18, The Washington Post, Section: Style, Perelman’s Rasping Wit Becomes an Anglo-File by Myra MacPherson, Start Page E1, Quote Page E4, Column 2, Washington, D.C. Image Notes: Illustration of an old-fashioned workspace with typewriter from rawpixel at Pixabay. Perelman deserves credit for this quotation based on the 1970 citation in “The Washington Post”. Mardy’s Quotes of the Week, Article title: This Week in History, Article author: Mardy Grothe, Date of newsletter: October 13-19, 2019, Newsletter description: A Weekly … Continue reading In October 2019 the renowned quotation compiler Mardy Grothe included in his email newsletter a short biographical sketch of Perelman together with a selected group of quotations which included this one. The dubious privilege of a freelance writer is he’s given the freedom to starve anywhere. In 1990 “Writers on Writing” compiled by Jon Winokur included the quotation: 1990, Writers on Writing, Compiled by Jon Winokur, Topic: Money, Quote, Running Press, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. 1974 November 3, New York Times, Section 2: Arts and Leisure, Perels of Wisdom Before an Opening by Stefan Kanfer, Start, Quote, Column 3, New York. The second quotation above appeared in “The New York Times” in November 1974. In an interview after having returned for his sojourn in the United Kingdom, Perelman says that he will never become an expatriate because “A writer needs the constant conflict, the rush of ideas that happens only in his native country.” The dubious privilege of a freelance writer is he’s given the freedom to starve anywhere.” The time away from home persuaded him otherwise. Gale, Series Number 15: Contributions To the Study of Popular Culture, Chapter 4: Themes and Techniques, Quote, Greenwood Press, New York. … Continue readingīefore leaving the United States in 1970, Perelman claimed that “It doesn’t take guts. Gale included the quotation under examination together with a statement made by Perelman after his homecoming: 1987, S.J. after a few years and died in 1979.īelow are additional selected citations in chronological order. Perelman’s stay in England was not lengthy he returned to the U.S. The dubious privilege of a freelance writer is he’s given the freedom to starve anywhere.” Perelman said he had a rush of mail all virtually saying the same thing: “I wish I had the guts to do what you’re doing. Boldface added to excerpts by QI: 1970 October 18, The Washington Post, Section: Style, Perelman’s Rasping Wit Becomes an Anglo-File by Myra MacPherson, Start Page E1, Quote Page E4, Column 2, Washington, D.C. A reporter for “The Washington Post” spoke to him before his departure. He looked forward to a new life in a land that maintained a “taste for eccentricity”. Perelman was planning to move from the U.S. Would you please help me to find a citation? Perelman who wrote numerous pieces for “The New Yorker” magazine once linked his freedom from fixed employment with the unfortunate possibility of starvation. Self-employed temporary workers perform tasks for agreed-upon payments.įreelancing has been common in some fields for many decades. The emerging system has been called the gig economy or the freelance economy. labor market has been occurring in recent years. Dear Quote Investigator: A major shift in the U.S.

#Rex parker gigeconomy

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kumkaniudaku · 4 years

Text

Simple Syrup

You asked for Daveed smut and I tried to deliver. At least this one time. Enjoy!

Warning: Sexual Content. 18+.

Daveed Diggs x Black!OC (Olivia Jenkins)(Yes, the MC/ OC is black. Representation is important.)

"Yo, open up!" Heavy fists beat against the door of Olivia's downtown apartment, making her roll her eyes. "I know you can hear me, girl! It's your favorite pop-up roommate!"

"You've been evicted, Diggs!"

"I paid you rent, though!"

Turning the stove on low, Olivia shook her head as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel. Daveed always found a way to surprise her with his presence. He never texted before showing up at her door but frequently sported a backpack or suitcase full of clothes or Rafael for an extended stay. He and all his baggage were welcome anytime, with or without notice.

Stepping to the door, Olivia bit back a smile before responding. "I didn't receive any payments this month."

"I got it in my bag."

"Bag or bags?"

"Open the door to find out."

Daveed took a step back as the locks began to turn, waiting for Olivia's face to greet him with faux anger the way she did the last time he showed up out of nowhere and stayed for three weeks. Despite stopping by six months ago, it felt like a lifetime since he'd been in her company. Bi-weekly phone conversations weren't enough. He needed to be near Olivia while she watched whatever Housewives franchise had her attention for the month.

When the door opened to reveal the long hallway leading to her living area, Olivia stood with a hand on her hips and a grin on her face.

"Where is my money," she asked, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Just as she expected, he stood in the hallway with a suitcase that she knew cost a fortune to check at the airport and his worn Jansport full of junk and work.

Daveed laughed and bent to rifle through his backpack for a crumpled white envelope that he handed over with exaggerated purpose. "Here you go, Miss Jenkins. Sorry to be late on rent for, what, 8 months? I hope this is enough."

"Boy, you didn't really need to pay me. You're not on the lease."

"Good," he answered as he pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. "Because those are just Chick Fil A coupons."

Olivia stood with her mouth open as Daveed brushed her to roll his luggage to the first bedroom on the right.

He listened to her insult his "stupid face" and instruct him to hurry up while he scanned the room he had called home more times than he could count. All of Daveed's belongings were in the same place, with almost unnoticeable shifts to show that Olivia had cleaned once or twice. His favorite throw blanket was folded at the edge of the bed with his initials elegantly embroidered in the corner. The air smelled of the vanilla candle she kept on the nightstand next to a framed photo of the crew enjoying a roller coaster at Six Flags. His favorite trinket, Olivia's homecoming crown from undergrad, sat next to a single gold medal from Daveed's days competing in track and field. To him, it symbolized their bond from the beginning. To her, it was probably just a space to hide old items.

"Daveed, get in here! I need you to cut!"

All at once, Daveed's sense of self returned to center him in reality. He quickly kicked off his shoes once he remembered Olivia's rules and started off toward the kitchen to answer the call for his help.

Even with the windows open, he could smell savory and sweet aromas combining for a smell that reminded him of the holidays. However, the calendar placed them square in the middle of an excruciatingly hot summer. He could see the open bottle of BBQ sauce on the center island next to a mixing bowl full of things he couldn't recognize but knew they would taste great. Bushels of greens sat in a pot on the stove, boiling amid smoked meat and seasonings to complement the food cooking in the oven. Daveed felt excitement take hold of his face and forced the apples of his cheeks up toward his eyes. Olivia looked up from her task at the cutting board and smirked.

"I thought you were vegan now."

"My business is my business, Liv. We talked about this last week."

"We also talked about you heading directly to Toronto after your job in Atlanta and, yet, here you are." She studied Daveed's face for answers but found nothing but a growing smile. "Come over here and cut up these strawberries while I sauce the ribs."

Daveed followed directions without complaint, lazily strolling to the island and nudging Olivia away. He'd been her help in the kitchen before to open pesky jars or stir while she tended to the more time-intensive parts of the meal. On more than one occasion, he had fucked up, and each time she invited him back into her safe space with open arms.

"How's Rafa and the family," Olivia asked with her back turned while she bent to take a peek into the oven.

Daveed kept his eyes on her backside for a moment too long before answering. "Rafa's good. Amy sends her love and says that you are more than welcome for Friendsgiving this year. She volunteered you for pies."

"You volunteered me for pies, Daveed," Olivia corrected, knowing how much her friend loved her desserts. "What about my babies? Is Santiago the best big brother to Emelia?"

"He's...trying. But he did send a gift for the lady with the bald head. His words, not mine."

Olivia ran a hand across her tapered fade and chuckled. "I feel like he heard Rafael say that."

"No, Rafa calls you Thick Mr. Clean."

"Yeah, because that's what you said when you were drunk on New Years," Olivia accused as she gestured toward the cabinet housing her wine glasses. Daveed nodded before answering.

"I said it with love!"

"Mhmm, I'm sure."

Together they watched half a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc be transferred into the separate glasses, waiting for the moment they could take a sip. The last time they shared a drink, they ran through two 12- packs of beer with Rafael and ended up dancing with street performers in Times Square. She hadn't been able to stomach the smell of a Budweiser since then and fully transitioned to fruity notes and sparkling Rosé with Daveed occasionally coming along for the ride.

Taking another long sip from his glass, Daveed leaned against the island counter to watch Olivia stir a mixture for skillet cornbread.

"What's got you so stressed?"

Olivia shrugged but didn't look away from the bowl. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"The last time you cooked like this, you were writing your dissertation. And the time before that, it was your mom."

The room fell quiet outside of the spoon, ricocheting off the sides of the mixing bowl. After several seconds, Olivia took a deep breath and looked up at Daveed.

"Daddy's getting remarried. Omari and I are his best-kids," she laughed. "I'm not stressed. Just a bit...sad, I guess?"

Daveed understood the issue without needing more context. Five years ago, he was the one sitting beside Olivia on the floor of her brother's home office after the news came that their mother had in the hospital. He was there for the saddest funeral he'd ever experienced and the months of reconciliation that the family struggled through on the way to some sense of normalcy. The idea that her father had found love again was heartwarming, but Daveed knew the occasion was bringing up old feelings.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She shrugged again and moved the skillet to the oven. "There's nothing to talk about. I said I'm fine. I wish she was here, ya know, but I know she isn't upset. She always told us to move on once she's gone. She sure as hell would."

Daveed chuckled at the idea of Mrs. Jenkin's moving on in the afterlife. "She was funny like that. I remember when she met me for the first time and kept calling me Devante."

"Yes," Olvia exclaimed, a spark of joy returning to her eyes. "She'd call me and be like, that boy Devante is smart! Ask him if he can put me in a movie one day!"

Olivia's voice warped to imitate her mother as best as possible before she burst into laughter with Daveed.

"One of the last things she said to me was that I need to make sure you keep having fun. She didn't want you to stop enjoying life on account of her."

"Yeah…" Daveed watched Olivia down the wine in her glass with her eyes closed, waiting for her to continue her thought. "Well, you're doing a good job. We could work on your definition of fun, but solid effort so far."

"How can I do better? I'm open to criticism."

Daveed kept his eyes on Olivia while he reached across her body to grab the wine bottle for the final drink. Her breath hitched while alcohol buzzed through her system, creating the perfect storm for sudden arousal. She fought her thoughts by shaking her head to recover.

"You can start by grabbing those strawberries and bringing them over to the stove."

"Don't skip the question." Daveed's smirk as he followed her to the other side of the counter made Oliva hot with embarrassment, but she kept a calm exterior. "Are you still having fun with me?"

"I always have fun with you, D, you know that. Who else is gonna play Bop It with me at 2 AM on a Wednesday? The question is, are you still having fun with me, superstar?"

"Don't start that. I come and stay at your house because I miss you, not because I can't find somewhere else to sleep. You're my person."

"For now," Olivia added as a rebuttal, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at hearing the way Daveed felt. "What happens when you get married? You're gonna have to go be a family man like Rafa. Then we'll only see each other on Friendsgiving and Christmas."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Hm." Olivia's short but skeptical laugh effectively ended the conversation. Still, Daveed had already made up his mind to return to the discussion later in the week. "So, how long are you here this time?"

Daveed used one of his large palms to push a few curls off his forehead in search of relief from the heat in the kitchen. "I was thinking a couple weeks. Three or four."

"That's longer than normal! I get to have my favorite guy here long enough to help me put wallpaper up in the guest bathroom?"

"Am I only muscle to you?"

"Of course, not," she answered with a sweet smile, making Daveed mirror her expression. "You're also a taste tester. Open up."

Before Daveed could object, Olivia swiped barbecue sauce across his bottom lip for his opinion. The tip of his tongue appeared to taste the tangy brown sauce, finding an explosion of flavor that reminded him how much he missed Olivia's cooking.

"What's the verdict," Olivia asked over her shoulder as she turned off the eye under her simple syrup mixture.

"Tangy and sweet. I'm not sure why you don't bottle this up for sale. My dad would love some."

"Meh, I like having it as a treat for the people I love. All my hobbies aren't for profit, my friend."

Daveed dramatically threw a hand across his chest and gasped. "Did Mean Ole Liv just imply that she loves me? I-I'm gobsmacked. Utterly shocked and eternally grateful."

"Diggs, you're pushing it," she laughed. "Come taste this syrup before I start on the lemonade."

From experience, Daveed knew what to expect. But he humored Olivia anyway if only to see pride light up her face when he told her how amazing the sweet mixture tasted. After washing his hands in the sink, he skimmed his middle and pointer fingers across the top of the syrup to pick up enough to coat his fingertips.

He eyed the liquid for a moment, watching it slowly trickle down the side of his long fingers while he thought of his next move. Olivia stood at the refrigerator with her back turned, humming a song from The Wiz. At the same time, she gathered ingredients for the beverage.

"Hey...hey, Liv." Daveed had already started to close the short gap between them and stood waiting for Olivia to respond to his call.

"Wha -" A sudden swipe of syrup across her bottom lip confused Olivia. "D, what is your problem?"

Stepping forward, Daveed took her chin in his to bring their lips inches apart. "Is it still cool if I taste?"

Olivia stared at Daveed without blinking, fighting her brain for a competent answer to his question. Instead, she nodded in a daze with her jaw slack. His fingers took gentle meandering paths across the peaks and valleys of her face before using his thumb to part her lips.

Daveed's first kiss was a tentative peck to test the waters. When he received no resistance, he pulled Olivia closer for full access to her mouth.

Neither of them expected to fall into the kiss so easily. Olivia didn't expect to melt into Daveed's body while he dictated the pace and intensity. Daveed didn't expect to feel an overwhelming desire to consume the one person that always felt so close but far away. He wanted to feel and taste every part of Olivia while he had the green light. She reveled in Daveed's attention, even if it was only for a moment.

Taking a step backward, Daveed used his knowledge of the kitchen to guide them back toward the stove. Their lips remained connected to taste the last bits of each other. Olivia was the first to break the lip lock and move her head upward, directing Daveed to choose a spot on her neck to explore.

The cold, sticky simple syrup came next, the thick glob landing on the center of her chest and sliding to her cleavage.

"I've thought about this a lot," Daveed spoke barely above a whisper as he used a finger to spread simple syrup across Olivia's chest. "Kinda wild to say, but I have."

"How long?"

"A year. Maybe two."

Olivia released a shaky gasp once Daveed's tongue began licking from the space between her breast to the base of her neck to catch the simple syrup. As quickly as it disappeared, he replaced the sugar mixture with another round at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He groaned as the tart strawberry flavor mixed with the sweetness of the sugar and Olivia's skin. She grasped the back of his head for stability, allowing her eyes to flutter closed for a few seconds.

"How does it turn out? In your thoughts, I mean?"

Daveed paused to kiss Olivia's lips again and run his hands down her back. "Doesn't matter. We're here now, and I can't think of anything outside of how good you taste drenched in strawberry sauce."

"Simple syrup," Olivia answered, smiling as she sneakily dipped her finger into the pot behind Daveed. "It's simple syrup, and I haven't gotten a taste yet. Open your mouth."

They kept their eyes on each other while Daveed opened his mouth, waiting for whatever came next. Olivia took her time to coat his tongue in syrup, imagining how it would feel to experience the concoction from his mouth.

There started the mad scramble to get closer, taste more and touch longer. Separate but equal desires to completely consume the other person had the pair maneuvering around the kitchen. They remained attached at the lips until they reached the solid wood breakfast table near the large casement window. Daveed was the first to remove clothing, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere behind him. A split-second decision had him rushing back to the stove to retrieve the syrup pot. He carefully placed it on the table while Olivia slid the straps of her summer dress down her arms to let the fabric pool at her waist. Daveed watched with a flirtatious smile, marveling at the expanse of her warm brown skin. Olivia returned the sentiment, letting her eyes rake over his broad chest and toned midsection.

One after the other, Daveed and Olivia added bits of syrup to different body parts to lick and suck the skin clean. A handful mistakenly dripped onto Olivia's thigh, and they watched the sticky liquid carry small chunks of strawberries to the inner portion of her leg.

Daveed regarded the sight with wonder before carefully dropping to one knee for a better look. He maintained eye contact with Olivia as he kissed his way to the sweetest spot, lingering in places that earned the most desirable response. The scratch of facial hair combined with his lips and tongue's soft, silkiness made Olivia keen for more. She could feel the blood rushing to pool at her inner thigh for a bruise that would leave evidence of a dream achieved. She smiled at the thought of seeing it when she was getting dressed and how her stomach might feel with butterflies from the memories.

Daveed mumbled praise after praise into the supple skin of Olivia's thigh before starting a journey back to her lips. When he returned, he slowly pushed the waistband of his sweats down his hips and legs.

"Oh," Olivia spoke, eyes wide while she fought the natural desire to let her gaze travel. "I...wow, okay. I feel like I'm violating you."

"I'm kind of asking you to," Daveed laughed as he stepped closer.

"This is so fucking weird. Are we really about to do this?"

"Only if you want. I mean, I want to, but we can stop whenever you say the word."

He was closer now, dropping kisses on her shoulders while he pressed their chests together to reduce the space between him.

Olivia's legs naturally hooked themselves around his waist at the same time that her arms circled his neck.

She leaned forward to speak against Daveed's lips with her eyes hooded in lust, "I want this."

Passion and the hint of strawberry coating their lips intensified the moment between Olivia and Daveed. He held her writhing hips steady while he stood on his toes to push forward. Simultaneous moans of pleasure rang out in the kitchen, surely gaining the attention of nearby neighbors.

Their hips bucked an even pace, repeatedly meeting to build tension in their bellies. Daveed felt the strain of each stroke in his thighs and calves but found the desire to fuck his friend on her kitchen table to override any other immediate discomfort.

"Are you a talker," Daveed asked randomly, making Olivia's eyes snap up from the action below her waist to focus her attention on him.

"What?"

"A talker. Do you like to talk during sex?" His question came between labored breaths and grunts holding a mixture of exertion and indescribable pleasure.

"Daveed, are you trying to have a conversation with me right now?"

"I mean, I like to - fuck - I...I like to talk sometimes. Is that cool?"

A high-pitched moan ripped through Olivia's throat before she could gather her senses to respond. "It's your c-call, Diggs. Just don't stop."

He followed directions without skipping a beat, digging into his strength to pick up speed when he sensed they could move to the next level. He peppered in filthy statements that stimulate Olivia's mind while driving into her with expert precision.

They held on to each other as they reached separate peaks with no regard for the climbing noise level.

"I wanna do this forever," Daveed whispered into Olivia's ear before nipping at the lobe.

"Not look into my eyes lovingly and write songs about me?"

Daveed chuckled and snapped his hips forward, earning a near-silent moan. "Can I use you calling me daddy on the hook?"

"You got a lot of work to do before that happens."

"I'll put in overtime."

Splaying his hand across Olivia's torso, Daveed pushed her to lay flat on the table before leaning to hover over her body. He used his waning energy to give her all the power in his hips, searching for a climax. When she thought she couldn't come anymore, Olivia felt her body jolt off the table once the pad of Daveed's thumb began rubbing tight circles on her clit. Daveed smiled at the reaction but felt it disappear as soon as his hips falter mid-stroke. He rushed to pull out of Olivia, fearing that if he stayed inside for a moment longer, he would expedite his journey to fatherhood.

