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meltingheartsandcores · 3 years ago

Note

Yoooo your new fic is so cool!! How will lwj react to finding out about his daughter?

So, when I wrote the story, I had no idea, hence why I ended it there. But I was thinking on how to answer this last night, and ended up writing an entire second chapter at like one am. And then editted it through my Bio lecture (which was not my best idea but it’s just a kahoot quiz rn so not that bad of idea) but also means it’s lightly editted at best, sorry.

Oh and for Daiyu’s characters, I’ve lost the file that initially had them, but I’m like 80% sure they were 黛玉 which should be Dark Jade if I’m not wrong.

Anyways, hope you enjoy the story, I’ve put this under a read more because it’s long, lol.

Lan Wangji was not happy when Lan Xichen revealed that they did not know where Wei Wuxian was. Nie Mingjue was not happy with Lan Wangji pouting, so Lan Xichen had to stop several attempts of just telling Lan Wangji the school they had picked the kids up at yesterday and the park.

Just because they found out about Daiyu that way, does not mean Wangji has to. In Lan Xichen’s opinion at least. Truly it was up to Wei Wuxian.

So, while Nie Mingjue was cooking breakfast, Lan Xichen texts Wei Wuxian a very simple;

Wangji is here. Would you like to see him?

The question feels a little ridiculous to ask, after all they had just cleared up a major misunderstanding, the only reason Lan Xichen was aware of that they broke up, why wouldn’t Wei Wuxian want to see Lan Wangji? Then again, it has been five years. While Wei Wuxian asked after Lan Wangji’s relationship status, he gave nothing of his own. Aside from the fact that he was living with Wen Qing.

Who, to Lan Xichen’s knowledge, Wei Wuxian hadn’t been all that close to before they had broken up. And considering he was told the Wens moved away from the city barely a week after Wei Wuxian left the Jiangs, there wasn’t much time for him to get so attached to move across the country with them.

So, while waiting for Wei Wuxian to text back, Lan Xichen did his best to distract Lan Wangji. Except, Lan Wangji was not having it.

“Xiongzhang,” Oh that tone was not good. “If Wei Ying does not wish to see me, just tell me.” Lan Wangji asks, sounding serious but looking, to Lan Xichen at least, like if he did as asked he would be breaking Lan Wangji’s heart.

“I’m sure Wei Wuxian wishes to see you. The problem is, is that this is now rather fresh for him. And there are some things he’s told me that make me concerned to just, point you in his vague direction.” Lan Xichen explains since, yes, it was odd for him to be restraining Lan Wangji. In their teenage years Lan Xichen all but pushed Lan Wangji to hang out with Wei Wuxian. And sometimes he did, actually physically push Lan Wangji to hang out with Wei Wuxian.

“He disappeared five years ago without a word.” Lan Wangji states, reminding himself of that oddity before asking, “What happened?”

And the conversation Lan Xichen did not want to have. “After he left the Jiang family, he came to the house to spend the night as he hadn’t expected to be kicked out so soon. You were out with me,” Lan Wangji nods, remembering the night he very much did not want to spend out of the house, “so Uncle answered the door. He told Wei Wuxian you wanted nothing to do with him, and to never contact the Lan family again.” Lan Xichen admits, wincing when Lan Wangji’s eyes go coldly furious. “Of course, this is only what Wei Wuxian has told me, I have not had the chance to hear what Uncle has to say on this.” Lan Xichen reminds, but it didn’t matter. Lan Wangji cared about what Wei Wuxian heard, not what their Uncle meant all those years ago. It does, at this point, seem more important. Even if Uncle hadn’t said so in so many words, it did result in Wei Wuxian disappearing for five years with Lan Wangji’s daughter.

“You should speak to him.” Lan Wangji states coldly, clearing meaning for Lan Xichen to get an explanation that does not result in Lan Wangji dropping contact with all of them and moving in with Wei Wuxian.

Lan Xichen’s not entirely sure that’s not going to happen anyways, considering Daiyu.

Thankfully, Lan Xichen’s phone goes off with an alert, and he’s relieved to see Wei Wuxian texted him back, and the message also relieves, a little.

What the fuck. How the fuck did he get here. I’m not kidding, the trains don’t run overnight here, it’s literally impossible for him to be here. What the fuck. Oh, but, send him to the Starbucks. There’s literally only one in the town so. I’ll meet him there at 10

The idea of going to Starbucks makes Lan Xichen want to send Wangji to the park, but he ignores it and instead repeats the place and time, and Lan Wangji immediately gets on his phone to get a cab to the city. Lan Xichen could offer to drive Lan Wangji himself, or even their car, but he wants some time with Nie Mingjue. And he wants their car at their place tomorrow morning, which if all goes well, Lan Wangji will not be returning to the cabin.

So he lets Lan Wangji leave in a cab.

Lan Wangji will admit his actions the previous night were illogical. And rude. First he hung up on his brother, then he ran out on his Uncle without a word (although considering what Lan Xichen told him, he doesn’t feel bad about it anymore) and paid a lot of money to be taken to the rather remote town Wei Wuxian had decided to live in. But now that he knows where Wei Wuxian was, how close he was, he was more than eager. He had been looking for Wei Wuxian for the past five years, never with any success. He had never been sure what had caused Wei Wuxian to leave without a word before, always thought to the weeks previous for anything he’d done. Now that he knows the truth...

He wishes he never agreed to go out with Lan Xichen that night.

But he cannot change the past. All he can do is cherish and love Wei Wuxian now.

Even if that means going to Starbucks.

Lan Wangji pays the cab and walks up to the Starbucks. He can’t help the face he makes, the places are always too loud for him, and it’s a show of excess that makes him twitch. Wei Wuxian always liked them, so he always made an effort to at least tolerate the places, but he couldn’t help the cringe.

Of course, the cringe drops from his face as he hears a familiar bark of laughter, snapping his head to the side to see Wei Wuxian. Looking the same as ever. No. Not the same. Older. More lines, more age, but no less beautiful. With a bling bright smile, “What’s with Lans and Starbucks?” Wei Wuxian asks laughing.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji whispers, before processing the question and answering, “You know our principles, do you not think it’s the opposite of everything we value?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs, tilting his head to the side, “I guess. Counterpoint, their Frappuccino’s are delicious.”

“Excessive amounts of sugar.” Lan Wangji counters, feeling sixteen again and like lecturing Wei Wuxian on what those drinks will do to his health.

“Hey, some sugar is good. Besides, I don’t think I ever got you to try their Matcha Frapp.” Wei Wuxian says, grabbing Lan Wangji’s arm and dragging him into the Starbucks.

“Why.”

“Why not?” There was the smile again, bright and beautiful.

And Lan Wangji couldn’t argue. This Starbucks was quieter, than the ones Wei Wuxian would drag him to years ago, Wei Wuxian orders quickly for them both, and Lan Wangji did nothing but stare.

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, what’s with the staring?” Wei Wuxian asks after noticing while waiting for their drinks, an amused smile gracing his lips.

Lan Wangji debates his answer, he could say many things, most would probably make Wei Wuxian blush, but in the end he decides on, “Worried Wei Ying will disappear again.”

Wei Wuxian huffs a laugh, “Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying shakes his head, and then his smile drops, which makes Lan Wangji furrow his brow, “So, how much did Lan Xichen tell you?”

“He told me you were here. And what Uncle said. Which was untrue.” Lan Wangji states, not sure what else there was to say. Perhaps how Wei Wuxian chose this place?

Wei Wuxian chuckles, “Yeah, Lan Xichen made that clear yesterday.” Wei Wuxian scratches his nose three times, clearly thinking about something, considering his next actions. Normally it would predate a prank, but Lan Wangji has the distinct feeling Wei Wuxian is not going to be pulling pranks right now. “So, he just said that?” Lan Wangji nods, becoming confused. “Let’s wait for our drinks.” Wei Wuxian decides, confusing Lan Wangji further, but all he does is nod. For now, he’s fine with Wei Wuxian setting the pace.

When they get their drinks and sit down, Lan Wangji eyes his green frapp with contention, only taking a sip when prompted by Wei Wuxian. It wasn’t, terrible. He still didn’t like it. But it was better than the other frapps Wei Wuxian has had him try over the years.