Olivia helped his cause by curling her fingers around his length and joining his pumping effort while she propped her body up on her elbow. He came with a choppy moan and heavy breathing on her belly, his chest rising and falling rapidly in time with the stove's timer beeping for attention.

Both Olivia and Daveed dissolved into laughter.

"Please, don't let this dry on me. It's sexy now but a pain to get off later."

Daveed's laughter climbed to hysterics at Olivia's mention of the mess on her stomach before reaching across the table to grab napkins out of the centerpiece component.

"Sorry," he apologized sheepishly as he helped wipe her clean. "Condoms next time?"

"Or my mouth."

Daveed stood shocked for a split second while Olivia worked to readjust her clothing and hurry to the stove. He followed her lead and pulled up his sweats before clearing the syrup pot and grabbing wipes to disinfect the surface.

The room was silent while they arranged hot dishes on the counter and privately grappled with having sex for the first time. A sense of "now what" hung in the air, which made Daveed more and more uncomfortable.

After plates were fixed, they chose opposite ends of the table to enjoy the meal.

"You know," Olivia started, laughing as she swallowed the last piece of cornbread on her plate. "That simple syrup recipe is my mom's. This whole meal was her favorite thing to cook, and I made it because I was really fuckin' sad and needed her nearby. Then you showed up."

Daveed's eyes snapped up from his plate. He wasn't sure what to say and remained silent in hopes that Olivia would elaborate.

"A couple weeks before she died, she told me that she would still be directing my love life from Heaven. She grabbed my hand and said, 'Dammit, Bean, I'm gone get you a man even if I gotta do it during bingo with the good Lord.'"

"You think she's up there winning the grand prize?"

Olivia shook her head. "I think she forfeited it to send you to me."

Her answer made Daveed still to watch Olivia's eyes meet his set from across the table. She reached a hand across the table with her palms facing upward, beckoning Daveed to place his palm in the center of hers.

"We have three weeks to figure this shit out," Daveed said, smiling before bringing Olivia's palm to rest on his cheek.

She looked at him for a minute to take in the way his eyes reflected the sun before using her head to gesture toward the pot still resting on the counter.

"And all night to finish off mama's recipe."

#daveed diggs #daveed x reader #daveed diggs x reader

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sagebaileyspeaks · 3 years

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So Spiderman No Way Home...Yeah...(Not a Review, but a Mini-Essay that was supposed to come out before the movie)

***As a disclaimer, I wrote this on November 21st, but had a lot of things that kept me from publishing it before the review, but I’m glad I was proven right at that we finally reached the end of the “origin” of the MCU’s Spiderman***

Alright, look—I have a full-time, salaried job now so I don’t necessarily have the same amount of bandwidth to review books and movies on the weekly like I used to however I will ALWAYS make time for Spiderman and both trailers have me incredibly excited for this installment in the franchise.

That said, I feel like there’s something about this new iteration of Spiderman that I really need to get off my chest because if this is really “the Endgame of Spiderman movies,” then there is a significant problem that the MCU has yet to address and that is: this Spiderman has yet to stand on his own.

And ***spoilers*** if the rumors are true and Tobey and Andrew will be making appearances then this Spiderman will continue to be a baby Bambi Spiderboy instead of your Friendly Neighboorhood Spider-MAN.

Now full disclosure, I’ve come to like Tom Holland’s Spiderman quite a bit. Of the four, he’s third in line behind Miles and Tobey and even though it comes right before Andrew he is just...leagues ahead in my opinion but I digress. I like this version of Spiderman, I think he’s sweet, I think he is the most realistic portrayal we’ve had of a young Peter Parker however the issue with this is that they have essentially aged him down to the point where he doesn’t truly seem capable of handling any issue of his own accord.

In his debut, Civil War, he’s recruited by Iron Man to fight against Cap but if you look at the bigger picture: Sam and Bucky stop fighting him aggressively after they realize he’s a child. Tony tells him in Homecoming that Steve could’ve laid him out but chose not to (although, given Spiderman’s strength we don’t know this to be true. This kid has much more physical power than people seem to realize.) And in said movie, his “origin” movie, he spends most of his time chasing the shadow of Tony Stark. He wants to impress Tony. He wants to prove himself to Tony. And while despite this motivation he still wants to do the right thing (which is why he continues to pursue Vulture) in the end, he relies on Iron Man and Stark tech entirely too much.

In his second movie, Far From Home, he wants a break from his responsibilities as Spiderman which is understandable considering he was snapped and fought against Thanos and his army for the sake of half the universe...except, up until this point the only conflict he’s had separate from the Avengers was the Vulture and as previously stated that had more to do with Tony Stark than he ever will. Now, this movie is a lot of fun and I love the ending in which Peter learns to trust in himself.

However, if the rumors are true and this is his last outing as Spiderman in his trilogy then it feels very incomplete. I won’t know how this story wraps up until I see No Way Home but instead of feeling like a hero’s journey, Tom’s series of movies have felt like an extended introduction to him becoming Spiderman. He feels like a hero who wants to be Spiderman, but hasn’t actually come up to task yet.

Take for instance Spider-Man (or Spiderman 1) we see Peter as a bullied nerd, we see him experiment with his powers and then we see his defining moment that takes him from “kid who got bit by a spider,” to “superhero who takes on the responsibility of saving New York.” This moment is, choosing to let a robber go and then Uncle Ben dying as a result. He goes to kill the guy, realizes that he is responsible and then takes on his role of the city’s protector.

#spiderman no way home #spiderman #mcu

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fervours · 3 years

Photo

TASK 001: REYNA’S BEDROOM.

WHAT’S IN YOUR MUSE’S JUNK DRAWER?

two neon pink lighters, neither of which work; an old gold plated cross necklace; jamie’s stolen hoodie, two sizes too big; dozens of bobby pins; tubes of lipsticks, worn away to the rim.

IF THERE WAS A FIRE, WHAT ARE THE TOP TWO THINGS YOUR MUSE WOULD RESCUE FROM THEIR ROOM?

a stuffed elephant from childhood that reyna DOES NOT, absolutely NOT, cuddle up with every night and her polaroid camera (that shit be pricy).

WHAT’S HANGING ON THEIR WALLS?

a mixture of photographs (homecoming photos she and lex took way back in the day, mirror selfies of her and max, photobooth makeout sessions of her and jamie, fancy dress parties with marty and talia), a giant mirror (with various post-it notes stuck to it, all filled with messages like: love ya bitch x) and a poster from when the spice girls came to chicago.

HOW OFTEN DO THEY CLEAN IT?

reyna’s bedroom is clean, but messy. she’ll pick up stuff from the floor, vaccum under it, and then place it right back down. she cleans it weekly, but doesn’t bother tidying it up unless pre’s are being held at hers. she literally doesn’t care about tidying up for one night stand’s either.

DO THEY KEEP ANYTHING IN THEIR ROOM THAT THEY WOULDN’T WANT ANYONE ELSE TO SEE?

you mean other than the pregnancy test buried in between her thongs? she probably wouldn’t be the biggest fan of the cops finding her (as of recently untouched) weed stash (hidden in her sneakers at the bottom of her closet), but if anyone happens to stumble upon her novelty condom collection, that’s on them.

WHAT’S ON THEIR BEDSIDE TABLE?

half drunk glass of water, in a champagne flute; roughly piled stack of CDs; her favourite pair of earrings; pink fuzzy lampshade; mobile phone (dead in a diamonte case) and one half of a ‘best friend’ necklace (be, fri).

#all the thanks in the world to lu for making this thanks boo #volumetask #is that the tag #no fancy description at the beginning sorry fam

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storyofmychoices · 4 years

Text

Original Murder Mystery Story

So I’ve been very uninspired as of late and I keep thinking about this novel I started almost six years ago now. I think I might take some time to work on it. I don’t know. But I thought I’d post the first chapter here incase anyone is interested in reading it. I’m not tagging anyone so this post will probably get lost in tumblr abyss and I’m okay with that. But if it doesn’t and you enjoy it, please, please let me know (like, comment, message me, reblog?!) I’ve never shared original work before so I’m quite nervous. (also, I guess, if it’s not good, please tell me (nicely of course) constructive criticism is good too.)

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to participate in an all-new reality television series. We have found that given your particular professional and personal experiences, you are an ideal fit for the cast. Official auditions will not be held for the premiere season, as the creators wish to film the entirety of the first round without the ever-watching eye of the public. In this day and age, we cannot be too careful.

Should you choose to accept our humble invitation, simply call the number below and enter your unique pin number when requested. If you choose to decline the offer, we ask that you return this letter in the enclosed self-addressed stamped envelope.

We look forward to hearing from you soon.

Our most sincere congratulations,

Truest Noon Productions

Phone: 1-800-687-3378

Pin: 58834633668

Mr. Danforth chuckled. He was far too old and out of shape to have been chosen. There must have been a mistake. No, certainly he would not be qualified for any of those reality television shows. “It’s the young folks they want,” he thought to himself. “They all want their fifteen minutes of fame. No, no. I am far too old to be getting involved in anything like that. Me on the television?” He couldn’t fathom it.

Tossing the letter onto the pile of junk mail on his desk, he put his feet up in his recliner and rested from his long day at the security office.

☆ ☆ ☆

Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Diiiiing, Dooooong. Knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock.

Ms. Drake pressed her nose against her dining room window, watching the mysterious deliveryman across the street. Her hair tightly wound in curlers, it was a wonder she could move at all without her scalp pulling off. She leaned back and took a long drag of her almost finished cigarette. She crushed the butt on a dish to her left without looking, turning her focus again to Mrs. Mulberry’s house across the street. The deliveryman continued to press the doorbell fervently.

“I wonder what that could be about,” Ms. Drake said to herself. “Who delivers mail at ten to six in the morning?”

“What was taking Mrs. Mulberry so long to answer the door?” Ms. Drake thought, changing window positions. Certainly, she would be readying for work by this time? How could she leave that poor man standing there like an idiot? Not on her watch.

Ms. Drake tightened her silk floral housecoat around herself and moved toward the door. Her slippers were ready for her morning walk to the mailbox for the paper. She typically waited until Mr. Barnes was leaving for work so they could exchange their daily salutations, but today she would deviate from her routine. After all, she couldn’t leave that poor, helpless deliveryman standing in the damp morning air. That would not be neighborly at all.

Waddling out of her house, Ms. Drake raised a hand to attract the man’s attention. “Yoo hoo. Oh, yoo hoooo.”

He turned toward the sound of Ms. Drake’s howling call. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I see you’re looking for Mrs. Mulberry. Perhaps she’s left for work already,” Ms. Drake suggested, knowing fully well that Mrs. Mulberry did not leave for work until 7:00 a.m.

“Yes, ma’am. I have been instructed to hand-deliver this letter to her,” the man held out a large blue envelope with silver calligraphy; Ms. Drake’s gaze was immediately taken by it. “I don’t suppose you know when she might return? It is of the utmost importance that she gets this letter quickly.”

“Oh, my dear,” Ms. Drake said, fluttering her eyes at the man easily thirty years her junior. “I know Mrs. Mulberry quite well; we have been neighbors for the better part of two decades. I could deliver the letter to her.”

“That’s very kind ma’am, but my directions are to place the letter in Mrs. Mulberry’s hands directly. I’m not even to leave it at her door for her. She must receive it straight away.”

“Well then, it’s a pity that you’ll not succeed in your task. I only wanted to help you on your way!” Ms. Drake turned up her pug nose at him, an attribute certainly the result of pressing it against her window far too many times over the years. “I bid you a good day then.”

Ms. Drake sulked back to her house, failing to retrieve her newspaper. What was in that envelope and why was it so important? She had to know.

“Wait,” the man called.

Ms. Drake’s curlers almost burst off her head; she could hardly contain herself. “Yes, my dear?” She slowly turned around giving the man a determined look.

“It’s urgently important Mrs. Mulberry receives this letter today; can you assure me you will get it to her?” The man asked skeptically.

“Of course, yes. Mrs. Mullberry’s letter is in safe hands with me.” She held out her thick hands in his direction, her fingers wagging invitingly.

Apprehensively, he turned the envelope over to her. “You’re a lifesaver. I really wouldn’t have had time to return this evening. I must be getting on with my other deliveries.”

“Of course, of course. What are neighbors for if not to help out those around them?”

“That’s very kind of you ma’am. Well, I better be off. Thank you, Mrs....”

“Ms. Drake,” she replied. “Ms. Cordelia Drake.”

“Well then, thank you, Ms. Drake. It has been a pleasure.” He smiled and was off.

Ms. Drake anxiously looked back at Mrs. Mulberry’s house. “Good,” she thought. “She doesn’t know yet.” Ms. Drake waddled her way back into the house, tucking the envelope under her robe.

☆ ☆ ☆

Ms. Banks swiftly pressed the numbers on her phone with her long, manicured nails. “Shoot, a voice recording.” She said quietly to herself in her soft southern accent. Ms. Isabella Banks had no trouble seeing why she would be chosen for a new television series. The blonde bombshell had won Homecoming and Prom Queen at her high school, as well as placed as runner up for Ms. Georgia. Of course, they’d want her.

Isabella practiced her award-winning smile. Yes, it would be good to be in the spotlight again. She must get through to the number. She dialed more slowly this time, speaking each number aloud as she tapped the keypad. The recording again–didn’t anyone want to talk with her directly, she wondered.

☆ ☆ ☆

Liam Flynn, a rock musician, found himself in possession of a letter welcoming him to join a reality TV pilot. “To accept is defeat,” he grumbled, tossing the letter in his overflowing trashcan. “Only washed-up artists do reality TV. I’m not that desperate.”

His greasy dark bangs fell in front of his eyes as he opened his fridge. He carelessly pushed them aside and grabbed a beer. It was the closest thing to food that he had in his apartment. “Well, maybe, I’ll just hear them out. I could plan a comeback and use this as a launching point. Yes, that’s it!” Liam retrieved the paper, dialed the number, punched in his pin number, and listened to the recorded instructions. His hopes dashed a little as he too had wished to speak with a live person.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Congratulations Mr. Martin,” read Adam. “What is it with all these scam contests? Why can’t one of these for once be legit? That would change everything.” Adam had been a star football player in high school and got a scholarship to play for the University of Michigan, but a shoulder injury took him out freshmen year. He needed some good news.

“I should give them a piece of my mind. Sending these letters, getting people’s hopes up, just to scam them. Who do they think they are?”

He furiously pounded his phone as he dialed the number. He would tell them. The second a voice spoke, he started ranting until he realized it was just a recording. “What a waste,” he thought. Well, he was this far, why not? He punched in his pin number and listened. He would receive a call in a day with further instructions. “Oh, I’m sure,” he began talking to the automated voice. “Yes, Mr. Martin, thank you for calling and verifying your award. Yes, all we need now is your bank account information, social security number, and credit cards,” he mocked.

“No, thank you.” He slammed his phone on the counter.

☆ ☆ ☆

Doctor Caitlyn Grey sat behind the large mahogany desk in her private office in Jacksonville, Florida. Her long legs crossed under her desk as she kicked her heels on and off. What a terribly boring day, she thought. Her calendar book was filled, yet Dr. Grey found her patients’ problems to be trivial. “The things people see a psychiatrist for these days.” She laughed to herself. Hadn’t she chosen this path to help people with real disorders? Why then is her day filled with people like Joan Hall who spends every minute of her bi-weekly hour-long sessions talking about her eleven cats and making cat noises? So, maybe there was an underlying cause for this behavior. When Joan had first come in, hadn’t she tried to ask questions and engage Joan? It was Joan who would not talk about herself and chose to focus only on her cats. There were fifteen of them then. “I guess that’s progress,” Dr. Grey reminisced.

“Your mail is here, Dr. Grey,” said Miranda, the good doctor’s secretary. She placed the mail on Dr. Grey’s desk.

“Thank you, and Miranda, call Antonio’s and make me a dinner reservation for tomorrow night.”

“Of course, Dr. Grey, How many?”

“Just one, but make sure you tell them to reserve my special table.”

Miranda gave a curt nod and left Dr. Grey alone with her thoughts and only the sound of her pumps popping on and off to fill the room. Dr. Grey shuffled through the mail tossing each unopened envelope back on the desk until she came across a unique blue one with silver lettering.

No return address, she noted. As she opened it, a sly smile broke across her face. A reality show really wanted a psychiatrist in its cast? Well, it would be to her advantage. She would, of course, see through their thinly veiled plots and uncover the truth. “Oh, yes,” she thought. “This could be enjoyable.”

Dr. Grey called the number and followed the instructions. She hung up the receiver and paged Miranda on the intercom. “Miranda?”

“Yes, Dr. Grey?”

“Be a dear and clear my schedule for next Tuesday. I’ve just received a call about an urgent meeting I must attend.”

“Of course, Dr. Grey. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes. I believe everything will be just splendid.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“Truest Noon Productions. How lame,” Emma Riley decided. And yet, something about the name intrigued her. She had never heard of them before. She sat pondering the content of the letter. The twenty-one-year-old college student attended New York University with an undeclared major. She had entered the school when she was seventeen and had jumped from program to program. Why would anyone want her on television? She was a loner, who cared less about reality television than the over-hyped pop artists with whom radio stations are determined to melt listeners’ brains. And yet, this one intrigued her.

Emma pulled up a search engine on her computer and entered “Truest Noon Productions.” A dozen websites popped up in the results, but none an exact match. She couldn’t find any digital record of the company at all. She searched the phone number in hopes of pulling up a business listing. Nothing. She tried the address on the return envelope. Nothing. According to the map app on her phone, the address didn’t even exist. How could it not exist?

“I guess they really are keeping this show under wraps,” she contemplated. Emma stared at the letter and read it over and over again. There was just something about it, something peculiar. What was it?

She held the paper up to the light, but only found a logo imprinted in the threads of the paper. Unable to discover what was puzzling her, about the letter, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number. She pressed ‘0’ hoping to be transferred to a live person. It was no use; there was only the recording.

☆ ☆ ☆

Ms. Drake sat in the kitchen, her curious hands clutching the envelope. It was too thick and dark to see through. She had tried holding it up to the sun and a lamp. Neither came close to illuminating the contents. The envelope was sealed tightly, so there was no chance of accidentally opening it. Steam, she thought. She quickly boiled a large pot of water holding the envelope carefully over it. It was taking too long.

“He did say it was urgent,” she remarked. “Maybe I should open it, just in case it’s time-sensitive. Yes, yes, I think that will do.”

She took her letter opener and carefully broke the seal. “A reality television series? Mrs. Mulberry? No, it couldn’t be. They must have the wrong person,” Ms. Drake shook her head in protest. Then, she got an idea. The letter wasn’t actually addressed to Mrs. Mulberry at all. The envelope certainly was, but the letter was nameless. “I shouldn’t,” she muttered while grabbing the phone and dialing the number. “Well, who could it really hurt?” She admitted to herself. She couldn’t imagine Mrs. Mulberry accepting, and why should the opportunity go to waste?

(if you are interested in more and want to be tagged, please let me know)

((also if you made it this far OMGOSH HI AND THANK YOU 🥺😭))

#original work #original story #🙈#writing #novel #mystery #writer problems #writer #story #work in progress #delete later

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mordoriscalling · 4 years

Text

48 Weeks (3/4)

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Throughout the 48 weeks that Geralt and Jaskier spend apart, their relationship develops.

Aka, part 3 of the Singer and the Sailor AU no one asked for but I wrote anyway. The events of this story happen after Stay or Sail Away but before Homecoming. Warnigns: some sexual content ahead!

Weeks 25-36

Week 25

“There seems to be something special about the sea, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm.”

“You know, Tolkien once wrote that there was a special melody in between the sound of waves and seabirds’ song. Music that elves were susceptible to and, once they heard it, they couldn’t be satisfied by anything else but life at sea.”

There does seem to be something to it. Geralt hums again and asks, “Are you calling me an elf?”

Jaskier laughs. “You certainly are beautiful like one.”

Geralt scowls, thankful to all the gods that he can hardly blush. “You look more like an elf, with the ears."

Jaskier grins. “Ah, yes, that and my dashing good looks! And the fact that I love singing, and I don’t look my age and... wait.” Jaskier blinks. “Tell you what, maybe I am an elf.”

Geralt chuckles.

“And you, sir, you could be an elf too. You look like a legendary warrior from the First Age who would talk to dragons and outwit them.”

He rolls his eyes but lets Jaskier ramble on about his "warrior-ness".

Week 26

“You fucking what?!”

“You tried to teach chickens how to fly.”

“How is that worse than trying to school a bumblebee?” Jaskier shrieks. “What the fuck, Geralt?! How would you even attempt to do that?”

“We first trapped it in a jar –”

“Oh no.”

“– and then we would tap on the glass to make it fly in the opposite direction. In the end, it would fly away if it noticed our fingers getting close to the jar. That was our idea of schooling it.”

“The poor thing had to be terrified.”

“It was Eskel’s idea,” Geralt grumbles.

Jaskier sighs dramatically. “I can’t believe I love such a cruel man!”

Geralt freezes. “You what?”

“Shit."

Week 27

When Jaskier picks up, Geralt takes him in and his beauty is even more striking than usual. His features, both soft and sharp, his bright eyes, his charm and wit. Jaskier’s a talented, successful man, and Geralt can’t wrap his head around it.

“You love me?” he blurts out, still disbelieving.

“I’ve been serenading you for the past six months but thanks for noticing.”

Geralt snorts. “No, it’s... it’s you, and I am... me.”

He almost growls in frustration because words fail him yet again when he needs them most. Jaskier’s gaze softens with understanding anyway.

“Oh, my heart,” he replies quietly, “I know you think yourself broken and undeserving of good things because of your past but... you haven’t had an easy life and yet, you’re kind and willing to do so much for the ones you care about. You’re witty, sharp, capable and reliable. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner, really,” Jaskier says, his smile almost shy.

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to any of that. Three decades ago, he was living in an orphanage, just a kid with anger management issues and shitty, shitty prospects for the future. Now, he has a fucking celebrity confess his love to him.

“I...” he begins, then trails off. He knows he has to say something. ‘Love’ refuses to pass through his throat but there’s no mistaking about the warmth Geralt feels whenever he even thinks about Jaskier and all the ways in which he’s ridiculous. “I,” he starts again, “I... feel the same.”

For once, Jaskier is silent, his eyes glistening.

Week 28

“The tour was a success! Minus all the expenses od renting venues and everything else, we still made some decent money, which is great news. And the fans!” Jaskier gushes, “oh, Geralt, the fans! It feels fantastic to be appreciated by so many.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s good to be home, though. It’d be even better if you were here, you know? I... I wish you were.”

Geralt swallows hard. “Me too.”

There’s the heavy silence between them again as they look at each other helplessly. This time, it’s Geralt who breaks it.

“Now that you’re back,” he says, “could you see how’s Ciri doing? You could... drop by Yen’s place sometime.”

Jaskier’s grin is blinding. “Sweetheart, I’d be honoured! But only if Yennefer allows it too, of course.”

Now that, that part’s going to be the hardest.

Week 29

“I can so imagine you in lingerie.”

Geralt raises his eyebrows in surprise. Jaskier takes it as a clue to go on.

“The lingerie would be black of course and oh, it’d look magnificent on your body. I’d just watch you touch yourself, sprawled on the bed. Darling, what a sight you’d make. I could come just from looking at you but I’d try not to because I’d want to take the lingerie off of you, piece by piece. Slowly.”

Geralt’s breathing is already harsh and laboured, and he’s undoing his trousers with his free hand. “Jaskier,” he grits out.

“Yes, dear?”

“Keep fucking talking.”

Jaskier smiles dangerously.

Week 30

Earlier this week, he received a message with another recording from Jaskier. The song is slow, gentle and loving, because there’s no other word for it. It makes Geralt feel abashed.

When Jaskier picks up the video call, Geralt asks, referring to the lyrics, “you really think you see me?”

“I think I do,” Jaskier replies, his voice warm.

It’s a lie. Jaskier has no idea about Blaviken, he doesn’t know the whole of Geralt’s story. Still, it’s a nice lie to believe in.

Jaskier tells him he loves him once again. Geralt says it back. He wants to have this as long as he can.

Week 31

On Saturday that week, it’s Ciri’s fifteenth birthday. Geralt’s call interrupts the birthday party.

“Happy birthday, Cub.”

Ciri grimaces a bit at the old nickname, making him chuckle. She starts growing into a proper lioness, not a cub any longer. Cirilla is their pride and joy – a clever, talented, headstrong girl. Geralt could’ve never raised such a child alone. When he found out he was supposed to be her legal guardian just a week before he turned thirty – that he’d have to take in a traumatised four-year-old with vague memories of her family she lost in a car crash – he needed help. He contacted Yennefer for the first time in years. Caring for Ciri brought their love back to life. Before he knew it, he proposed, and then the three of them made a proper family Geralt never knew he would have. Whenever he was away, Yen had help from her brothers, and if they were deployed too, she could always count on Vesemir.

His marriage to Yen turned out to be a disaster in the long run and really, all of them – him, Yennefer, Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir – are just different shades of fucked-up. Ciri is their collective effort, though, and it often feels like she’s one of the few things they’ve ever done right.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there,” Geralt tells her.

“It’s all right, dad.”

It’s not, he knows it isn’t. Geralt should be there with her. He’s missed out on so much of her life already, and yet the Navy took almost another year away from them. Geralt fears that when he finally returns for good, he’ll seem like a stranger to her because of all the time they’ve spent apart. He's afraid that she’ll not even want him to make up for it.

“I love you, Ciri,” he says, desperate for her to know it all of the sudden.

She smiles slightly. “I love you too, dad.”

He smiles too and wants to apologize again but then Jaskier appears. Ciri starts talking about taking piano lessons from him and then Jaskier joins in, chattering about what they’ll work on first. Geralt simply sits back and lets their words wash over him in warm waves.

Week 32

There seems to be some development in the relationship dynamics back at home.

“Your ex-wife is very sexy and very scary,” Jaskier says, all casual, “I wish I could hate her but her fashion sense is impeccable. Is sexy and scary your type, by the way? Because if so, I only fall in within the sexy category.”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt, you wound me–”

Week 33

“I hate him.”

Geralt sighs. “You two are getting along, then?”

“He will do,” Yennefer answers. “You downgraded, of course, but you could’ve done worse.”

“Yen.”

“Fine. I’ll say this: I think he’ll be good for you.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “He is.”

“I’m glad to see you happy.”

Her voice is gentle like it almost never is and there’s an ache in his chest. In moments like this, the old regret that they didn’t work out burns bright. They’re too different and alike for it to be anything but damaging, though; similarly scarred and scared, knowing exactly where to bite on the raw. They lash out when they’re hurt, and they’re not good people, not exactly. All of this does not mix well. The good days, when they soared, could not compensate for all the pain.

The divorce two years ago was one of their best decisions, but they’re there for each other still, in a way no one really understands.

“I want to see you happy too, Yen,” he says.

“I have Ciri.” He doesn’t reply and she lets out a heavy breath. “I’m getting there. I think I really am.”

“That’s good. You... deserve it.”

“Aw, Geralt, Jaskier’s turned you all soft.”

Week 34

The past week, there have been three storms, two damages to the ship and one conflict among the crew. Geralt is just grateful that his job pays as well as it does.

He does miss home but the heaviness in his chest at the thought of his loved ones is not crushing anymore. Most days, he doesn’t think about them as much as he used to. When he focuses on work at hand, it seems like the ship, the crew and the waves around are the only things existing in the world. They’re supposed to get from one point to another, one task after another, and it’s fulfilling when they achieve it. He’s at home in the simplicity of it.

But then, there’re moments when he remembers that there’s another home, right where his family is, a whole world away. His weekly calls with Ciri, Yennefer and Jaskier only serve to aggravate him, showing him that there’s a different life for him out there. The sea pales in comparison to it.

This week, Geralt doesn’t like the reminder especially. He sees Jaskier on the screen and hates that he’s so far away, that it’s been like this for so long.

They don’t do much talking. Jakier strums his guitar idly and Geralt listens.

Week 35

“Your older brother is so nice!”

Jaskier angles the camera so that it shows Eskel next to him. Eskel raises his hand in greeting with a smile. Ciri is there too, focused on cutting vegetables.

They’re standing by the kitchen island in Yennefer’s apartment. Eskel returned from a deployment a few days ago and, being a good brother and uncle, he’s started taking care of their cub right away.

“He’s the devil incarnate,” Geralt grunts in reply.

Eskel makes a rude gesture at him.

“I refuse to believe it, darling!” Jaskier answers, “Such a sweet man cannot be evil.”

Eskel and Jaskier smile at each other. Something in Geralt goes dead cold.

He’s very well aware that his older brother is more attractive than him, particularly when it comes to character traits. Eskel’s gentler, more articulate and charming; a much better match for Jaskier, in truth.

Geralt secretly dreaded Eskel and Jaskier finally meeting and now as he watches the two joke and talk, it appears that he was right.

Week 36

“Just three more months!” Jaskier exclaims in greeting.

Geralt brushes his hand over his face because there’s nothing “just” about it. It’s been eight months at sea and the memories from before the deployment are like a distant dream.

“I wrote you a song, by the way. It’s about you coming home.” Jaskier smiles. “I know I’m getting a bit ahead of myself but it’s a nice thought. You being back.”

The song is by far the shortest and simplest Jaskier wrote for him but Jaskier voice has the haunting quality like it always does. Geralt, as always, can’t stop thinking it.

That day, he stands at the side of the ship and listens to the waves. He can almost hear the sea’s music and he already knows he’s going to miss it but at the same time, he can’t wait to be back on land; to return to the other home.

#myfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #modern au #the Sailor and the Singer AU

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mckinleyhq · 4 months

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welcome to the second day of spirit week !! it’s hump day ( wednesday ) and it's wayback day so come dressed up as student in the graduating class of 2004 - embrace your inner scene girl or preppy collar popping jock and show off your dope bling, you sexy beasts. ( yes we talked like that back then, leave me alone )

optional tasks.

one. create a post showing off your muse’s outfit for wayback day, feel free to get creative with this one !!

two. create a playlist of your character's favorite songs released during the year 2004 - the playlist should include at least 5 songs, but feel free to go wild !!

to count towards task fills, these must be original content uploaded and posted by you - reblogs of gif sets, photosets, etc will not count or be reposted onto the inspiration account.

this are just a few options for you that you can choose to participate in for this week’s theme - you are welcome to fulfill the task using all of these methods, some of them, or even by making up your own. as always these tasks are optional, but encouraged. you can post your results in the task channel and utilize the following tumblr tags: mckinleyhq:task & mhqinspo !! happy development !!

#weekly task: all #weekly task: homecoming

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luxeacademyhqs · 3 years

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Good evening, good morning, good afternoon guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! We’re having a hopping night over at Luxe Academy, and we’d love for you all to join in on the fun! If you’re looking for an inclusive, exciting, 21+ multifandom/oc rp with weekly events and biweekly tasks, you’ve come to the right place! I’ve just gotten our starter blog and gossip blog put together, and the good times are just getting started! Our Week of Welcome is well underway, including our Homecoming Carnival, Icebreaker Event, and our Homecoming Dance this weekend! Now is the perfect time to join in! So, hit me with those apps and questions, and bring all your gorgeous muses! We’d love to welcome you to Luxe Academy!

#appless rp #soulmates rp #d/s rp #college rp #smut rp #kink rp #mature rp #oc rp #multifandom rp #elite rp #glee rp #it rp #academy rp #active rp #group rp #original rp #luxe.admin

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tessamarks · 5 years

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task:002

She wasn’t really sure how it happened. Tessa Marks hadn’t had full-blown actual feelings for anyone in decades. That was, until she got to know Mirabelle Lewis. On one of her first days in Gravestone, she’d come across the red-haired beauty. Well, came across was putting it subtly.

She’d been walking what seemed to be the main street, watching everyone live their lives as if there wasn’t a new girl in town - because to them, there wasn’t. That was until Tessa literally bumped into her. It had taken her by surprise - being solid and someone seeing her.

The girl apologized profusely, but Tessa stared at her shell-shocked. She could barely get a full sentence out, so she quit while she was ahead and just stared at her. Stop. Wait. How the fuck did that happen? She hadn’t touched anything in solid form since she’d died.

The girl smiled at Tessa, still apologizing.

“It’s okay,” Tessa was finally able to say, “but, how can that happen?”

“How’d what happen? I bumped into you because I wasn’t paying attention.”

“And you don’t see anything wrong with that?”

“I said I was sorry…”

Tessa went on to explain that she was, in fact, a ghost. It didn’t scare her off, which was a miracle in and of itself. They exchange names and pleasantries, agreeing to meet up again some time.

And some time turned into almost weekly until school started. Tessa had enrolled at the local school, ecstatic to finally learn in a formal institution instead of just lurking in the back of a classroom and soaking up knowledge from books over the decades.

Fast-forward to the Carnival. Tessa and Mimi had become the closest thing to best friends the spectre had seen in over a century. So when Mimi asked her to take her turn in the dunk tank, she happily agreed. Mimi was frantic and it was in that moment Tessa realized that she would more than likely do anything for her.

Tessa would do anything to show Mimi that she was worthy of everything good in the world. That she didn’t need to hide herself from anyone. That she deserved more than how her father treated her.

Tessa gathered some things that reminded her of Mimi: a green peony, a small seashell she’d teleported to the shores of France for, ribbon decorated with music notes and a small, red iridescent crystal. She fashioned them together with a few springs of purple heather into a corsage that she hoped Mimi would like. She put it in a small box and tucked it into her backpack, heading to meet her friend.

Tessa was frazzled the entire way to meet Mimi. She was going to ask her to homecoming. She was going to ask her to homecoming and she wasn’t even sure how it would go. She wasn’t even sure if Mimi had a romantic interest in girls. If not, they’d go as friends, but that wasn’t Tessa’s intention.

She slowly made her way to her petite redheaded friend.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice slightly shaking. Tessa hated how being in Gravestone made her far more human - complete with emotions and nerves and that feeling like she wanted to throw up.

She watched her friend turn around with a smile on her face - the one that was usually there in greeting.

“I have to ask you something, but I need to get it all out first or I’m going to chicken out. I don’t even know if you planned on going, or if you even wanted to but homecoming is soon and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go with me?”

She took the small box and opened it, revealing the contents to Mimi. She waited on baited breath for her to respond. Tessa probably should have thought this through...

@ohmimiohmy

#ghoulschool:task #ghoulschool task002 #[ ch : petite rouge ]#[ you've been ghosted ]#[ tessa is nervous af ]

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gotbts7fics · 5 years

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Positive | Four |

Three | May to June 2017 | Five |

The month began with you frantically arranging all the tasks you needed to accomplish. Jaebum had messaged you several times, each one left unanswered. You assumed he was just shaking his head at your stubbornness, not really assuming anything was wrong. That he would come home and make sure everything went back to normal. Except you wouldn’t be there when he came home. It was heartless, you knew it but you couldn’t figure out what else to do at this point. You had hidden a pregnancy, broken your own heart and were about to leave a country you called home for over three years.

“You should at least write him a letter. You’re going to break his heart anyways. At least give the dude closure so he can move on from your pathetic ass” Bree snorted through the screen. It was your weekly skype date with the two women who you loved more than anything. However, the conversation was not going in a positive direction as neither of them pleased with your actions and justifications at the moment.

“I also think you need to write him a letter, if not, text. SOMETHING! This is insane you just leaving him without thinking of the bigger picture.” Kassie stated as a matter of fact.

“Well what do you want me to do. ‘Hey Babe, I’m sorry, but I am kinda eighteen weeks pregnant. Sorry for hiding almost half a pregnancy….SURPRISE!’ Like really?” You bit out, face contorting in annoyance. It was the same conversation lately. Everyone was upset with your decision. They couldn’t believe you were actually going to hide this baby and run away.

“Well whose fault is that!” Kassie retorted with just as much annoyance. You huffed out a response to her.

“Ladies enough. Listen, we love and support you no matter what. We just feel like this was not the best way to handle the situation, but we support you. We just know how much shit you’ve been through and you deserve the world babe.” Bree insisted while looking intently at her screen.

“I love you both. I know the decision I made is selfish, but I didn’t know what to do…” You mumbled looking down to your lap, tears threatening to spill over any minute. These pregnancy hormones were killing you. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry. We got you. Everything will work out eventually. I promise” Kassie assured.

“thank you…” You replied. After several more minutes of chit chatting the girls said their goodbyes, having to get ready for work, and you needing to get ready for bed. Tomorrow you had another ultrasound appointment, and were excited to finally find out what the gender of the baby was. As if they knew you were thinking about them, the little human sent out a very hard kick. “Well, hello to you too, little bean.” You whispered rubbing your belly. You definitely were starting to show now, however still able to hide the small round belly with sweaters. Sighing, you stood up from your position and headed to bed. It was going to be a long day tomorrow.

The following morning after dropping Jaidyn off to school, you made your way to the clinic for your eighteen week check up. The clinic was busy on this particular morning, with many moms to be already in the waiting room. Upon registering for your appointment, you took a seat in front of the window, figuring to pass time you can watch people walking by as you read over different pamphlets on pregnancy and the first few months after birth. It was a painfully long 45 minutes with a full bladder, before you were finally called in by a nurse to a room.

The technician followed her in and began the vigorous amount of tests and scans of your uterus and the human inside. As the technician swirled the wand around your belly, you watched as the little human you had created twisted and turned on the screen. You were already hopelessly in love with this tiny being.

“Alright Ms Y/L/N, your baby is developing perfectly, everything looks healthy and on tract. Would you like to know the gender of your baby?” The technician asked as she rolled the wand around your stomach for a better view. “Yes please, if it is easy to tell” You replied with a wide smile on your face. The technician brought the ultrasound in between the baby’s legs. “Do you see?” She asked with a smile.

“Yes, yes I do” You smiled, as tears slowly fell down your face. You were looking at the newest member of your little family. After receiving the ultrasound pictures, you packed your things and headed to work. You only had a few more days until the end of your contract, which was a bitter sweet reality. You clutched the picture of your beautiful baby, thinking about how this tiny human was about to make your life so much sweeter.