He still didn’t drink more beyond that sip.

Wei Wuxian sighs and sips at his drink a little, before setting it aside, “Well, I suppose I can’t do this the same way I did it with Lan Xichen and Dage.” Lan Wangji furrows his brow slightly, becoming confused once more. “Not unless you’re willing to wait five hours.” Lan Wangji shakes his head, he was not in the mood to be waiting today. Not for long. He’s finally seeing Wei Wuxian again. Wei Wuxian nods, “Didn’t think so. Uh, so. How to say this...”

“You say what you are thinking.” Lan Wangji states, almost on reflex, having said it to Wei Wuxian so many times when they were together, when Wei Wuxian was having trouble putting words to his thoughts.

“I’m thinking how to tell you I was pregnant without breaking your brain.” Wei Wuxian retorts, clearly on reflex, as he always would when Lan Wangji would make that remark. Normally it allowed for Lan Wangji to assist in phrasing, as while Wei Wuxian was better at conversational talking than Lan Wangji, he also typically just trailed off and made half sentences he expected the people around him to understand. While Lan Wangji would consider his words until he knew exactly what he was going to say. Making it easier sometimes, for Lan Wangji to assist.

This time however.

Lan Wangji blinks.

Once.

Pregnant.

Twice.

Pregnant

Thrice.

‘Wei Ying was pregnant when he left.’

Four times.

“And I broke you, shit.” Lan Wangji was not truly paying attention to Wei Wuxian, he should be. Now more than ever. But he can’t.

‘Wei Ying and I had a child.’

‘Wei Ying and I have a child’

No. Maybe not. Wei Wuxian could've- “Did you keep it?” Legally, Wei Wuxian wouldn't have been able to abort without Lan Wangji's permission. But then, legality has never been a concern to Wei Wuxian for all Lan Wangji has known him.

Wei Wuxian blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Uh, yeah. Her name is Daiyu, she’s four. Turning five. In a couple of months actually.”

“Daiyu.” Lan Wangji repeats, nodding, it’s a nice name. She’s four. “May I meet her?” Did Wei Wuxian want him in her life? Did he want Lan Wangji in his? Maybe he met someone else? Maybe what Uncle said stuck with him hard enough that he doesn’t want anything to do with Lan Wangji anymore.

“Well. She’s at school. Well, not school. Qing-jie said she could start next year if she really wants to, but four is too young.” Wei Wuxian shrugs, “I didn’t start school til I was nine so, I don’t really have an opinion. Or, I don’t get one.” That felt wrong. But Lan Wangji has not being helping Wei Wuxian, so, he also does not get an opinion. He thinks. “But there are these activities that go on at the school. From eight to eleven, and then from twelve to three. Technically she’s too young for those too, but the organizer is scared of Qing-jie, so, she’s allowed.” Wei Wuxian nods, “Our daughter is terrifyingly smart Lan Zhan. She might take over the world.”

“She will deserve it.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, “You cannot endorse your daughter taking over the world.”

“If she can do it, why shouldn’t she?”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth moves, clearly intent on saying something but nothing comes out but a bark of laughter, “Holy shit. Wen Qing is never going to believe me being the sane parent. What the fuck.”

Ah, too much? He does have four years to make up for. Besides, why shouldn’t he support their daughters business ventures? Or would this be politics? Ah, it would be politics. In that case, “Not until she is at least fourteen.”

“...You’re so going to be the soft parent.” Was Wei Wuxian’s only comment. Then he checks his phone and stands up, “We should start walking over to the school. You can meet Daiyu, and we’ll see if she took our conversation last night to heart.”

Lan Wangji furrows his brow slightly at that, standing as well. Did, Did Daiyu not have a high opinion of him? No, of course she wouldn’t. No matter what Wei Wuxian said, he has been absent. Wei Wuxian chucks both their drinks, which seems like a horrible waste but Lan Wangji was not about to suggest he actually finish that drink, so he follows Wei Wuxian out without comment.

“Does she not like me?” Lan Wangji asks as Wei Wuxian leads them to the school.