Before you could even fathom it, you were days away from heading home. May went by seemingly fast after your last medical appointment, a combination of finishing work, and packing your life away and were getting ready to ship your belongings home, had left little time to dwell on the reality around you. You had the hard conversation with Jaidyn that you two would be moving home to Canada. Jaidyn was not happy, she had a life in Seoul that she loved, and moving home was not “a good choice” in her words. However, after much persuasion, you had convinced her that she was going to be happy back home, in your little town with her grandparents and friends. JB had continued to message you, but you refused to answer any of them. His last text had been almost a week prior, and as you reread it, your heart was breaking. You were causing him so much pain.

[3:16pm] Jaebum: Look, I am angry. You’re being a selfish frigging brat. I get it, you’re upset but to be so immature that you can’t even respond. I am trying here, but I will only give you so much. I need to think about myself too. You’re hurting me. I want nothing more than to hold you and love you, but you can’t even give me a text back. I miss my daughter and you won’t even send me pictures or answer the phone. You’re just… Wow… really. We’re heading to Thailand from Japan. I’m sorry, I wish I could see you sooner. I’ll be back in Korea on June 5th. So please baby, let’s talk this out. I hate this shit. I love you. I’ll be waiting.

“He’s returning to Seoul on the day I leave.” You said into the receiver.

“And you’re really not telling him anything?” The male on the other line asked.

“No, I’m not.”

“What’s so bad about this guy, that after what… three years, you can’t even be honest with him?”

“Nothing is wrong with him, He is perfect. But I won’t wreck his career. I can’t do that.”

“I don’t understand, you’re putting this guy ahead of you and his child… what type of man… You know what… whatever. I don’t understand. I just know that this guy doesn’t deserve you if you think that his career is worth more than this child. When you come home, you will have me to support you” Owen said, he was having a very difficult time with you being dishonest, but he was your best friend, and he would be there to pick up all the pieces when you came home.

“Thank you, I know you don’t get it. I know it sounds crazy and after everything you’ve been through… I just love him so much I need him to succeed” You were toying with your hands now, anxiety getting the best of you.

“Okay, I love you and because I love you, I will support your decision. I am also selfish because I want my niece and you home.”

“Will you pick me up in Toronto? I know you hate the city….”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss this homecoming for the world.”

“OK, I’ll talk to you later. I am going to get some packing done. I can’t believe I’m moving home.”

“Me neither, I was against you abandoning me in the beginning anyways so I am excited to have you back, you jerk” He said right before he ended the call. You smiled to yourself, it was a little bit easier to go home to him. The man who had been your best friend since you were sixteen. The man who has been there non stop as the stellar uncle to your kid when her own biological father was a flop. You knew without a doubt he would be just as amazing with this new baby as he was with your first born. You went back to packing the apartment after that phone call. Time was running out in Seoul.

“Mom, can we get Starbucks?” Jaidyn asked as she wheeled her suitcase along the corridor to your designated gate. Why was this airport so big? You thought to yourself. You had popped in your opinion now, enough that if people knew you, they would be questioning your rounder belly. Still today, a very hot day, you wore a hoodie to hide the not so little bean growing rapidly in your tummy.

“Sure, hey… I’m going to get us a chair over there, you go right a head and get in line, can you see me?” Jaidyn nodded after your question.

“Good, you know what I like, get us both a treat baby” You said with a smile on your face. You were having cramps today and were anxious about flying. Your nerves intensified when you checked the flight schedule and noticed there was a huge possibility that Jaebum may arrive to Incheon prior to you actually being on the plane now due to a delay. You dreaded seeing him. Especially since you literally only texted him an hour before, well aware that he was in the sky and he wouldn’t get it until he landed. You knew what you had done was unbelievably heartless, yet you refused to take it back. Your phone chimed to notify you of a text message from your mom, wishing you a safe journey home. With your phone open, you went to the conversation you had with JB. Countless unanswered messages from him where he declared his love for you, for Jaidyn, telling you how he was miserable with you ignoring him. It all came down to your last message to him.

[1:15pm] You: I’m sorry. I’m moving home to Canada today.

It was a simple, yet devastating text message. The type the punches you in the gut and leaves you kneeled over and sobbing. And now you were silently praying that your flight wouldn’t hit a further delay and overlap the time you and him would both be at this airport, because if you saw him, if he begged, you would fall into his arms and tell him everything. If he asked you to stay, you would. You would ruin him.

“Mom, is Appa going to meet us here, I miss him so much. Will he at least say goodbye to me?” Jaidyn asked as she returned and placed a drink in front of you, drawing you out of your thoughts. Her seven year old self was asking so many questions lately. You were avoiding them at all cost until you arrived in Canada. You just didn’t want her to know about this baby yet, or know you had ended it with the man she saw as her dad. It was weighing heavily on you, and your sanity was slowly unravelling.

“No baby, he’s not home from Thailand yet. We will talk to him once we are home in Canada okay?” You answered, looking down at your drink. You had become a liar. Constantly avoiding the issues at hand to try and keep the peace within.

“Less than twenty minutes until we board the plane love, are you excited to see Uncle Owen and Gramma and Grampa” Asking to distract her.

“Oh yeah! Uncle Owen is picking us up!!! I can’t wait to see him!!!” She exclaimed as she took a sip of her drink. You guys sat in silence for a bit, just waiting for the agents to call boarding. That’s when you heard the screaming. Your breath hitched in your throat and you tried to make yourself small. You knew all to well those types of screams. Fans screaming. Oh Fuck, you thought. Taking deep breaths to prevent yourself from having a panic attack, praying it was some other idol group walking through the airport, and not the man you were desperately trying to avoid.

“Maman, who is that? Why are they screaming?” Jaidyn looked around from her chair. “I don’t know sweetie, lets not stare.” You replied, also while trying to be discreet as you looked around. Please, please, please.... You silently prayed. Ding. Your cellphone went off. Pulling it out of your pocket cautiously, like a bomb that could explode any minute, you opened to your messages.

[3:55pm] Jaebum: Are you in the airport?

[3:56pm] Jaebum: Please baby, tell me you’re still here.

[3:56pm] Jaebum: Baby, please. At least let me say goodbye to Jaidyn.

You took a deep breath, you knew he could see you had read the messages. You struggled with yourself. The internal battle waging on.

[3:57pm] Jaebum: Answer me. I will fucking find you in this airport so help me god!

[3:58pm] You: I’m sorry, I truly am. But I don’t think it’s best to see each other. Please think of your fans

His reply was instant.

“Good Afternoon Ladies and Gentleman, we are now ready to board Air Canada flight AC062 destination to Toronto. We kindly ask you have your photo ID ready and locate the zone number on the top of your boarding card. We will be boarding zone one momentarily” You exhaled as you heard your flight being called for boarding. This was it, you were finally leaving.

[3:58pm] Jaebum: I will fucking tell the world right now about you, I will do whatever I need to do to make sure you don’t leave me. Please baby, don’t leave me. I need you, I need Jaidyn. DO NOT GET ON THAT PLANE!

Your phone started buzzing, JB was calling you. You quickly rejected the phone call. You didn’t know how much willpower you had to keep yourself from answering until you were on that plane, seated and buckled in. JB was frantic at this point, you had ignored his phone calls, them going straight to voicemail. He had been so elated to see you had finally messaged him back after weeks of ignoring him. Only his happiness had been crushed when he read your message. He didn’t think you were serious about breaking up, he figured he could fix this like he always did. You were stubborn and bold, but you loved him. He couldn’t believe you were actually ending it, and moving across the world. Why, what had he honestly done to make you this unhappy to make you move back to Canada. You loved Korea, Jaidyn loved Korea. He was trying to engage you in what little conversation he could, buying himself enough time to find you. You were in the airport, a quick search of flights shown there was only one to Canada, which meant if he could get to that gate he could find you, and hold you. Hell. he was pretty sure he would tackle you to the ground at this point and not let you board that plane, not caring who witnessed it. He hadn’t even had time to let anyone know what was happening. He had just showed his phone to Jinyoung and prayed he understood. Jinyoung had stared at him with wide eyes and then told him to go, pulling out his own, JB assumed, to message the others. He was running now. Surprisingly he had managed to get away from the fans who had been waiting for them. Trying his best to get to you, where ever you were in this godforsaken airport. DING! Please baby, please he thought.

[4:03pm] You: I’m sorry JB. Goodbye.

JB stopped in his tracks doubled over, gasping for air. No. He couldn’t stop himself, staring at your text message, he began to cry.

You were anxiously in line, desperate to get on that plane, looking around cautiously. If he saw you, if he found you, it was game over. What felt like forever you approached the agent, handing her the passports and boarding passes to scan. You were just about to walk through the doors when you caught the eye of someone. Jinyoung was standing just off to the side, staring at you with wide teary eyes gasping for air, looking like he wanted to yell at you. You shook your head not even bothering to try and hide your tears falling. Ushering Jaidyn away and onto the plane. Jinyoung’s heart broke for his friend, for the loss of you and Jaidyn.

You watched as Korea disappeared before your eyes from your tiny window. Jaidyn had fallen asleep the moment the engines turned on leaving you in a self loathing, pity party. You left the only man who had shown you what love really was, because you couldn’t be honest with him. You left behind your home and your life our of fear and selfishness. You were a terrible person, well, that’s what you were telling yourself until you felt a swift kick in your bladder and a head falling onto your shoulder. You were a mother, and even if it was selfish, you were going to protect the three people you loved the most. You hoped one day the people you loved would understand the choices you made

. JB found his way back to his members after what seemed like forever after watching your plane take off, feeling numb to the pain that was in his heart. The members just looked at him cautiously, knowing that this loss would forever change him, would change them. You had become family, they had helped raise that little girl of yours. There was confusion and anger, unanswered questions that they needed clarified. This wasn’t you. You loved them all, you loved JB with your whole being. Something was wrong.

“Hyung, I am so sorry!” Jinyoung gasped, rushing forward and wrapping his arms around JB.

“I couldn’t find them, I couldn’t find them before she left.” JB buried his face into Jinyoung’s shoulder.

“I tried to stop her Hyung, but I was to late. I am so sorry, she was walking on to the plane when I finally found her” Jinyoung said, his own tears threatening to fall. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I asked so much of her, she tried to tell me how unhappy she was. She just wanted a normal life. I ruined everything” JB mumbled, tears still falling.

“Let’s go home and just try to figure out what to do next. We will get her back Hyung. There is no way she is gone” Jackson piped in. All JB could do was stay positive he would find you again.

#positive #got7 #got7 x reader #got7 pregnancy au #jb x reader #jaebum x reader #jaebum

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apawcalypse632-blog · 5 years

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Building Trust

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039812

Chapters 1/1 Words:18655

Summary:

When Tony and Peter get trapped in a building a few months after The Vulture, Tony uses it as a chance for them to get to know each other.

Tags: Miscarriage, Claustrophobia, partly non cannon - I do what i want, Infertility, Tony and Peter father and son, all errors grammatical or otherwise are my own,.I'm not a doctor or a construction worker, talks about people who are dead, Angst, head cannons accepted, Suicidal Thoughts,Big Bang Challenge

Peter had once read that Finland had one of the worst winters on the planet. It was in one those top ten BuzzFeed articles and at the time he’d thought nothing of ever needing to know this information. That, however, was before Spiderman, before Mr. Stark and before the Avengers - because here he was on the top of a building, designated as a look out along with the Falcon, freezing. He didn’t know if Falcon felt the same chill, as he was on the building catty corner to him Peter hadn’t thought Finland would be this cold, but he couldn’t disagree that Finland had harsh winters, as he was feeling the harsh cold wind even with his spidey suit on and heater running at full blast. He wasn’t about to complain though. This was his first major Avengers mission since Homecoming and the Vulture. He wasn’t an official Avenger, yet. Mr. Stark referred to him as an “Avenger in training”. Which meant two to three days a week he trained with one of the Avengers. This was even more awesome then it sounded. He enjoyed getting to know them one on one. Or he tried to. The first time he met Cap in person, Peter had been so excited and spellbound, he didn’t say a word for about fifteen minutes, just nods and hand gestures. Peter had been thoroughly embarrassed by his behavior when he was in the lab with Mr. Stark later. Mr. Stark had assured him it was fine, and that Cap had thought it was endearing.

“Endearing.” He’d moaned covering his face back up with the pillow on Mr. Starks old couch. “That’s like saying ‘cute’. I’m fifteen, I’m not cute.” Peter could feel the mechanic raise his eyebrow. “You know what I mean.” “It’s fine kiddo, I promise. It’s not like with black widow where you called her a mama spider.” “I just meant that she is protective and has maternal instincts.” He tried to explain. “Even if true, don’t upset a spy kid. It won’t end well for anyone. Besides Cap understands that your nervousness is 50% looking up to him and 50% hero worship.” Peter groaned and buried his face under the pillow.” Mr. Stark grinned. “I promise, it’s fine.”

“Look alive kid.” Falcon called in the com.

Making Peter blush as he came back to the present and looked around. He really should have his entire attention on what’s up. He just found distracting himself made him less cold. Peter looked up from his position. “Right, sorry.” His teeth chattered a bit and he shivered.

“The cold giving you problems Pete?” Mr. Stark asked.

“Didn’t you give him a heater, Tony?” Cap asked.

“Of course, I did, and by my calculations he’s been running it at full tilt for about 45 minutes.”

“That’s right.” Bruce chimed in before he could say anything more. ”Spiders don’t thermal regulate. I bet you don’t adjust to cold weather well at all. This must be awful for you.”

“I could give you a lift back to the jet if need be. Bruce won’t mind company.” Tony offered.

“No Mr. Stark I’m good. Really.” He said moving along the edge of the roof trying to get warmer.

“Ok we only have about twenty to thirty left.”

“Only,” Hawkeye tutted, and Peter saw one explode from what must have been an arrow.

“As I was saying before the interruption,” Mr. Stark cut in, “We are dwindling them down.

When we’re down to five to ten you can come down and help finish off. Falcon is coming now, so it’s just you on lookout kid.”

“Sounds good.” Falcon stated. And Peter watched the wings span as he headed for the ground.

“Sure thing Mr. Stark.” Peter said with a smile. He was going to fight Alien Robots sometimes his life really was amazing.

Peter worked to keep his mind on the task at hand after that, really, he was excited to be here and not just about first avenger missions, but it was kind of hard to not be excited about alien robots, because honestly, they were awesome looking. It reminded him of a kitten - cute on the outside, murderous rage on the inside. He sighed. He would be in on the action soon enough and if he was moving more, he might be warmer He knew Mr. Stark had his reasons for keeping him on the roof and not in the fray, but he was a little annoyed to be stuck as a look out. He wouldn’t complain about this, because being here was awesome. His whole life was awesome. Well sort of. He’d lost his parents and uncle far too soon and he and Aunt May struggled, but they had each other, there was food – maybe not enough, but enough to get by. And now he had Mr. Stark. Since the events with the Vulture, Mr. Stark was trying to make amends and train him and finally be a mentor to him.

He climbed up on the ledge checking that all signs were clear and trying to see any more of the fight, which he couldn’t now. It had moved further up the road. He sat down on the edge of the building swinging his legs a bit. He took a deep breath trying to soak in everything. He was with the Avengers, doing Avenger-y stuff. It gave him such a thrill. After he turned down his chance at being an avenger, probably the dumbest thing he’d ever done, he was sure Mr. Stark was totally done with him. Then the man had returned the suit and sent a text message the next day asking if they could meet to discuss the mentorship/internship.Peter had hesitated. Aunt May had told him he was grounded from everything but school until further notice. She had not been thrilled to find out her fifteen-year-old child was a vigilante. But Peter saw the perks of a meeting with Tony and His Aunt, hopes that Tony could persuade her where he couldn’t. He’d agreed to meet and made plans for all three of them to gather the next day at a coffee shop near his school. When they had arrived, his Aunt May had been ticked and immediately began giving Mr. Stark a piece of her mind. Pepper had stood in the background obviously amused at Mr. Stark's discomfort. But after ten minutes had stepped in to help. She’d calmed May down, had given her tea and some cookies and they began discussing how this would all work. When they came back around to Peter being grounded and not being allowed to meet with Tony yet, all three adults had turned to give him looks ranging from disapproval to glaring. Suddenly he wondered what made him think this was a good idea. Tony had relented first, and promised Peter could start the internship after his grounding was over and that he would do his best to not let things interfere with school or any extra curriculars. May had then reluctantly agreed, much to Peters delight, and informed Peter he would be in the dog house awhile as his grounding was three weeks and school, decathlon and home were the only places he could go. Also, he was put in charge of all chores around the apartment. Peter would have tried to talk his way out of it, spiderman existed because he wanted to fix things and help people, but his grounding wasn’t really him being spiderman, that wasn’t the biggest problem to May. It was the lying and leaving her out of it all. She wasn’t thrilled with him being in danger, but Mr. Stark agreed that he had the absolute best for his suit, and he’d be getting training from the best. Plus, he was on top of keeping the kid’s identity a secret. They’d left, not before Peter gave a giant thank you to the man who had always been his hero. Tony had smiled and told him not to thank him.

Peter had thanked May and been happy to have her know. They talked a little about what had happened but May seemed a little distant about things. Peter couldn’t blame her it was a big shift to find your nephew was a superhero. The three weeks had not flown by. He’d been bored with zero electronics and only school to see his friends. Ned had been supportive and tried to cheer him up. MJ without even knowing why he was grounded had insisted it must be serious if he was being punished for so long and therefore his fault. He knew she was right, but it didn’t make it easier.

When the three weeks had ended, he was thrilled. He and Mr. Stark met at the compound after Happy had picked him up from school. They had a late lunch and laid out some ground rules and gone over the schedule. Mr. Stark and he would meet two days a week and every other weekend. This gave him time for homework and friends and May and still left plenty of time for Spiderman. It was a good deal for Peter. He had been disappointed to learn his time wouldn’t be with just Iron Man but recovered quickly when he realized he would be taught by some of the other Avengers. Now when he arrived at the compound, he’d change into his workout clothes then proceeded to do a basic conditioning program (basic for a budding super hero), then two to three hours of training with one of the Avengers usually in combat or self-defense. Though Widow had started a tiny bit of spy training. Finally, he got to meet with Mr. Stark for dinner. Usually taken in the mess hall or the Avenger wing. Weekends were another day of training, and then a full day in the lab with Mr. Stark. That was the best part. Watching the way, the man worked, getting to help. Ned was super jealous, but Peter gave him all the descriptions of everything he could. Overall, it had only been a little over two months, but from what he could tell things were getting better. He knew and trained with the avengers, though he felt sometimes they treated him like a mascot. But he was so grateful to be here that he allowed their treatment and didn’t say anything. He just wanted to be on the team. Things were still a bit closed off between him and Mr. Stark. Their weekly meets were amazing, and he learned a lot, but the man seemed distant still. Mostly he talked about things anyone could hear about. Well until the last week or so. He’d begun to talk a bit about his wedding to Pepper which would be on June eighteenth of 2019. And probably a blow out in terms of party and cost. The date was not something anyone really knew, so Peter felt privileged to know.

They also had pretty good banter. Peter felt he could to an extent tease Mr. Stark and accept the same from him. They didn’t really goof off in the lab, but sometimes at dinner or training it would happen.

Peter did a quick look around and didn’t see anything. So, he checked up on the fight and they were down to fifteen. He decided to wait till they had twelve which wouldn’t be long. He thought about quickly pulling out his Stark phone and texting Ned. The phone and a new lab top had been courtesy of the “internship.” He had tried to politely refuse, but Aunt May had approved it. Peter felt like neither of them was making sense when that happened. Mr. Stark giving him some of the latest lap top and phone tech. Especially when he’d just been so pissed at him for the Ferry. May having just caught him in his suit a week before and her agreeing to such expensive items. It seemed outside of what he knew about them both. Aunt May had explained he was close to sixteen and therefore closer to eighteen and if she forbids him from this, he would just work harder to keep it from her. She knew he would keep doing this no matter what she and Mr. Stark might tell him. He had felt a bit bad because he knew she was right.

Peter shivered and ran his hands up and down his arms to get some warmth back into them. He was watching and waiting for the last two to take a hit before jumping into the fray. He wondered if because he was perched high on a roof if it was colder than usual. He looked around to see what was happening as part of his outlook duties he needed to look at places other than the fight. The fighting was mostly happening in the middle of four buildings. Peter could see Cap, Widow, Hawkeye and Scarlet all down in the middle of the action. Hulk hadn’t been called in yet but was on standby. Falcon was now down in the fray as well.

Peter sighed, he wouldn’t complain about being with the avengers out loud, but he was a little annoyed Mr. Stark had insisted Peter work as back up, despite the teens protest, as he was getting over a cold that had lasted two days and for Peter with the spider bite that was a long cold. Also, Mr. Stark pointed out he was “in training.” Peter had thought about commenting if that made Falcon in training too. But they weren’t there yet. The teen squatted down watching the fight, still pumped to go, in spite of his position, when they finished killing two more, make that one more, robot.

There was a low rumble then that caught Peter’s attention. The building across from him has been hit with an explosive device. Peter’s advanced hearing picked up a small scream and he began looking around. The area was to have been evacuated when they got there. Peter had helped with it. But looking down he saw a young girl probably around four, stumbling sleepily out of the room with blanket in hand. Peter slung his web and went swinging across what had become the battlefield again as the Avengers chased 11 robots through the streets.

“Kid?” Iron man shouted over the com, “What the heck are you doing?”

Peter focused on getting to the kid no one else saw, didn’t answer, just swung in front of her and swung her back and away from the damage. Then he left her with an EMT further away and came back to jump into the fray as he saw number eleven explode.

“Nice work on the kid, kid.” Mr. Stark said as Peter jumped in beside him. The teen grinned at him.

“Seems we got about ten left and that building needs rechecked. He pointed over towards the building where the child had come out of.

“I can do that.” Peter said heading to the building.

“Be careful Pete.” Iron Man said as he blasted number eight and nine out of the way.

“Always, Mr. Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “If you get hurt, I have to tell Aunt May. No one wants that.” He said with a half-smile. He shot one the aliens in the face. “Remember that.”

“I’m not sure how that effects ME. Mr. Stark.”

“Brat.”

Peter chuckled and entered the blown-out side of the building being careful to watch for anything structurally unsound. Though he couldn’t imagine Mr. Stark sending him in without having checked for that first. He wasn’t far in when he felt his breath begin to quicken.

“You OK Spider.” It was Widow. He sighed sometimes he loved having the Avengers watch out for him and other days it was like having five older siblings and two extra parents, or maybe four older siblings and three extra parents. Peter got confused when he tried to figure out who the mom in the relationship was, though he knew Tony was the dad. Or not that he thought that Mr. Stark was his dad, or thought of him like that, but he was something. A mentor at least. God, Peter thought, what if Tony was the mom? Then Steve or Stephen or Bucky, maybe? One of them would be the dad. Peters breath sped up.

“Peter, kid?” Tony asked, and Peter realized he’d not responded.

“Fine.” He croaked out.

“Don’t sound it Peter. Come back out someone else will check.”

“What? No, Mr. Stark I can do it.”

It was a moment and then the man responded. “First of all, we’ve talked about this before. When on missions you are to be completely in subjection to the leadership of this team. Which means if you disagree, you do what?”

Peter took a breath feeling like a kid being scolded and said, “I take it up with you or Cap privately or in a meeting and not on the comms.”

“Correct. Now you are in a private channel, so lay it out for me.”

Peter smiled, realizing the man wasn’t mad at him just teaching him.“Well, I feel fine Mr. Stark.” He said walking a little further in.

“The breathing changes?”

“I, um, I don’t always like small spaces.”

“You’re claustrophobic?”

“Just sometimes.” He hedged. “Apparently there was a day care next to this edge room.” He said trying to change the subject. Peter heard a creek and his breath sucked in.

“Peter, I think you should leave. Come out and let someone else deal with it.” A Pause, “No one will think less of you.”

The fact that he said it made Peter think they would. “I’m fine. Mr. Stark.”

“Peter, I’m pulling rank. Get out now.”

“I’m fine.” He insisted continuing forward.

“I will ground you for a month if you don’t exit now.”

“Can you even do that?” Peter wondered aloud.

“I have ways. And I know people.”

“But there’s a field trip for decathlon soon.” Peter said making it to the edge of the room, but not heading out.

“Then do as you’re told.”

Peter sighed and headed out of the room. He was in the doorway when things began to rock. He grabbed hold of the door frame and tried to calm his breathing. He could hear Tony yelling across the com. Peter knew he should move and try to go towards the exit, throw a web or something, but all he could remember were Vultures wings. The stupid thing knocking out four pillars and him, underneath it all. His breathing really did go a muck with this memory.His breathing rapidly sped up and he couldn’t catch his breath. Little gasps, as sawdust and drywall seemed to fill his lungs. His right hand gripped hard on the door frame making finger dents in the groove and his left came to cover his mouth. He wasn’t sure exactly what happened next, but within a minute something slammed into him. He whimpered as he was pushed further into the room. Whatever had him was hard and metal and had pulled him tight to them self before wrapping itself in a ball over around him and an arm over his head partly shielding his face as part of the ceiling began to fall in.

It was minutes of darkness, noise and things pinging off Iron man, as Peter finally realized it was Mr. Stark wrapped protectively around him. As it began to quiet, Peter could hear the man in his ear whispering soothingly and it -wasn’t on the comm. This was live and in person. It seemed to settle so Peter started to move. But was held firmly in place and that was good because there were a few post falling objects that landed around them.

“All right.” Tony said a few minutes later when everything had finally stopped. He moved off him and began to assess.

Peter looked up at him, the man was covered in dirt and debris and there were some pings and scratches in the suit. “Are you ok, Mr. Stark?”

Tony did a once over and said, “Yea, you?”

Peter started to do the same moving to twist around so he could sit but he let out a small whimper, bringing Tony closer to his side.

He placed a hand on his knee and moved the kids leg around, letting out a low whistle. “You have a piece of glass in your leg. Alien robot glass at that.” When Peter looked at him questioningly, he stated, “Normal glass wouldn’t graze the suit.” Tony moved his hand causing Peter to wince. “Pretty big piece too.” Tony said gently maneuvering around his lower left leg.

Peter winced, “Can we get it out? And how did I get Alien tech in my leg?”

“There was one back near the next room, pretty sure he’s squished now, but he managed to get a shot off before I had you, sorry kid.”

Peter shuddered at the idea of being squished by the building. He took a deep breath, “That’s OK Mr. Stark, sorry I didn’t see him.” He said sheepishly.

Tony gave him a shrug. “It’s ok, kid. Friday.” Tony said, “You with me girl?

“Yes boss. I have scanned the area and things are stable. I have also scanned the wound and it seems that it is embedded in the muscle and near the posterior tibial artery and removing it would be unwise.” Peter dropped his head closing his eyes and trying to not cry. It hurt, and it just felt weird having something embedded in him.

Tony squeezed his shoulder “It will be fine Pete. Friday send coordinates to Cap and have him send an ETA please. Let the others know Peter is injured.”

“Certainly” Friday said.

A few minutes later Friday came back, “Due to the way the building has collapsed it will be several hours before they can retrieve you both. The alien invasion is over however.”

“One good thing,” Tony sighed, “Ok let them know the injury is that Peter has alien glass in his leg. Not life threatening from blood loss, yet, that I can tell, but high potential of infection and disease given its alien origin and I’m not sure we have anything to clean it with, but I’m just starting to look.”

“Message being relayed.”

Tony stood and walked the perimeter of the space they were in. There were shelves of cubbies and a desk at the front. “Peter, I think we’re in the day care room.”

“Great,” Peter muttered tightly, propped up against the wall, “I can see the others never letting me live that down.”

Tony chuckled, “Maybe, but they like you. I think they might tease a little, but it just means they are accepting you and treating you like part of the team. We all tease each other”

Peter sighed resting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. “Maybe they could be less accepting.”

Tony stopped in his looking and gave Peter a long look. “Is someone giving you a hard time? Because if they are Cap and I can take care of it. Unless it is Cap? It isn’t me is it. I thought you liked banter,”

Peter opened his eyes, “It’s not you or Cap or anyone on the team for that matter, I just don’t like to be teased.” He hoped Tony would drop it.

“Sure kid, we’ll lay off, but just know no one means anything negative by it.”

Peter sighed, “Sorry Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, there teasing is fine. Really.”

“You sure?” Tony asked skeptically as he rifled through the teacher’s desk.

“Yea.” He closed his eyes again and waited as Tony searched the rest of the room.

It was a few minutes later when Tony returned with what he found.

“What’s all that?” Peter asked looking at the stack of stuff.

‘Some blankets, toddler sized, but should help us elevate and keep you a little warmer – even got a pillow.”

Peters eyes widened when he saw it was a Thor pillow. “I don’t need a pillow.” He said quickly. Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal, no one is here to see. Besides you’ll be more comfortable.”

Peter sighed took it and put it behind his head. It was small, but Tony was right it was comfortable. Tony proceeded to roll up a couple of the small blankets and gently prop his leg up.

“I found a first aid kit, so I’m going to clean up the best I can. It might hurt.” He warned.

The teen nodded. He’d had Tony clean out a wound before and it always stung. The man always apologized, but explained they had to use strong antiseptic to make sure infection didn’t set it. Peter had asked about that once since he had a healing factor and Tony explained that it was the fast metabolism that would run the infection through his body faster than a normal person and that could be deadly. So, it was best to prevent infection as much as possible. Tony began to open the kit and decided a distraction was in order.

So how is school?” Tony asked settling down next to the kid and pulling out the antiseptic and some cotton balls.

“School is school.” Peter answered with a shrug not opening his eyes.

Tony opened the bottle and poured some peroxide onto the small cotton balls saturating them.

“Grades?” He said, putting on hand firmly on the kids knee to hold him in place.”

“Well within acceptable Spiderman levels.” Came the reply. Peter turned his head away, so he didn’t have to watch or know when it was coming. Tony nodded. “good.” He then laid the cotton balls on the top of the glass giving each a small squeeze to get the peroxide into the wound. Peter hissed and jerked, his leg tensing at the sharp burn. His eyes watered and he blinked rapidly to try to keep any tears from falling, but Tony had only done side of the glass. By the time he’d finished the second side light tears were falling. Tony cleaned the mess of cotton balls quicky before handing a tissue he found to Peter.

“Sorry kid, but it was necessary.” He moved to sit next to him against the wall. Peter moved a little so they were shoulder to shoulder. His Thor pillow was comfortable enough for now.

“Thanks. Mr. Stark.” He said quietly.

“You’re welcome.” Tony said reaching up and giving a gently ruffle to the kids hair. Affection like this wasn’t often in their routine, thought toney was doing more recently.

Since you didn’t have much to say about school and you are doing well,” He monitored the kid’s education, mostly just to make sure his grades were still acceptable for the internship. “How are Ned and MJ”

“Ned is going to get the new Lego set for us to build. Lots of pieces and with only a few days a week to work on it, could take months, so it sounds awesome. Bit expensive though. MJ is… well I think she might want to date me.” He said giving his mentor a sideways glance.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “You think?”

“Well one minute she acts like she likes me and the other she calls me loser. So I’m not sure.” He said with a shrug.

“Really?” He asked ears perking up as he turned to Tony.

“Yes really. At your age love is weird. You don’t always know how to express it. Sometimes at my age you still don’t.

“Oh.”

” Yea.” Tony said staring off.

Peter waited a moment before asking, “Was it hard to date as Iron Man?”

“Please.” He scoffed, “Peter, you’ve seen the news, I’ve dated a ton of women as both Iron Man and Tony Stark.”

“That’s not… I mean what if Pepper got hurt because you’re Iron man?”

Tony sighed, pulling his knees up and crossing his elbows over his knees. “She did actually. With the Mandarin. She was hurt, nearly killed. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her kid. She’s the love of my life, the only person I can imagine tolerating me until I’m old and grey, and she still lets me do what I need to as Iron Man. She yells a bit when I’m stupid… Rhodey does too. But for the most part we work. There is balance.” He took a deep breath, “To answer your original question, I’d die if anything happened to her that I could prevent, but I wouldn’t give up what I have with her in the off chance something might happen. Been there done that. I think I’ve learned my lesson.” “Hmmm.” Peter hummed. “Thanks Mr. Stark, that’s helpful.”

Tony smiled. “Yea?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. Peter nodded. “Good.”

They sat in silence for a while before Tony looked at his watch and said, “Cap says it will be hours before they can get to us.” He’d already removed his gear once he verified, they were in a safe space.

“Oh,” Peter said with a sigh. “Why so long?”

“Well a whole building basically sits between us.” Tony said and turned to Peter when he heard his breath hitch. “You OK?”

“Mmmhmm.” He murmured but he was gasping a bit.

“All right come on”. He said pushing the kids head down over his lap, “Breath kid.” It took a couple minutes but the kids breathing finally evened out. “You good now?”

Peters head came up and Tony could see the red on his cheeks. “Fine, Mr. Stark. Didn’t mean to freak out.”

“So, you said sometimes you are claustrophobic?”

“Um, maybe a bit, I mean I don’t like being in buildings that might fall on me.” He pulled his right leg up and propped his head on his knee, the Thor pillow falling to the side. He took a deep breath then confessed, “I had a building collapse on me once.” “What? When did that happen?” Tony said shocked.

“When the vulture happened.”

“Peter that was almost 4 months ago you couldn’t have mentioned it?”

“I didn’t think it mattered. It’s not like buildings collapse on me often.”

Tony shook his head. “You really need to let me know things like this kid. I can’t help, if I don’t know. And I know the Vulture bit was a fiasco on my end. But I’m trying now.” He took a deep breath,” Ok what’s done is done. Are you going to be ok down here?”

“Well it’s not dark and I’m not alone and it’s not literally on top of me with me trapped with pieces of it on me holding me in place, so hopefully it will be ok.”

Tony stared at him for a moment then made some clicks on his watch and a hologram of a building came up. “So, this is where we are,” Tony said pointing at a smaller room, “and the collapse blocking then runs along here.” He pointed along some spaces around them, “This is where we are, and you can see it’s structurally sound. It’s everything around us that is having problems. That’s why it will take a while. But we are safe where we are from a further collapse. Feel better?”

“Oh, that’s, that’s not so bad. But how did it collapse to begin with?”

“I believe that alien robot that managed to get a shot off and send glass into your leg had something to do with it. Friday can’t scan all their tech. If I hadn’t seen him…” He trailed off

Peter shuddered, then gave a small smile. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony flicked his watch and the image disappeared. “We have time to kill. You mentioned a field trip coming up?”

“Decathlon is going to Philly in a couple months they just announced that’s where the next competition will be. I must sit through some special thing with Principal Morita because of what happened in DC. They don’t want me to go AWOL again. But I get to go…. Well maybe.”

“Why maybe? I’m sure your principal will agree, you’ve been a model student since the Vulture incident.”

“It’s not that Mr. Stark. It’s just…. It’s kind of expensive and May is already working overtime. “

“Kid, if you need…”

“No thanks Mr. Stark. You already do more than enough for me, I can’t ask you for this.”

“I’m offering” He emphasized.

“Still Mr. Stark,” He said shaking his head. “I just wouldn’t feel right about it.”

Tony sighed. Then brightened, “You could work for me for it.”

“What? I mean I kind of already work for you.”

“Instead of just interning as Spiderman, I could give you actual chores/work around the lab or even the garage or penthouse and you could earn the money and it wouldn’t interfere too much with your other activities.” “That sounds… That sounds amazing actually.” He said with a nod.

“Good, then we are agreed.” He held out his hand and Peter shook it after only a moment.

Tony leaned back against the wall wondering what chores he could assign the kid, because his normal work wouldn’t cut it. It had to seem hard enough that he was earning it. Tony was sure he had some storage rooms that needed cleaned out and maybe work in the gym.

Tony realized after a moment that Peter’s breathing had changed and looked over to see he had a fine sheen of sweat across his forehead. “You ok?”

“Hmm.” Peters eyes squeezed shut and he made a small whimpering noise.

“Peter what’s wrong kid?”

“Leg.” He gasped out. “Hurts.”

Tony moved flicking his watch on for light and lightly took hold of his left ankle and turned the leg gently. “I can’t see anything causing pain, other than you have glass in your leg. There isn’t anything for pain in the first aid kit. Let me check the teacher’s desk. Maybe I missed it the first time.” He stood and quickly made his way to the front desk. Peter could hear him opening and closing drawers and then he came back a few minutes later.

“So, I found some children’s Motrin. Directions cover dosage up to an eleven-year-old, so I’ll just give you that dosage.”

Peter tensed as another sharp pain went through his leg and nodded willing to do anything to help. Tony poured the amount into the cup provided and then handed it to the kid. Peter tipped it back taking it like a shot in one go.

“You can’t take it again for 4-6 hours hopefully we’ll be out by then.” Tony said moving back up to sit by him. One hand dropping to the kid’s thigh and giving a light squeeze. “I know it hurts kid, but for now you’re going to have to just breath through it. The meds will kick in in maybe 30 minutes or so.”

Peter nodded, “Ok.” He said hoarsely and dropping his head over to rest on Tony’s shoulder. He didn’t want to try to crawl to the right and grab the Thor pillow.

“What you need is a distraction. Maybe a game.”

“I don’t see monopoly around here Mr. Stark.” The kid said humorlessly.

Tony rolled his eyes. ‘Ok smart aleck. I was thinking like a car game. Like I Spy or 20 questions.”

“The I spy would just be ‘I see something grey-answer - the wall’, Mr. Stark.”

“Twenty questions it is. I’ll go first.”

“But you just asked me a question about school and MJ and Ned and decathlon.”

“OK then you can go first.”

“Ok. What’s your favorite food?”

“Really? You can ask Iron Man any twenty questions and you go with food?”

“I’m under duress.”

Tony sighed. “My favorite food is meatballs.”

“You’ve eaten in other countries and your favorite food is meatballs?” Peter asked eyebrows raised.

Tony gave him a small smile. “Well my favorite type of meatball was the kind my mom prepared.”

“Oh” He breathed.

“Yea. I mean I still eat other meatballs, but when I was younger it was my favorite meal by her. She’d make it for me when I came home from school.” Tony sat there lost in the memory for a moment. “Anyway, same question to you.”

“Thai.” Peter said instantly.

“Figures” Tony muttered. The kid ate it at least once a week. “Guilty pleasure music?” He asked. ‘What do you like to listen to that people wouldn’t expect?”

Peter thought for a moment and then said, “I love the eighties.”

“Really?” Tony asked surprised.

“Yea. I like Michael Jackson. Sometimes when I’m training or working out that’s what I’m listening to. You?”