Wei Wuxian hums, “It’s not that. It’s just, ok, for the past five years, it’s been the general belief that you essentially had your Uncle break up with me for you in like, the shittiest way. So, in general the Wens aren’t the Lans biggest fans. After Lan Xichen explained what actually happened, the adults are all coming around. Daiyu seemed to be also, but it might still take a while. I mean, yesterday she thought you wanted nothing to do with her.”

“Incorrect.” Lan Wangji would never not want anything to do with his child. He only wishes he had known about her sooner.

Wei Wuxian snorts, “Yeah, explained it to her last night. We shall see if she remains unconvinced.”

He hopes not. He would like to meet her. He would like to help raise her. He should move out here. “If Daiyu is amicable, how do you feel about me moving out here?” He should ask. It might be overstepping. They did break up five years ago, technically.

Wei Wuxian blinks, clearly surprised, “Ah, to spend time with Daiyu? I don’t know how your uncle would feel if you moved out here, maybe you could use the Nie’s cabin every few weeks, for visitation? That way you could still work, and meet people.”

Why would Lan Wangji want to meet people? He hates people. Wait. Lan Wangji considers the words, coming to the conclusion that it was a euphemism. But for- Oh. Ew. “No people. Only Wei Ying.”

Now Wei Wuxian was surprised and confused, and he chuckles awkwardly, “Lan Zhan, it’s been five years.”

“It’s only ever been Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji affirms, then, softer, “If Wei Ying no longer wishes for a relationship...” it would hurt, but he would get over it.

(He would not. He would spend his decades with the bunnies Wei Wuxian got him writing sappy love songs. As he’s been doing for five years. Although, in those decades, he might actually relent to Nie Huaisang’s plans of recording and selling those songs.)

Thankfully Wei Ying shakes his head, “Ah no! That’s not-” Wei Ying nods, and steals Lan Wangji’s wording, “Only Lan Zhan.”

It makes Lan Zhan smile softly, entirely entranced by Wei Wuxian, entirely in love with the man in front of him.

When they arrive at the school, there are children running about the front area on the grass. “Oh, they must’ve let out early. We still have ten minutes.” Wei Wuxian comments idly. Lan Wangji was curious as to what he planned for them to do for ten minutes, but that was moot now. Instead, Wei Wuxian was scanning the yard, presumably for Wei Daiyu. Eventually he seems to find her since he makes several ‘come over’ motions.

Soon enough a small child barrels into Wei Wuxian’s legs. “Oof. Nice to see you again too.” Wei Wuxian jokes, smiling down at their daughter.

Daiyu doesn’t look at Wei Wuxian, instead, still clinging to Wei Wuxian’s leg, she turns her head slightly to look at Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji’s breath catches in his throat, she had Wei Wuxian’s nose and chin. He crouches down to be on her level. “I am Lan Wangji, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Wei Daiyu.”

Wei Wuxian snorts, “You don’t need to be formal with your own daughter Lan Zhan. A-Yu,” Wei Wuxian puts a hand on Daiyu’s back, making the young girl look up at him, “this is your A-Die.”

Daiyu returns her gaze to Lan Wangji, “Why are you here now?”

“I was told where you were.” Lan Wangji states truthfully.

“How come you didn’t look for us?” Daiyu demands.

“I did.” Lan Wangji admits, making Wei Wuxian stop, blinking in shock, “But your A-Niang is very good at disappearing.”

Daiyu seemed to consider before nodding, accepting that answer, “Are you staying?”

“If you’ll let me. If you want me here, I will be here for you, for the rest of my life.” Lan Wangji promises.

Lan Wangji worries, for a moment, that they were the wrong words as tears well up in Daiyu’s eyes, but then she was in his arms, burying her face in his shirt, soaking it with tears and snot- not that Lan Wangji minded- telling him he was never allowed to leave. Lan Wangji wraps his arms around his daughter, holding her close with a soft smile on his face.

So, they were the right words.

Lan Wangji smiles up at Wei Wuxian, who seemed utterly relieved and happy, just smiling softly at the pair, Lan Wangji knows he still irrevocably in love with Wei Wuxian, and seeing him like this makes him confident that Wei Wuxian still loves him. With that, Lan Wangji knows with absolution, that he's moving out here.