“Well you already know I like rock.”

“Right, I’ve been in your car and your lab.” He chuckled lightly.

“I like classical.” The kid’s eyebrows raised, and Tony laughed. “Again, it’s something I got from my mom. And while rock is what I primarily listen too, sometimes when I need to super focus on a project that’s what I listen too.”

“Maybe I’ll try that when exams come up.” Peter smiled.

“It can be helpful. I did that at MIT.”

“Cool. My turn. Hobby no one knows you have?”

“Hmmm, I should have said this before, but what’s said in here stays in here. We are in Vegas right now.” Tony said.

“Must be some hobby Mr. Stark if you are swearing me to secrecy.”

“Not just a hobby kid. Something only Rhodey and Pepper know. I’m going to trust you with it because you’re my mentee and I think trust is important between us.”

Peter swallowed, “I’ll keep all of it to myself Mr. Stark.” He said solemnly. “You’ll do the same for me?”

Tony nodded, “Of course.” A beat, “I play the piano And I don’t mean I dabble, I mean, I’m really good.”

Peter could tell it was true, because it didn’t have the usual Stark brag he’d heard about. “That’s amazing Mr. Stark.” He said sincerely “I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

“I don’t play for people kid. Pepper and Rhodey haven’t heard me either so don’t think I’m shutting you out. I have a special room in the compound no one knows where and it has a baby grand piano.”

“That’s really cool. I was never that good when I played the trombone.”

“That’s what you played in band? I thought it would be the trumpet or French horn.”

“No, my dad played the trombone when he was in high school and Ben and May still had his instrument in the attic. It worked out because I got to do something close to my dad and we didn’t have to buy an instrument or worse rent one from the school that other kid’s mouths had been on.” Peter shuddered.

Tony took a deep breath, ‘You don’t have to answer this kid, but do you remember much of your parents?”

Peter stared into the distance for a moment. “Not as much as I’d like. Mostly I remember stories from May and Ben and a few people that knew them. I have a couple vague memories or my mom putting me to bed and one of my dad’s putting me in time out. I think I threw a toy at his head when I was four and didn’t get to watch my favorite cartoon.” He smiled, “I love that memory. Not because I got in trouble, but it just reminds me at one time I was just a little kid, doing little kid things, with no worries about parents going away or how to survive a radioactive spider bite.” His voice was a bit choked by the end.

“Sorry, kid,” Mr. Stark said softly,” I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s OK Mr. Stark. No one ever really asks me about them. I mean May and I talk about them some, but really, it’s like people forget I had parents before May and Ben. Sometimes I feel that way too. It feels disloyal to not think about them more. I haven’t even been to the graveside since Ben died.”

Tony reached over and squeezed the kids’ shoulder. “It’s ok Pete. After my parents died, I didn’t visit the grave for years. It was hard.” He swallowed. “Eventually I began to talk about them and that helped and now I try to go once a year.” “There isn’t really anyone that remembers them Mr. Stark. I mean my family is May and she’s not even a blood relative.”

“Ben was related to your dad?” He guessed.

“Brothers,” Peter said. “Ben was the younger one. I was so happy when they took me in. Not because my parents had died, that part sucked, but when I finally got to live with them, things just got so much better and I did have people who knew my parents.”

“What do you mean by ‘when you finally got to live with them?”

Peter moved around getting more comfortable before answering. His head still rested on Tony’s shoulder. “I wasn’t immediately allowed to live with my Aunt and Uncle. Some stupid law about needing my own room and that being more important than a grieving child being with people who loved and wanted him.”

“You were in foster care?” Tony asked for confirmation.

“About four or five months,” he said with a nod. ‘I wasn’t a fan.” He shuttered slightly at the memory.

Tony reached his hand up and ran it through the kids curls for a moment trying to soothe. Then realized what he was doing and tried to stop, but Peter made a small murmur and Tony couldn’t bring himself to stop. Peters breath hitched, and the kid turned his face more into Tony’s shoulder trying to hide the tears that were starting to fall.

“It’s ok underoos.” Tony whispered gently. Peter cried for several minutes, some of his sobs coming out in loud echoing sounds in the room. Tony did his best to comfort and wondered how there was still so much about this kid he didn’t know. Peter eventually sat up swiping the tears from his eyes. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I shouldn’t have asked about your parents. I know it can upset me when others ask me about mine.”

“It’s ok Mr. Stark. I’m glad you asked. It was just a rough time.’ He shrugged. “It sometimes still is.”

Tony nodded. “I get that. My parents died almost 30 years ago, and I still feel that way. You never really stop thinking about them and trust me that’s ok.”

Peter nodded, “May says that and Ben used to say that too.”

“Smart people. Let’s try a lighter question now.”

Peter sniffles still not totally calmed down and said, “If you could be any animal in the world what would you be?”

“Are mythical included?”

“Since you asked, I’m assuming you have one in mind so yes.”

“Unicorn – they are so majestic and the national animal of Scotland.”

“Wow, Mr. Stark.”

The man just smiled at him, “I could also stab people with my horn.” That made Peter laugh, and Tony smiled at his achievement. “You?”

“A dragon. I just think they are amazing, and I could fly and catch things on fire.”

“Solid reasons.” Peter shifted again with a grimace. “How are you doing?”

“Still sore. Better with the medicine but still sore. And it keeps feeling better then I’ll get shooting pains through it which of course feels worse.”

“Mmmhmm. Let me check it out again.” Peter nodded and Tony moved to the other side or him turning his leg slightly. “Ok, this is probably going to hurt for a moment.” Tony said gently.

“Kay.” Peter said bracing himself.

Tony then poked at some of the skin around the glass. Peter swallowed a cry but couldn’t stop the small cry

“Shhh, easy.” Tony said gently. “I know it hurts. I’m almost done.” Peter couldn’t stop the yell when Tony continued poking. When he stopped tears streaked down the kids face and Tony moved around to sit back down next to him and pulled the kid back against his shoulder. He then rested a hand against his forehead. Peter couldn’t help but lean against the man’s hand that was cool and comfortable. “It’s infected kid.” He informed the kid. “You’re running a light fever right now. The skin around the glass is puckered. You might even end of with a scar.” Peter groaned slightly. “Why don’t you lay down and try to rest. It might help.”

Peter shook his head. “Fine here.” He murmured.

“You’ll be more comfortable laying down kid. You can use my leg for a pillow how about that.” He said, remember May mentioning the kids clinging during illness. Peter nodded and flipped around laying down with his head on the man’s lap. Tony rested a hand in his hair, stroking it gently. “Friday?”

“Yes boss?” “Tell Cap that getting us out of here needs to be a priority, the kid has an infection.”

He waited a few minutes till the response came in. “Mr. Rogers has asked me to inform you that they are doing their best to get here, but at this time it will still be another 2-3 hours.”

Peter groaned and shivered, causing Tony to rub his back and say, “It will be OK spider-ling. Rest. Then maybe we can continue our game.”

Peter nodded and closed his eyes again.It was only about ten minutes later when he opened them again.

“You should be resting spider-ling.” Came a voice from above. He felt kind of floaty. “Can’t sleep.”

Tony sighed, ‘Is it the pain?” Mr. Stark could do nothing about that.

“No.” Peter insisted.

Tony shook his head, ““Liar.” Peter gaped at him.

“I’m not lying.”

“Really?” Tony said, “So your leg really doesn’t hurt even though there is an 7-inch piece of glass sticking out of it, 4 inches of which are actually embedded in your leg?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Um, well, I mean, ok, so it does hurt… some.” He clarified when Tony looked satisfied at his answer and then troubled.

“Kid.” Tony was frustrated Peter could tell. The man took a deep breath and said, “As long as we’re stuck down here, we’re going to talk about this. But first let me look at your leg and see if we can make it any better.”

Peter wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk about exactly, but he leaned his head against the wall closing his eyes against the ache, while Tony gently looked to see if he could do anything that he hadn’t been able to do 10 minutes ago.

“Well it’s already elevated. But infection is beginning to set in. It’s pretty red around where the glass is sticking out.”

Peter swallowed hard, “Can you stop describing it please?” He asked.

Tony gave him a tight sympathetic smile. “Sorry kid.” He reached up and Peter startled slightly when his hand landed on his forehead. “Easy,” He murmured. “Just checking for fever.” After a moment, “You’re definitely warmer. We’ll have to watch that.”

“Yea.” Peter said. “So, um, since there isn’t anything we can do, what did you want to talk about.”

Tony sighed, “Sorry Peter. Being stuck down here isn’t helpful and we can’t remove it, you could bleed out.” He said regretfully.

“This is why I didn’t say anything.” Peter said with emphasis, “It’s not worth it, if you can’t do anything.”

Tony felt a stab from that remark. “Maybe I can’t make the pain go away.” He said carefully. He moved over and sat back down next to the kid. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to know if you’re hurting or injured. And it’s not every time that I can’t do something. You’ve been hurt a few times since I’ve started mentoring you and you failed to mention it.” He did his best to not sound accusing the last thing he wanted was an injured super kid pissed at him while they were stuck in a confined space. “Is there a reason for that?”

Peter gave him a sidelong look before looking down where his left-hand picking at an invisible thread on his leg. He shrugged. “I didn’t think it was bad enough to mention.”

Tony looked at him incredulous. “Peter, at least one of those times you had a pretty decent concussion. And while I wasn’t the best mentor when we started this thing, you were on a plane that crashed, and I don’t mean on the inside of it. Not to mention a building fell on you. I will not believe you if you try to tell me you weren’t hurt after the Vulture.”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasn’t too bad. I healed up in a few days.”

He threw his hands up exasperated. “That’s not ok. With your healing powers minor injuries take less than a day, so how bad was it that you took a few days?”

“Some broken ribs, mostly. I think I had a fractured wrist too. Then just bruises and scrapes. Exhaustion.” He shrugged. “I slept like sixteen hours when I got home.”

Tony shook his head. “This is the type of thing you need to come to me with. I have a whole medical staff that deals with superheroes. They treat Steve. They know how to handle advanced healing and they are incredibly discreet. On pain of legal action. And I don’t just mean the police, I’m talking Shield. So, can we agree that no injury is too small, and you’ll come to me in the future?”

Peter looked uncomfortable. “Mr. Stark, I, we…” He took a deep breath, “What I mean to say is…” But he looked away, no longer talking.

“What is it Peter?” Tony asked gently.

Peter tossed his head back hitting it against the wall. Hard enough to hurt, but not do real damage.

“Hey, none of that. You don’t need a concussion on top of everything else. And I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Peter turned his head looking at the man and Tony could see s sheen of tears.

“Oh kid,” He said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Whatever it is, you really can trust me.”

Peter took a deep breath closing his eyes. ‘We can’t afford it.” He stammered out.

Tony stared at him at a loss for about 5 seconds, before he said slowly, trying to wrap his mind around this kids’ innocence, “You think you have to pay for your medical care?”

Peter gave a small nod, a hand coming up to wipe away falling tears.

“Kid,” Mr. Stark said slowly wanting to break the news gently, “None of the other Avengers do.”

Peter swallowed hard, “I’m not,” he took a shaky breath,” You always say I’m not an Avenger yet.” He whispered.

Tony moved his head side to side not believing his own stupidity, “I agree junior Avenger would be more apt, but even if you’re not a full Avenger, you are my protege and that covers medical care. So, you can always,” he said with emphasis while squeezing the kids’ shoulder. “Always come to me for help with medical, or other, issues, but especially medical issues.” Tony leaned back against the wall and gazed down and the kid. “So, this is why you haven’t been telling me when you’re hurt?”

“Mostly,” he hedged. “I mean, Mr. Stark, Aunt May is very proud, and I just think she’d insist on paying. If she knew how badly I got hurt sometimes, she might not want me to be Spiderman at all and I can’t do that and then what if she…” He moved to hit his head against the wall again, but Tony got his hand there first cushioning the blow,

“I said to stop that.” The man said putting sternness into his tone.

“I just… I hate this… Not being Spiderman, but… OK. I’m not old enough to take care of myself even though with Spiderman powers I probably could and instead I have Aunt May who worries about everything. I have decathlon trips and the fact that I lose about 8 backpacks a year and she’s worried about paying for college and me just… I can’t keep making her worry. And now you want me to tell you if I’m hurt and I… I don’t want you to worry about me or… or pay for me. It’s too much and God, what if she kicks me out.” The words were a whisper and Tony was shocked that this was a worry the kid had. May and he seemed so solid. But Peter had flat out lied to her for a year and nearly gotten himself killed a couple times.

Tony moved over and reached out and pulled the kid too him.

Peter stiffened for a sec. “Um. Mr. Stark. I hate to question you, but are you aware that you’re hugging me?”

He chuckled. “Yea kid. I think we’re there. Maybe not every day.” He clarified, “But definitely in situations like this. Now, let’s break this down a bit. Medical care is part of the internship. Think of it like a job with medical benefits. May wouldn’t insist on paying when insurance covered it right?”

“I doubt it.” Peter said skeptically.

“Well then think of it like that and if she asks explain that to her. You really can’t go to a regular doctor anyway, so you really don’t have a choice in where you get your help. And I’m more than happy to provide what you need so you can continue to be Spiderman and that includes me paying for some things for you. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable but I hope with time it will ease and you’ll trust me.”

“I do trust you” Peter insisted.

“Maybe, but money can be a hard topic for anyone. That’s not just you. It’s weird to me because I’m used to having money. Always have been. But I’ve had friends and people I’ve tried to help that didn’t want my money and didn’t think I had good intentions when I offered what I could. It’s hard on both sides of the equations. But I hope you won’t let your discomfort keep you from asking for what you need. I promise to make it as comfortable and easy on you as I can. You know, I could pay you for the internship.”

“It’s not a real internship, Mr. Stark. I’d be Spiderman even without you. I don’t want to get paid for it.”

Tony nodded, “I never wanted to be paid for being Iron Man either. Not that I needed the money, but it felt wrong.”

Peter nodded. “So much for that.”

‘Well there is something else we can do. A few things really.”

“Like what?”

“Well I could give you an actual internship and pay you.”

“I don’t want it to take away from being Spiderman, or from school. Decathlon is starting to pick up more since we won regional s and Flash is…” Peter stopped realizing what he was about to reveal. “Well I just need to work to keep my spot and not end up with more detention. No one wants that.”

Tony nodded. “Ok then an allowance it is.”

“What?” Peter said sitting up, hissing slightly, then “What?”

“I’ll give you an allowance. You can use it on anything you need to and then you don’t have to come to me to ask unless it’s out of the usual. Really, it’s the perfect solution. I’ll just give it to you weekly.”

“You can’t give me an allowance.” He looked aghast.

“Sure, I can. I’m Tony Stark.”

“Yes, you are, but, I’m not your…. I’m not earning it. And it’s something. you give to your kids Mr. Stark, not some random kid that your training to be an avenger.” “Who says?”

“Any sane person.” He practically yelled.

“Peter,” Tony said slowly, “I gave all the avengers an allowance when they lived in the tower.”

“What?” He asked eyes round.

“I said, I gave all the avengers an allowance when we lived at the tower together. Steve didn’t work, neither did the others. We were busy fighting aliens, hydra or training.” “But Captain America worked for Shield and Black Widow and Hawkeye did too,”

“Contrary to popular belief Shield isn’t really a good retirement plan and while most believe, because it was advertised as such, I wasn’t the only one who helped try to put things back together after the Battle of New York. The rest of the Avengers donated too. When they lived in the tower, we just decided it would be easier if there was money given to them regularly like they were employees and that was I wasn’t tied into it and there were no hard feelings. So, we can do the same for you. If it makes you feel better, I can give you chores around the lab to do to earn it?”

Peter sagged a bit in relief. Chores he could handle “I think I would feel better with chores. Just I can’t have it interfere with school and stuff, like I said.”

“We’ll make that part of the condition then. You usually try to finish your school work before you show up anyway, but I know you don’t always get it done until later. I know May has you finish it before patrol, but from now on, you’ll do that first before you’re allowed to work in the lab. Along with any assigned chores.” Tony shook his head, “You are like Cap in a lot of ways. He insisted on doing chores to earn his pay too. Refused to let any Avengers live there without doing their fair share. I think, I just figured since you were younger those rules didn’t work for you.”

“Aunt May gives me chores. She can’t really afford an allowance all the time, but she gives when she can.”

Tony nodded. “So, are we settled on the money issue? We can discuss how much and what chores later. I’ll have something written up that you can sign. I imagine you’ll feel better having it in writing then feeling like some adult can hold it over your head.” Peter nodded. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. And it’s no different I guess then our deal for the Philadelphia trip.” He said still convincing himself this was a good thing.

‘Don’t mention it.” He said with a nod. “But there are some other things from your statement I want to ask about, you know, since we have nothing else to do?”

Peter sighed, “You want to ask why I think she’ll kick me out don’t you.”

“I do.” Tony affirmed.

“I… It’s not anything she does exactly. It’s more that I’m difficult because of spiderman. I once turned her whole life upside down when I was seven. Now again at 15. I was there when Ben died and I’m not sure she resents that a little, her not being there for his last breaths.” His breath hitched a little. “I mean we love each other don’t get me wrong, but she’s never really gotten past his death. And now that she knows I’m Spiderman, I feel like it’s only a matter of time before she realizes I was Spiderman then. And that I could have stopped it.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

Peter shook his head. “It was.” He insisted unable to stop the tears from coming. “We were out that night because of me. I’d been acting up and he was talking to me about that and earlier that day, I’d been out as Spiderman and I stopped a robber, but he was scared, he seemed scared and he asked me to let him go to give him a break to start fresh.” Peter wiped at his eyes, “and I did Mr. Stark. I let him go and,” he took a deep breath, “He killed my uncle.” Peters hands covered his face as he curled in on himself sobbing.

Tony didn’t hesitate to gather the kid in his arms. “Shh, it’s alright. It wasn’t your fault.” He kept saying soothing words till Peter calmed a bit. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You couldn’t have known.” “I have powers.” Peter argued.

“And last I checked it wasn’t mind reading. You could not have known. And even if you could have known, you were new to this, with no proper training. I’m guessing you were scared and in a bit of shock to have someone pull a gun on you. I hope it was the first and only time it happens.”

Peter nodded wiping stray tears away. “The worst part was feeling like I could have saved him and then having to tell May and have her try to comfort me. I decided then I had to be active in helping people and I couldn’t waste time on things like band.” Tony looked at him for a moment and then said. “Peter answer honestly, are you Spiderman because you feel guilty.”

“It may have started that way.” He said softly. My uncles murder pushed me to do this more, but I like to think if he’d lived, I would have found continued anyway.

Tony nodded. “Good, and you need to work on this self-blame. You are not responsible.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes while he absorbed what was said. “Mr. Stark, I know you say it’s not my fault.”

“It’s not.” He emphasized.

“But I still feel like it is. It’s been over a year since his death and I still can’t change how I feel.”

Tony thought for a moment, “Why don’t you try talking to someone. A professional. You have been through plenty in the last few years, it might help.”

Peter shook his head. ‘I can’t talk to them about Spiderman, Mr. Stark. It could put May in danger or me.”

Tony nodded approvingly, “Good looking out for yourself, but this is a Shield psychologist, one I believe you would like as I saw her myself.”

“Really?”