Whether he tells anyone is still up for debate.

#Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian #LWJ #wwx #my writing #Lan Xichen #Five Year Misunderstanding #cql #the untamed #also i learnt that kids start school at six/seven in china #so Daiyu has activities at the school\#and wwx wanted lwj to meet ayuan hence the wait until school was actually done #if Daiyus characters are wrong or something else is wrong pls tell me #I literally wrote this in an hour last night and have barely editted it #but also wanted to post it because I won't until next week if i don't now

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maverickcalf · 3 years ago

Note

“just tell why you did it!” “because i’m in love with you! i have been forever.” For goose/carole

prompts — cliché edition

Yoooo, love me some Carole and Goose. Let’s do some romance!

"just tell me why you did it!"

"Because I'm in love with you! I have been forever."

Carole had a rough week, she had to deal with drunk sports fans at her job, then the her car was smashed in the diner employee parking lot by the sports fans of the other team, and she didn't have the money to fix it.

Plus on top of not having a car now and having to wait for the bus then walking home, which was a good two miles from the stop; of course, it was raining. Carole sighed, “Just the way it goes sometimes.”

What she didn't expect was her friend and regular to be waiting outside in the rain right outside the employee door in their parking lot. Mostly because they had a fight. She needed a ride, and he agreed but then canceled at the last minute.

He had said he was busy but that wasn't true, he had nothing to do; He had been coming in every day, every day he was home on leave. But suddenly she needed him and he wasn't there for her...

And yet here was Goose Bradshaw leaning against a sky blue car. That wasn't Goose's Car, she knew what Goose drove, a truck, nothing that looked this good.

"Goose?"

"Hey." Goose said, smiling softly. "Sorry about yesterday. I needed time." The rain didn't seem to be bothering him at all, he didn't even have an umbrella.

"Is that a new car?" She asked not exiting into the rain but opting to stand in the doorway. "What happened to your truck?"

Goose shrugged, "Nothing."

"Nothing? Then why did you get a new car?"

Goose glanced back at the car he was leaning on, suddenly looking nervous, "Well…"

"You are telling me, that you couldn't drive me home yesterday, because you were buying yourself a new car, that you didn't need-!" Carole could feel her cheeks heat up. The nerve of this man.

"It's yours." Goose said loudly, both to stop Carole's rage and to speak over the now pouring rain.

"What?" Carole stopped, looking at the keys Goose was now holding out the keys in front of him.

"I got you a car! It has a few thousand miles on it, but it could still be good." Carole just stared in disbelief, allowing Goose to ramble on loudly over the rain. "I get you are probably pretty mad at me. I just thought this would be easier for you, since I am not gonna be around to give you rides in a few weeks. But probably should've told you, I just thought a surprise would be nice. You work so hard and didn't deserve to have to walk home and…"

He stared into her eyes, then looked away, turning his head so fast that the rain whipped off him. At this point Goose was soaked. "I am sorry, this was… too much wasn't it? You don't have to take it, I-"

Carole finally spoke in disbelief, "Goose, just tell me why you did it."

Goose let out a small laugh, looking up at the rain, shrugging, "Because I'm in love with you. I- I have been forever." He rubbed the back of his neck, "I now realize I came on a bit too strong, I am sor-" All speech was cut off by Carole pulling him down for a kiss.

It didn't matter how hard the rain was pouring, they didn't break apart for a long time.

#goose x carole #boasamishipper #top gun #writing #i went with forever being a saying #over like a soulmate au #because this was cuter

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harringtonstudios · 5 years ago

Text

teenage dirtbag. (part I)

plot: you’ve just gotten a job at Chipotle, your co-worker’s kind of an ass. part 2!

A/N: icky day of another icky week. this keeps me sane! lemme know your thoughts :) gif credit: @mgkgifs; inspired by Kells’ own interview haha

masterlist!

Life after graduation was supposed to be amazing. Some big thing, attending college and living up the seemingly best years of your life. Of course, that’d all gone up in flames when you’d been kicked out over some stupid argument, leaving you to fend for yourself.

Cleveland wasn’t the nicest place to sit on the streets until the sun came out, but you’d managed to nap on park benches until you could piece some things together. A week later, you were staying with a friend, sleeping on their couch and you’d finally gotten a job at Chipotle in the mall.

You’d caught a break for the first time in a while, and after knowing that you had secured that stupid job, you’d ended up crying just thinking about everything. It was time to get your life back on track.

The next morning, you’d walked in to Chipotle, changed into the uniform in the employee’s only bathroom and that’s when you had run into him.

He was waiting right outside, leaning against the wall. His head was hanging down, sunglasses on, as his fingers fumbled around with a bright green lighter.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, you ran a hand down your apron before muttering out, “Hey! I’m Y/N.”

He looked up at that, acknowledging you through a nod. The lighter in his hands flickered. You stared a second before extending out your hand, hoping for a shake.

“Colson,” he mumbled, letting his hand meet yours, slightly shaking it. You smiled before leaving the area, walking up the counter. Nothing was going to ruin your mood right now, not even the weird co-worker with shades on inside.

Twenty minutes into manning the front by yourself, Colson had come up, standing by the cash register.

“So you’ve been trained?” he asked, hands stuck in the pockets of the apron.

“No,” you muttered, rolling up a customer’s burrito at the other end of the counter. The customer gave you a look as you finished wrapping the order in foil before throwing them a dazzling smile.

Looking back at Colson, you saw a surprised look on his face. His mouth was open and he scoffed a little as he rang up the order.

“So what you’re just a Chipotle fan? How’d you get everything down so fast?” he asked, returning the change before turning his attention back towards you.

“I read the instructions,” you responded, pointing at the directions that were printed and pasted on the countertop.

“Mm, rule follower,” he declared, leaning over to fiddle with the stereo system.

“I literally just got hired,” you stated back, trying not to be short with him.

While he’d been fooling around in the back, you’d snuck a peek at the work schedule for the next month. Most of your shifts were with Colson B., written in a scrawly scratch on the big calendar. You didn’t want to fight with your co-worker.

Soft static filled the air between you two, and Colson grimaced before moving back to change the radio station. Within seconds, Iron Maiden flooded the speaker system and you lit up.

“Keep that on?” you asked, already feeling a little lighter as you bounced on your heels to the music.

“You like Maiden?” he responded, tone sounding incredulous.

“Yeah dude. They’re my favorite band,” you responded, tapping to the beat now.

“Sick,” he shouted out, throwing up a rock sign. You smiled at him, maybe he wasn’t insufferable.

An hour later, you took that thought back. Colson had disappeared again, claiming he had to piss ten minutes ago. The lunch rush had started, and you were struggling to keep up with the crowd.

People were shouting over each other, loud in the small store. You couldn’t hear the customer ordering, and you’d already messed up an order, having to refund the man.

Shoving lettuce into a bowl, you moved a strand of hair out of your face before sliding the bowl down to the next station. Colson stepped back out and you huffed before muttering, “Finally. Little help?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, before shouting out, “Yoooo!”

You looked up to catch him reaching over the counter to dap a couple of guys up. They all started chatting with him, and he was pulled into the ebb and flow of their conversation.

You scoffed. Typical, you were stuck with most of the work and you were putting up with it too.

Baring a grin, you walked to the cash register, slamming the bowl on the tabletop. Colson looked at you, unimpressed as you mumbled, “Steak burrito bowl. Extra guac.”

“Congrats princess. You’ve charged someone for guac,” he stilted, reaching to put in the order. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused at his words.

“Lots to learn young padawan,” he responded, waving a tattooed arm around.

“Oh shut up,” you mumbled under your breath, turning to make the next order.

Fifteen minutes later, the store had cleared out. Exhausted, you slumped on the plastic crate sitting in the corner of the little space behind the counter.

Looking up at the thud, Colson laughed before walking over.

“First lunch rush is over!” he put his palm up for a high five, and you gave him a glare before reaching up to hit it.

“Yeah man, no thanks to you,” came tumbling out of your mouth. Immediately, you paused, trying to gauge his reaction.

He gave you a once over, then shrugged his shoulders before saying, “Don’t really care about this place. I’ve been here too long.”