“Yea. The Afghanistan thing and events surrounding it were a bit harder on me then everyone realized. It wasn’t till well after the Mandarin that I decided to try my hand at it. It helped.” “That’s good Mr. Stark, I’ll think about it.”

Tony nodded, and it was silent again. “I believe one of us is to ask a question. So how did you and Ned meet?”

“Oh,” Peter said, “We were in second grade. It was my first day at school after my parents died. He was the only one who asked me to sit with him for lunch and then we both had the same cookies. He had a Star Wars lunch box and I had this old blue one that had belonged to my uncle and he’d used for years. Aunt May said as soon as we could she’d take me out to pick up a “cool” lunch box. But when Ned saw my sad blue lunch box that looked like an adult used it, he promised to bring me his extra one the next day. After everything that had happened recently, I didn’t really know if he would or if it was a trick, but he came in the next day with a red lunch box with iron man on it. His mom agreed I could have it.” He looked over and smiled at Tony, “I still have it. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I stash cash in it when I have extra, and it’s hidden in my room.”

“In the ceiling tiles.’ Tony smirked thinking of the homemade suit.

“No.” Peter protested and hissed when he bumped his leg.

“Let me look at that again, see how it’s doing.”

Peter nodded “No touching. Touching hurts.”

“Got it.” Tony said and pulled the phone for extra light. Then against the kids wishes he very gently touched part of the tender skin. Causing another hiss from Peter.

“I said no touching.”

“It’s how I know what’s going on. The skin is pretty inflamed.” He reached up with one hand and put it to Peter’s forehead.

“Mr. Stark.” He whined.

“I’m just checking for fever and you are definitely hot, so we will need to watch that.” Clicking on his watch he said, “Friday let Cap know that Peter is developing a fever.” A few minutes later the reply came in. “Sorry Tony, we’re going as fast as we can, but we are only a quarter of the way there.’ Tony sighed, ‘Fine but Peter says you owe us pecan ice-cream if it takes more than 4 hours.”

“Ice-cream?” Was the reply. Then a second, “Got it. See you soon.”

Tony nodded. “You too Cap.”

“Can I take more of that Motrin.” Peter asked softly.

Tony checked his watch, “It’s only been two hours.” Peter sighed, and Tony pulled his head onto his shoulder.

“So, you met Ned in second grade, and he gave you an Iron Man lunch box and that sealed your friendship forever?”

“Yea. We have been through some things together and of course he’s one of the few that know of Spiderman and what happened really happened to my Uncle. He also tells me it’s not my fault.

“And he’s right.”

“I’m trying Mr. Stark.”

Tony slipped an arm behind his back. “I know. You want to know how Rhodey and I met?”

Peter nodded against his shoulder.

“Well it was at MIT and I was younger than a lot of students there. I did a lot of stupid stuff when I was there, pranks, hitting on older girls, not showing to class then blowing the curve. Most People there knew my name – Stark. And did their best to schmooze me or get to know me based on that. They just wanted to be a part of the Stark legacy. Rhodey wasn’t like that. We got teamed up on a project to build an engine together. I showed up eating dried banana and blueberries and brought a girl with me. Making out with her in the doorway before I entered – oh and I was 15 minutes late. Rhodey walked right up to me and goes, ‘I don’t care what kind of smart ass kid you are or what your name is, if you show up late again I’ll have the professor take you off the project and maybe you don’t care about that, but I do, because I have things to do and I think having a friend as smart of you could help.”

“I straightened up after that. Well mostly. I appreciated his candor and willingness to tell me he was being friends with me because of what I could do for him.”

“That’s awful.” Peter said.

“’Maybe.” He said with a shrug, “But it was only like that a couple months. Eventually we realized we had more in common than we thought. The next year we roomed together and often we were the two instigating things on campus. It was a great couple of years. Do you think you might want to go to MIT?”

“I think if I can afford community college it will be a minor miracle.”

“I could...”

“No Mr. Stark. You know it’s amazing you have money at all. I only hear you try to give it away,”

“I just want those around me to be comfortable and if I can help with that. I will.”

“I do want to go to college. I’ve been working hard on my grades to get a scholarship.”

“Do you know your class rank?”

“Um, well, I do, but I don’t want to say.”

Tony was already clicking on his phone. “Oh look, there it is, well if I click this button.”

“What, Mr. Stark, You can’t. Please?”

“That bad.”

Peter blushed and shook his head.

“You know I’m proud of you either way, right? If you do your best that’s what matters. That’s true of Spiderman too. There is no need to be hard on yourself.”

Peter dropped his head back onto the wall. Go ahead and look.”

“You sure”

Peter nodded.

“Wow. Seriously.” Tony looked at him mouth agape and Peter didn’t think he’d ever seen him like this.

“You’re number three and not in your class, that you’re number one, but in the school number three. This is fantastic you continue like this and you will get into any place you want to go.’

“I still need the SAT.”

“You will rock it. I can tutor you or get you one and I know enough smart people it won’t cost anything. Hell, Rhodey would be qualified. Come to think of it so would Banner and Widow. Widow might teach you things you shouldn’t know – spy things. So, Banner, Rhodey or I could all help.”

“That would be good. But no matter how well I do, without financial aid I can’t do it, and I don’t want to get bogged down in student loans.”

“Well you could work for me.”

“Is your solution to just hire me for everything? You give me chores for my trip and insurance.” He said jokingly but sounding a little awkward.

“Yes.” Tony said without preamble, “Kid,” He said firmly, “You are truly brilliant. You already know the systems at the compound. I would be able to see you more often and if you go somewhere out of state the deal will start when you graduate. I pay for your school and you come work for me for twice as long afterwards. Takes 4 years you work for 8? You can work more than that, but you must work enough so I get the investment back. Also, non-compete clause no working for the competition.” Peter just stared at him not entirely sure what to say, so settled on, “You really are the best Mr. Stark.” Peter whispered. “without you I would never be doing any of this.”

“Not true. You were Spiderman before I came around.” He said ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Maybe, but not as good.”

Tony shrugged conceding his point. “So, what else do we want to know about each other. We still have plenty of time to kill.

“Have you ever had a pet?” Peter asked. They had talked about a lot, but he still felt he should be careful.

“Not really.” Tony said shuffling a little. “We had horses when I was younger. My mom thought there was prestige to it. Many of the families we had around had them, so she thought we needed them. Howard wanted her to be happy, so he bought two. I was about nine and found the things slightly terrifying because they were big. Once I got on one though I really enjoyed it. So, my father made an excuse to get rid of them a couple weeks later.”

“That’s awful Mr. Stark.” Peter thought for a moment and said, “I won a gold fish at a carnival. I um…” He blushed, “I named him Iron fish – since he was a gold fish and your outfit are red and gold. Anyway, he died after like three hours and I was super sad about it. Aunt May let us have a small funeral that ended with ice cream.”

“Did you name everything after me?”

“No.” Peter said offended. “If I had had a dog it was going to be named Han Solo.”

Tony laughed. “Nice name.”

“We, Ned and I would have called it Han.”

“Well we both got a story there even though you volunteered. But did you ever play sports.”

“Um... no.” He said decisively.” I didn’t do little league things because I was getting over the death of my parents and having to move in with my Aunt and Uncle. By the time I was in middle school I was super awkward and small. I wore glasses. Me and sports never mixed. “

“I was unaware you wore contacts.”

“Contacts?” He looked at Tony confused

“Oh no, the spider bit fixed that. Sort of how I have a six pack and a ton of strength.”

“Wow. Have you been to an optometrist since it happened?

“If I say no - am I going to see one?

“There’s a good chance of that.”

Sigh. “No, I haven’t. Aunt May just thought I decided to not wear them, and I never told her otherwise.”

Tony nodded. “Fair enough. But you will be seeing a shield ophthalmologist."

“What I thought it was an eye doctor.”

“Calm down it is. But a specialized one. I think they will be better for you and I know one personally:

“You seem to know everyone personally.” Peter said sinking back against the man.

“The money helps with that and my utter brilliance”

“How does Pepper put up with you?” Peter said then stiffened. “I mean… um… the pain is making me say things Mr. Stark I didn’t mean that.”

“Chill. I know you’re joking. It’s ok to tease me Peter. We are developing that kind of relationship. It’s part of being a mentor and mentee.”

Peter signed in relief. ‘So, did you ever play any sports?”

“As a kid I didn’t really play sports. Or play at all. My hobbies included robots and science and getting through years of school as quickly as I could. But when I got to MIT Rhodey decided to teach me boxing. Said otherwise with my mouth, smarts and money I’d never survive. I took a real shining too it. Surpassed Rhodey in those skills in the first year of school. We had fun sparring. And after seeing my dad sometimes it was a relief to go pound on something. When my parents died, I felt like I couldn’t box. Howard disapproved of it like he did everything else and why I say I don’t care what he thought for some reason on this point I did. Obadiah ended up talking to me about it. Telling me not to give up on what I love just because of a dead man. I didn’t go back to it right away but eventually I put a ring in the gym. I learned that Happy knew how to box and he’s good. We’ve spent hours down there just hitting each other.” He grinned. “There was this one time when Black Widow came. We didn’t know she was widow at the time, but she came in as a spy for shield pretending to be my secretary. So, she’s dressed in this white top pencil skirt outfit and she climbs in the ring and Happy is trying to be macho and I don’t know what he said but she climbed up him, wrap her legs around his neck and flattened him. Pepper and I sat there stunned. Happy’s pride was hurt for a month afterwards. But we got back in the ring.”

Peter said nothing but appeared to be contemplating something.

“Peter?” Tony asked.

“I, I just don’t understand.”

Tony’s eyebrows raised. “Don’t understand what? How widow took out Happy?”

“No, how you can say anything nice about Obadiah. He betrayed you. Tried to kill you. He nearly succeeded.”

“Nearly kid. That’s the take away. And yea he was a bad guy. The betrayal hurt more than anyone could ever really know. But if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be mentoring you or doing the work as Iron Man.” “I don’t think that’s true Mr. Stark. You are a good person and I think you are Iron man. You would have found yourself here eventually.”

Tony swallowed hard at the belief this kid had in him. “Thanks kid.” He said and ruffled the kid’s hair.

“Your welcome” he said. They were comfortably quiet for the next ten minutes and Peter asked. “Do you think you could teach me to box?”

“You want to learn boxing?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yea,” Peter said shyly.

“Kid your learning martial arts, from military and spy experts. Not to mention self-defense, why on earth would you need to learn boxing?”

“Because, we won’t always be just on Earth. I need to learn all I can.” He said with emphasis. “You can’t shield me all the time Mr. Stark. I know something is coming.”

“Pete,” He laughed it off, “nothing is happening it’s fine.”

“Don’t lie to me Mr. Stark. Please? I’m fifteen not five. You can’t protect me forever.”

“Then let me protect you why I can.” He said firmly. “I haven’t known you for long Peter, but you mean a lot to me. I… I imagine what it would be like if I had a s… a family and I think you would be a part of it.” He cleared his throat, “I’m not a sentimental man. I don’t like to discuss feelings, but well,” He shrugged

Suddenly Peter screeched his head hitting the wall behind him as he then curled towards the injured limb. Tony just managed to grab his hands before he grabbed the glass.

“Peter Stop.” Tony screamed, but Peter was crying rocking back and forth. Tony pushed himself back against the wall parting his legs in a V and pulling Peter back between them, so his back was to his chest and he could wrap him in a bear hug his hands holding Peters. Or trying, he eventually wrestled both Peter hands into one of his and pulled the kid as close to his chest as he could. “Breath kid. I know whatever is happening hurts, but you need to relax. Breath with me. He used the hand he had over the kids’ heart to help exaggerate the breaths he was taking, them both moving as one inhaling and exhaling. “Good job kid.” He said as Peter started to calm. Small whimpers escaped his mouth.

“What happened?” Peter asked.

“Not sure. I can look if you want?”

“No.” Peter said settling against the man. It was comforting, and he was afraid movement would hurt.

“Does it feel like it’s bleeding more?”

“Some.” Peter answered his teeth gritted.

“I’ll need to look Peter but if you don’t think it’s too bad, I’ll give you a few minutes.”

Peter nodded and pulled his good leg up a bit.

“Elevate your foot kid, place it on my leg.”

“But I might cut you.”

“It’s fine the glass is on the side, just be careful.” Peter did as he was told moving slowly.

“It felt like it was being cut all over again Mr. Stark. It hurt really bad.”

“Hmmm, Tony said, but said nothing more.

It was silent for few minutes and Peter said, “How long till they get here?”

Tony checked his watch, then said, ‘Friday where do we stand?”

“They are attempting to clear debris and put supports in place. Captain Rogers asks that you do your best to hang on and they will do their best to move quickly.”

Tony sighed. “Tell him I said he owes us strawberry ice-cream as well.”

“Of course, boss.”

“You don’t like strawberry.” Peter said where he laid against Tony’s chest his eye shut against the pain.

“But you and Cap both do. And Hawkeye pretends he doesn’t, but we all know he does.

Peter smiles and says, “Thanks Mr. Stark.” It was quiet and filled with meaning.

“Get some rest, it will make time go faster.” Peter nodded and closed his eyes Tony sighed as he listened to Peter’s breathing out over the next few minutes. When he was certain the boy was in that place between sleeping and awake, he gently began to play with the kids’ hair. Hoping the comforting gesture would push him over the edge.

Peter slept for the next hour or so. Tony checking him repeatably as he could feel the fever rising.

“Cap,” He said into the watch acting as his com. “We need out of here. I’m 99% sure he has a blood infection and not being able to remove what is causing it is making it worse.”

“They are almost here, Boss. Another hour or two.”

“Another hour or two, it was supposed to be four we’ve been down here for six.” And no water or food for either. “Cap you owe me.”

Tony dropped a hand down into the kid’s hair and Peters eyes fluttered opened. “Mr. Stark.” He slurred.”

“Hey kiddo, how are you feeling?”

Peter turned very pale then and pushed himself around and got sick all over the ground.

Tony winced in sympathy and put a hand on his back gently comforting till Peter stopped.

“Come on” He said putting hands under the kid’s armpits. “We’re going to move away from that.”

Peter nodded and struggled to a further away spot. Tony went looking again and found some hand sanitizer and a couple more blankets. He then let the kid “wash” his hands, took another look at the wound and felt how hot he was getting.

“I have an idea. You won’t like it.” Tony said.

“I like you.” Peter said slurring.

Tony chuckled. “That’s good since we work together. OK, unleash the suit.”

Peter gave him an odd look but did as instructed. Tony then helped him move it down to his waist. “Now lay back”.

“What, why?”

“Because the floor is extremely cold and you are extremely warm, this just might help. Besides you were on the floor earlier.” “I don’t want to.” He whined.

“Peter,” Tony said firmly, “It will help, you’ll feel better.”

“Too cold.”

“That’s the fever talking. You have chills.” Tony then put his hand on the boy’s chest and pushed backwards. He was under no illusion that if Peter was well this wouldn’t work. Peter winced when his back hit the ground and he shivered and tried to push his way back up.

“Nope” Tony said holding him gently in place. “This is for the best.”

“You’re mean.” Peter said suddenly.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I’m mean eh? If I let an infection kill you, that’s mean. This is helping.”

Peter sniffled slightly “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. It’s cold.”

“I know. Just get through fifteen minutes and you can sit up for a bit. You can do 15 minutes, your Spiderman”

Peter smiled but sniffled again before nodded.

Tony tapped his finger on his chin, contemplating. “Hmm” her murmured out loud.

“What is it?” Peter asked.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“I think you know it all by now with the twenty questions.” He said.

“We haven’t finished all twenty so tell me something I don’t know. Please.” He implored.

Peter sighed, shivered and scooched his way to a better position. “I was going to have a sibling.”

“What?” Tony asked surprised, “Your mom or May?”

Peter swallowed hard, the memories still hurt, “May.” He said softly, “I had just turned eleven, it was a few years after foster care, so I was well adjusted in this new family and young enough to not be jealous or annoyed at the thought of free babysitting.” He chuckled lightly, “I remember finding out about the baby. May and Ben were beyond thrilled. Ben walked around touching her stomach all the time. They would just look at each other and grin. This little precious secret between the two of them. I felt a bit left out. Wanted to be included. They sat down with me and talked everything out. That was big with May and Ben, “communication”. After the talk I was less annoyed and more excited that I’d have a little cousin/sibling. They wanted to include me and so I suggested they give him my dad’s name as a middle name, like my dad named me after Ben. Ben and May loved that name and May liked Seth for a first name so Seth Richard Parker. We couldn’t wait for him to arrive, but at around the fifth month something happened. I don’t even know what exactly. Just May was doubled over in the kitchen one minute and the next in a hospital bed and there was no more Seth.” He took a shaky breath. “There wasn’t a funeral. Just May being bed ridden and Ben staying home for a full week with us. They didn’t even send me to school, though I did have to do homework. They, uh, they tried again as soon as she was able. She got pregnant right away, but lost the baby at about 8 weeks in. We were all devastated. This time they gave it more time. A third and final attempt, when I was twelve, and the baby died at seven and a half months. She didn’t want to try anymore after that. She was different that year. Sadder. I wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same. But one day she came out of it. And then Ben happened. I guess when she had no choice she stepped up. After Ben’s funeral, she sat down with me and we talked about how she had been distant that prior year and how she would be now. She said she had been very sad losing Seth and Andrew, the two babies “old” enough to be named, but she knew that she had already been given the best child ever in getting me and she’d do everything to care for me from now on.” Peter gave a brittle smile, “The thing is they always took care of me. But miscarriages happened and Ben,” a sniffle, “Happened. It felt a little like Parker luck rearing its ugly head. Then I got bit by a radioactive spider and while the agility and eight pack are awesome, it’s not a sibling, or an Uncle. It will never bring Ben back.”

Peter almost chocked on his pain then. Tony rested a hand in his hair and stroked it gently. “You didn’t make them lose those babies Peter.” He said quietly, but with firmness. “And you didn’t cause that person to kill your uncle.”

Peter put his arm over his eyes and cried. “I want Ben.” He said a deep ache flowing through him. Words of confession he’d not said since the mugging. “God, I want Ben.” He curled sideways his forehead against Mr. Stark's leg his left hand fisted into his pant leg.

Tony stroked his hair. “I know kid.”

“It’s not fair.” A childish cry, one Peter had thought but usually didn’t bother to utter, because it made no different. But here in this room, racked with fever, the confessions came easier. Tony stroked his hair saying nothing until the kids crying eased down. Peter finally rolled back over on his back his sobs settled. “You ok?” Tony asked

“Yea Mr. Stark.” He said cheeks darkening, “Sorry for crying on you, again”

“Nothing to apologize for kid. You know, something no one knows about me?’ Peter shook his head. “It’s that when I got home from Afghanistan, I wasn’t quite right. And not in the way Obadiah thought, but I needed help. I didn’t get it right away of course, and a lot of what I did people clocked it up to how I always behave outlandishly. But I was really in a dark place. One night I went out onto the balcony and all I could think about was jumping.” Peter’s eyes widened. “I walked to the edge and stood there looking down. I put my hands on the balcony fence and thought about getting up and jumping and what the world would say. How they wouldn’t be able to deny how I felt any longer or what I had been through. Maybe they’d see my father for the abusive as… jerk that he was.”