“Well, I haven’t. So could you please just help me along? I don’t wanna fuck this up already,” you muttered out, exasperated with his reactions.

“You’re good dude. Prime example of a Chipotle worker. Reading all the instructions and shit, I just played around with the food the first day,” he counted off, knocking your shoulder with his hand.

“How haven’t you been fired?” you prompted, looking up at him.

Raising his sunglasses, he put them atop his head, smirking he stated, “Guess I’m just that charming.”

You rolled your eyes, hearing him laugh. His own eyes were on display, blue laced with just a little bit of bloodshot. The door dinged and you started to get up before he waved you down, moving as he mumbled, “Stay. I got this one.”

A week into, things had gotten better. You and Colson turned out to have a lot in common, falling in love with the same bands, following the same artists.

He had apologized for his behavior the first day, claiming he was just super hungover. At first, you’d been reluctant, but then he’d worked through every lunch rush to make it up to you and you’d felt good about something.

Learning more about him, you had been kinda shocked to see he was still working in a shitty Chipotle. He was talented, way beyond anyone you’d ever met. Could rap real fast, creating lyrics out of thin air.

Sometimes, during the empty parts of the day, you throw him over an ingredient, ask him to freestyle something. It was great, never the same thing twice, and always to a different beat. It drove you crazy knowing he was filled to the brim with talent, but was stuck here instead.

“Ay Y/N! Come here,” came his voice, shouting from the front. You had snuck to the back, calling up your friend to let her know you were going to be home later tonight since you had to do closing.

You walked out front, shoving your phone in your pocket only to see a group of guys gathered around the first table. They looked oddly familiar, and then you placed them. They were the guys that had come in during your first day, the big distractions.

“Y/N, these are my dudes. Dudes, Y/N!” Colson offered, waving his arms to the both of you. You got on your tip-toes, reaching across the glass to shake their hands.

“I’ve definitely seen you around. Where ya from?” one of the guys asked, hand lingering on yours. Pulling your arm back, you grinned before saying, “Around here. Graduated from Shaker.”

At that Colson gave you the strangest look as his friends laughed.

“We’re from Shaker. Class of 08. I’m Slim,” the guy clarified and you gave him a thumbs up, tuning them out as they continued talking.

A few minutes later, they waved at you, stepping out of the store. Waving back, you awkwardly turned to look at Colson, reluctant to admit that you weren’t really paying attention to his friends.

“You weren’t listening huh?” he asked, not even letting you fully turn. Laughing a little, he took his visor off, running a hand through his hair. You grimaced, laughing back before saying, “Sorry, it’s not like that. I just didn’t really know any of them.”

“So what I’m getting from this is you can be bad sometimes?” he continued, scuffing his Chucks against the linoleum.

You let out a snort before going, “Colson what does that even mean?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he mumbled out, securing his visor back on as the doorbell rang.

Returning your attention to the food in front of you, you thought it over. Ever since you’d started here, he’d made fun of you, constantly egging on you for the way you followed the rules.

He was much more lax with his position, coming in high or hungover, playing with the radio all day long and once even lighting up in the backroom. You didn’t really care what he did on his own time, but the last one had caused your anxiety to spike and you’d yelled at him just a little.

Finishing up, the customer dropped a dollar into the tip jar before heading out the door. It was just you two again.

Reaching over to tune the radio, you grinned as another Iron Maiden song came on. He smiled, eyes not really leaving his phone but you were determined to spend just the right way killing time.

Poking him in the shoulder, you danced a little on the floor. He looked up at that, nodding along to the bass. Soon enough, the both of you were shuffling to the song, hands in the air. He was playing air guitar, and you laughed at his technique, mimicking it across from him.

“What,” he breathed out, flushed from the rock concert you’d just put on.

“Never saw someone play guitar like that,” you uttered, moving a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You play?” he asked, motioning the fake guitar towards you.

“Yeah, I used to,” you responded, taking it from him. Adjusting the air strap, you flashed back to high school days when your guitar was your escape. Playing the strings, you let a couple of chord songs drop out of your mouth.

“Learn something new about you every day,” he observed, watching you string with your eyes closed.