“What stopped you?”

“You.”

Peters eyes shot up. “Well not you specifically. People like you. I knew the avengers would be needed. I knew in spite of how I felt I would be needed as well. I realized there would also be a whole new generation that needed tech and help. So, I stepped back and went inside. I found Rhodey and told him what I’d just done, and he immediately got me in touch with a Shield psychiatrist. All very discreet.”

“I’m sorry you went through that.” Peter murmured. “That was very brave of you and your secret is safe with me.”

Tony nodded. “Thanks, kid. Just promise me if a day ever comes you feel that dark, you’ll come to me or someone else you trust.”

Peter nodded. “I promise.”

“I believe you. Now let’s see about the fever.” He laid his hand against his head. “Not helping apparently. So, let’s at least try to make you comfortable.”

He rearranged the kid, with Peters help so he was leaned back against his chest leaving the light t shirt the kid wore under the suit between them. “So still awhile on them showing up though should be in an hour or two cap says. Time for a few more questions.”

Peter sighed, but said, “Dogs or Cats?”

“Both.”

“Cheater.”

“Am not it’s fine to like both. You?”

“Dog obviously.”

“How is that obvious? I mean I guess you are loyal and enthusiastic, a bit like a puppy. OK I see it.”

“Mr. Stark.” Peter whined, but he was smiling.

“Chicken or Steak?” Tony asked

“Steak.” They both said together and then grinned.

“Widow or Hulk.” Tony asked.

“Oh.” Peter said, “In a fight or to befriend.”

“Both” Tony said.

“Widow for both.”

“Really thought for sure Hulk had at least one of those.”

Peter shrugged, ‘I am a mystery.” And shifted with a whimper. He started to ask but gasped out loud and tried again to move towards injured leg. Tony grabbed him” Shhh it’s ok almost done, just breath kid, breath.”

It finally let up and Peter laid against him panting.

“That was bad.”

Peter nodded tiredly while tony stroked his hair.

“We will be out of here soon, kid. Any questions you just must ask?”'

Peter looked at him for a long moment then let out a soft sigh. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” He said softly

. “I’m ironman.” Tony joked, “You can’t hurt me.”:

“Just because your Iron Man doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart or that you don’t feel things.”

Tony let out a sigh, “You got me their kid, but I can handle it.”

“It’s a doozy.” He said then winced, hand clutching into Mr. Starks leg. When tony gasped in pain, he immediately moved his hand.

“Shhh,” He soothed, “it’s okay.”

“I hurt you.” Peter said sounding distraught.

“It may bruise but it will be fine. Now ask your question.”

“I really don’t think I should.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, ask.”

His eyes widened, and he mumbled, “Why didn’t you ever have a kid?”

“Oh.” Tony said shocked. He hadn’t expected that.” That is a doozy, but it’s an easier answer then you think.” He took a deep breath, “Before I say why, I want you to agree to never talk to anyone about this unless it’s Rhodey or Pepper.”

Peter nodded, “I can do that.”

“When I was younger Howard, well he wasn’t always nice to me. I felt manipulated a lot and a lot of pressure to do better, be the best. I had no idea what a Dad was, I’m still not sure I grasp the concept. Anyway, I didn’t want to be like Howard so I did everything I could do to prevent it. But nothing permanent, just in case one day I changed my mind. Well Afghanistan took that away from me. The chemicals the arc rector came up with left me unable to have children. Though Pepper has mentioned I could adopt.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry Mr. Stark that is just awful.”

Tony shrugged, “It’s ok kid. I’m at peace with it. And it was nothing like your Aunt went through. Anyway, I didn’t want to put a kid in harm’s way and if I’m going to end up like Howard it’s better for everyone.”

“I think you’d make an excellent dad, Mr. Stark.” Peter said quietly.

Tony smiled, “Thanks kiddo.” He ruffled his hair and they sat in silent contemplation.

It was about ten minutes later when Peter shifted and said, “Mr. Stark?

“Yea kid?

“If the arc reactor made it till you can’t have kids, does that mean the radiation from the spider did the same to me?”

“Oh kid.’ Tony said pulling him close. “I don’t know, but it’s a possibility. We’ll test you if you like?”

Peter bit his lip, “I’m not sure I want to know.”

“I understand, but at any time if you want to know, I’ll make sure you get what you need, discreetly.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter shivered.

Tony knew the shivers were part of the infection and an indicator it was getting worse. Again, tony put his hand to the kid’s forehead and let out a low whistle. “You are blasting heat kid.”

“Cold.” He said shaking his head.

“I know kid, but we still need to cool you off.” So, he repeated the earlier steps this time removing as much of the spider suit as possible and laying him flat on the ground. When Peters whimpers became too much, Tony lay next to the kid and placed his head in the crook of his shoulder, providing comfort but letting the cold floor help reduce the fever, even if only a little bit.

“Kid how about another question? Or even just a story. Hmm? Would you like that.”

The kid shivered and gave a slight nod against shoulder. “Question?”

“Really? A question over a story. You must be delusional.” Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s more distracting then listening.”

“Fair enough.” Tony thought for a moment then said, “What do you want for Christmas.”

“I’m fifteen not five, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughed, “Doesn’t mean you don’t have ideas.”

Peter shrugged. “I’m not big on Christmas. Not anymore.”

“Because Ben is gone?”

Peter nodded. “We didn’t celebrate last year. This year I think we were having take out and watching movies.”

“Hmm.” Tony said, “That’s hardly any way to spend a holiday. You guys could join Pepper and I.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark, but I think May would want to stay in. It’s been hard on her, even if she doesn’t show it.”

“All the more reason to get out. May and Pepper, I think would get along. We could sneak off to the lab.” He said with a smile.

“I’ll have to ask her.”

“Of course. But now back to the question, what do you want for Christmas?”

Peter hesitated then said, “I could use new shoes, another backpack and some school supplies”

“That’s all stuff you need kid. Which you will get, but what do you want?” He said with emphasis.

Peter sighed then said, “If I could have anything, it would be a PS4 and some games. Ned is into gaming and there are ways to play games together but not in the same location. I think I’d like that. Everyone at school seems to have one.” Tony nodded taking notes as he asked about games and Peter talked about the new ones and how much he wanted to play something called Fortnight.

“How about you Mr. Stark?” Peter finally asked. “What do you want for Christmas?”

Tony smiled, “Time with family and friends. A good meal maybe watch some movies or play games. The things I’m not used to doing but are good for the soul I guess.”

‘That sounds nice Mr. Stark.” Peter slurred slightly and began to whimper.

‘Shhh,” he hushed him, “It’s alright it will pass.”

Peter was hanging onto him tightly again.

When this episode was over, Peter laid against him panting. Tony brushed sweaty hair off his forehead. “You’re doing so well kid. They will be here soon, I promise.”

Tony called again to Cap and was told less than an hour. Which was good, the kid needed medical attention now. Friday could tell the infection was almost through his whole blood stream. Tony did his best too shush and soothe all while stroking the kid’s hair. It seemed to help. But Tony knew more distraction might help too, so he said, “I know we haven’t known each other long, but you’ve made a big impact on my life. I want you to know that if you ever need anything, food, clothing, money, any of it. I’ll be there for you.”

Peter remembered the first time Mr. Stark had said something like that too him. A promise. It hadn’t been quite like things were now, under duress.

Peter took a deep breath before entering the lab. It had only been about three weeks since the problem with the vulture and it was his third time meeting up with Mr. Stark for lab time.

“Hi Mr. Stark.” He said quietly, knowing the man would be in the middle of stuff.

“Hey Underoos? How was school today?” the man didn’t bother to look up. He had a pair of high-tech goggles that allowed him to see the smallest of parts and was working on an Iron Man mask.

“Um, well, um.” Peter didn’t know what to say. His day had sucked but telling his amazing superhero mentor that seemed like a bad idea. “It was fine.” He cringed as that came out and hoped Mr. Stark didn’t notice the “Fine”.

No such luck when the man turned towards him. “Fine?” he asked eye brow raised. Peter nodded since Mr. Stark could see it.

Tony’s head tilted, so Peter could tell he saw the bruise.

Tony immediately pointed to the floor in front of him and Peter stood frozen for a moment till Mr. Stark said, “Front and center spider-ling.”

Peter swallowed hard and went to the intended spot.

Tony reached back and took a cold pack from U. “Put this on, then explain how you got it. And don’t lie and say patrol because anything that size with a good night’s rest would be gone by now.”

“I wasn’t going to lie.” Peter said softly as he placed the cold pack on his eye.

“You’ve had a habit of it.” Tony said with brutal honesty.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” Peter protested.

“Lying to me is never the right thing kid. I know I haven’t done too well in the past, but I’m committed now.” He said taking the eye wear off and setting the tool he had in his left hand and setting it on the table by the mask. “So fresh start. No more lies from you and when you call, I answer or Happy if I’m busy. But you’ll always have back up from now on. We are in this together and I’m committed to seeing you become the hero I know you can be. I imagine one day you’ll be the leader of the next generation of Avengers. We’re not there yet. But this is the starting place. This is when you decide that you accept my help and be honest about what you need and what is happening, so I can assist you. If you can’t do that, you’re wasting both of our times.”

Peter swallowed and took a deep breath, “It’s this kid named Flash.” Tony’s eyebrow raised. “I don’t feel like I should act differently just because I have the powers and I want that to be a secret. If anything happened to Aunt May…” Peter trailed off and sniffed slightly. “Any way he got some of his as… jerk friends to try to start a food fight by throwing food. Only I was the only target and an apple hit me in the side of the head. It is better than it was.”

“Some kid threw food at you?” Tony asked astonished.

“Please don’t make fun of me.” Peter said closing his eyes against what he thought would be censure for not defending himself.

“Oh, kid, no. I don’t make fun of you because some jerk of a kid decided to attack you.” He stepped forward taking the pack setting it on the counter and then beginning to inspect the bruise. “I don’t make fun of you at all. I understand why you didn’t retaliate, and you have far more patience then me. When Afghanistan happened, I took out bad guys in a small village, nearly got myself shot out of the sky, if it wasn’t for Rhodey. If this continues you tell me, OK?” Peter nodded. “OK we have work today. I’m working on a newer mask for you one that is more breathable.”

“It’s already pretty breathable.”

“This one is to try to make it breathable underwater. Even if only for short periods of time.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“It is amazing – so let’s get started.”

And that had been the first time Peter had heard Mr. Stark promised to be here for him.

“Hey Underoos you with me?” His face was being tapped lightly.

“Hurts.” He murmured. Embarrassed and achy he buried his head into the man’s chest.

“I know Kiddo, but things are looking up. Cap said less then an hour.”

“Too long.” The child slurred. “Want now.”

“Hmm apparently you just need a fever to announce what you need.”

“What?” Peter said feeling like he should feel insulted but couldn’t place it.

“Nothing kid. They will be here soon.”

“Final question, kiddo, why Karen?”

Peter looked at him a bit dazed. “Karen?”

“Your AI, you named her Karen.”

“Oh,” Peter said slowly. Then he looked a bit sheepish, “It’s a bit stupid, but I named her after my mum. Her middle name was Karen. I just know she always wanted to watch out for me, and so did the AI.” “That’s not stupid kid “Tony said running a hand gently across the boy’s forearm. “I’m sure your mom is very proud of the name.”

Peter gave a watery smile and then leaned further against Tony Letting his eyes slide closed.

They opened to a loud raucous and Hawkeye shouting.

“Down here.” Mr. Stark yelled up.

Cap cut a hole and then dropped down into the middle of the floor. One look at the kid and he yelled up “Hawk, we need to move quick, Spiderman is very ill”.

“I told you it was urgent, and he was getting worse. Is worse.”

“I know,” Steve said, “Ice cream - chocolate, I know the codes. It’s been a while since we used them. A little surprised you used them honestly.”

Tony shrugged. They didn’t normally use this system. It was meant to keep the injured unaware of how badly things were progressing, so normally children and civilians. In this case Peter knew he was injured and that it was progressing, but Tony had wanted to protect him, even if just in this small way. The infection was bad moving into life threatening by now. “He’s fifteen.” Was all he said in response.

Steve who had met Peter as a civilian seemed to understand so he nodded and said, “You want to take him out or should I?”

“You, the alien tech messes with my suit, I’m surprised Friday worked.”

Steve nodded and reached out to a whimpering Peter gathering the kid in his arms. “Let’s go.”

He handed Peter up to Hawkeye who pulled an almost unconscious Peter out and up to the roof. Steve gave Peter a boost up and then jumped and grabbed the edges himself. Once back up Steve started to take Peter, but Tony shook his head and pulled the kid to himself. Peter curled towards him fisting a hand in his shirt. Tony soothed him till he settled.

Steve cleared his throat. ‘We should go.”

“Right.” Tony said, and they headed out of the building.

Once on the ship they moved Peter to the clinic area. Bruce was waiting with supplies.

“He going to have problems since it was alien tech? “

“Probably not. We didn’t find anything wonky in what we found.” Bruce said.

“Good then.” Tony said.

“I need to remove this but first I’m going to knock him out.” Bruce continued. Tony nodded and leaned over and explained to a feverish Peter what the situation was. But he was too out of it. Bruce hooked up some antibiotics and saline then knocked the kid out.

Peter faded in an out for a while, after the initial knock out. He heard voices and tried to call out to the people around him, but no one came. Parker luck he thought.

“What’s that spider-ling? Came a soft soothing voice, and hands that wrapped around his hand.

“Said out loud, thought said silent. Parker Luck.”

“Parker luck makes you say things you don’t mean?” Tony asked confused.

“No, it makes bad things happen.”

“So, you think by being a Parker your bad luck”? Peter nodded solemnly.“When you’re better we will discuss that. Because that is not true.”

Peter shook his head, “Is too.” He muttered childishly.

“That’s not a sound argument,” The man pulled the blankets up over him, that he’d kicked off.

‘Now rest. You’re still fighting off infection.”

“Stay?” he asked simply. “Of course.” His eyes closed, and sleep came almost instantly.

It was hours later, Tony standing at the doorway to the hospital bed. They had been back at the facility for a few hours and May was already here making a fuss over her nephew. Tony had gotten an earful for him getting hurt, not that it was his fault, not that either of them didn’t blame himself.

“How are you doing?” He asked walking it.

Peter looked up his eyes glossy. “Heya Mr. Stark.” He greeted enthusiastically.

“Well I see someone has found the morphine drip.”

“See,” Peter said holding it up proudly “You just click, and good things happen.” He murmured.

“I think you’ve had enough, he said walking around the bed and removing the pump from his hand. Peter grabbed his hand and then held it up and ran his cheek over it. “Soft Tony, warm Tony, Iron ball of fur,” he sang softly still petting himself. Tony chuckled, “You are lucky I don’t allow any recording devices in these rooms.”

“A shame really.” May chuckled, ‘He’d do anything we ask for a very long time.”

Tony grinned, “Well I practically have an idyllic memory. I’m sure the details I know would do wonders.”

May laughed the sound light, “Sorry for yelling earlier. I was just worried.” Peter now was playing with a small ball shaped item that he’s procured from May’s purse, completely distracted. “it’s understandable.”

“Maybe, but I know how much you mean to him and how much he looks up to you.”

“See, I have to look up.” Peter said face turning to Tony’s with a wide grin. “Looking up at Tony.”

“Finally get you to start calling me Tony – requires one serious infection and a morphine drip.

” “It’s the blood loss.” Peter pipped in.

“You didn’t lose that much, you called me Tony now you’re stuck with it.”

“Mr. Stark.” Peter sing songed. “Soft Mr. Stark, warm Mr. Stark…”

“Nope, won’t answer to that, not anymore”

“Hmm, I’m tired.”

“Then rest Underoos.”

May raised an eyebrow.

“I like nicknames.” Tony said. When her eyebrow went up, he said, “For other people.”

“Ah. I wonder if that’s why he calls you Mr. Stark.” May said, “It’s his nickname for you. And it annoys you so double win for him.”

“Hmmm I believe he is that clever, but he’s too consistent to be a joke.”

“You’re just Mr. Stark.” Peter mumbled from the bed nearly asleep.

“It’s OK whatever you call me Peter. Just curious why it’s Mr. Stark and not Tony.”

Peter rolled onto his side, so he could look up at him. “it’s lots of reasons honestly. I respect you. You’re my mentor. Calling you Tony feels too personal. Not that we don’t get along, just what if something happened to you. Mr. Stark is safer.” And Tony knew this was the most honest answer he would ever get from the kid on this.

“Thanks, Underoos, but feel good sleepy time is here.” He gave a gentle push to the morphine drip and then smoothed the blankets over the kid.

May and he headed out as soon as he was asleep. “You have a way with him Tony. One I haven’t seen him let be filled since Ben.”

Tony shrugged, “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t do that Tony. That kid loves you or wants to but is scared to let it be true. Today might help get him to really let himself care about you, as well, a father figure.” “Whoa, May, I’m no dad. Howard was a jerk. He…. Well he wasn’t a dad. I can be his mentor, but I can’t parent him.”

“You already are. You give him advise, punish him when he’s doing something stupid or at least threaten too, and you care about him.”

Tony wanted to protest but he did do all those things. “Right.” He said a little chocked up at the idea. “It’s a little scary how alike the kid and I are. I just can’t imagine this is a good idea” “Welcome to my world.” May said with a laugh. “But you discover more and more ways to love him as it continues.”

Tony nodded. “You are staying the night.”

May nodded. “He doesn’t like to be alone like this and probably shouldn’t be. Even with all your oversight.”

“Oh, I meant what I said earlier no recording devices allowed.”

“That’s smart. But means even more that one of us should stay with him. And since you’ve had enough shocks for a day, it will be me.”

Tony nodded, “Thanks. Have a good night and if you need anything, absolutely anything, just push the buzzer.”

“Thanks Tony, Rest well.”

Tony nodded and then headed for his lab.

When he came to Peter’s room the next day the kid was in jeans and a funny pun t- shirt. “Hey Crocket, how are you feeling?”

“I can’t be Crocket I didn’t do anything dangerous.”

“You went into a building that was half blown up, so I’m going to have to say your wrong.”

“Technicality.” Peter said with a smile.

“Seriously though, how are you feeling?”

Peter took a moment to assess then said, “I’m doing much better. The doctor said the infection is almost gone. Between modern or a little further then modern medicine and healing patterns I’m good to go. May went to pull the car around. I was going to come see you before I left, but you were here.”

“Well I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Tony took a deep breath, put his hands in his pocket and rocked a little on his feet. ‘All that stuff we said yesterday, it’s safe with me kid. You can trust me, with injuries, money trouble, school issues, hell even girl issues. I just want you to be aware that whenever you need something, I’m one of your people.”

Peter looked at him a slightly teary look, “Is that so?”

“Yep.” He popped the P.

“Ok then,” He said, then half his lip curled into a half smile, “Tony.”

Tony smiled back. “You’re going to be held to this new standard kid.”

“I know, Tony.” He said emphasizing his name. He grabbed his bag. “Well I need to meet May.”

“Yea. We meet again on Saturday. stay out of trouble.”

Peter nodded and hurried off.

Tony rocked again on his feet as he watched the kid leave. Maybe with the right kid, he really could be more than a mentor and perhaps even a dad. He smiled to himself then headed off to find the other Avengers.

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