“Huh,” you asked, breaking out of your bubble.

“You had a guitar?” he continued, running his tongue over his teeth.

“Um yeah, back in high school. I had to leave it at my old place,” you mumbled out, fingers going to run over the small tattoo on your wrist.

“Sorry,” he peeked out, seeing the discomfort on your face.

“No, you’re good. So, you went to Shaker?” you asked, changing the topic.

He snorted out before saying, “Messed around at Shaker is more like it. Don’t really know how I graduated but here I am,” he finished out, waving his arms around at the empty space around you.

“Hey dude! Same!” you shouted out, palms reaching over to clap them onto his shoulder. He laughed at your enthusiastic face, shaking away his smile as you tapped your fingers against him.

Motley Crue filled the air and you bit your lip, resisting the urge to bang your fists onto his shoulders with the beat.

Moving away, you handed him two straws, taking a paper cup of your own. He got the message, drumming in thin air as you pretended to string along the guitar.

The whole song, you two kept flashing smiles at each other, raging as the music just got louder. Finally, the song came to an end and you grabbed two cups, moving out of the counter to get water from the fountain.

Trying to catch your breath back, you smiled to yourself while pressing the buttons, thinking about how Colson’s energy had matched yours perfectly.

“C’mon live a little,” came a voice from right behind and you turned your head to see Colson right behind you, closer than you expected.

“Mm no thanks,” you responded, bringing up the second cup to the water option. Within a second, his arm came from behind, hand guiding yours to the Lemonade option.

You begrudgingly held the cup as he filled it up, waiting to hand it back to him.

“We’re not supposed to do that,” you murmured, moving back to the counter, moment gone.

He let out a loud groan, facing you from the other side before saying, “Y/N. I promise you they don’t care.”

“How do you know that,” you spit back, sipping at the water, eyes motioning to the cameras on the ceiling.

“They don’t work. Believe me, I’ve been doing stupid shit since I got hired and I’m still here.”

“Stupid shit?” you wondered, interest peaking a little.

“Yeah extra chicken if I’m on scooping. Don’t charge for extras, and sometimes you know I just give out food,” he listed before continuing, “it’s why the tip jar’s usually full. You gotta work for the people.”

You laughed at his self-righteousness, watching him refill his cup. “You do all that?”

“Yep,” he popped, flashing you a grin.

“What a rebel,” you sighed out loud, mocking his whole spiel.

“Shut up, corporate doesn’t care if you suck their dicks,” he shot back, eyes twinkling.

“Hey give me some credit, I’m a lot more selective with the dicks I suck,” you shot back, laughing at your own joke.

He moved closer to the counter, leaning on his elbows so that he was looking up at you, hands balled up at his cheeks.

“Tell me more about these dicks,” he asked sweetly, grinning at the blush building on your cheeks.

The door rang and you threw up a peace sign, moving over to assist the customer, happy with a distraction. Colson sighed again loudly, before walking around to get at the cash register. You moved along the line, filling the burrito with all the items before rolling it up just right. It was like a secret talent, folding it up perfectly so that none of the contents would fall out. Satisfied with your roll, you put paper over it before passing it off to Colson.

He looked at you for a second, winked and then faced the customer. “Hey dude, it’s on the house. You’re our 100th customer today, enjoy!” he rattled out, smiling as he handed the food over.

You widened your eyes before smiling over at the customer, blurting out, “Happy 100!” making jazz hands. Dropping a $5 into the tip jar, he turned around, leaving with his free food.

As soon as he left, you wacked Colson in the shoulder, grumbling, “What the fuck was that man? 100th customer bullshit?”

“So we were talking about your type?” he continued, without missing a beat.

“Huh?” you asked, shaking your head.

“Your type of guy? Like what you’re into,” he gestured, focused on you.

“Uhm, I don’t know. Why does it matter?” you questioned, turning away from the bore of his eyes, taking off your plastic gloves.

“It doesn’t I guess,” he murmured, letting the air around you fall into silence.

You threw out your gloves, and then turned around just to see him biting his lip over at you.

He took a breath before saying, “You wanna go out with me after this?” eyes meeting yours.

“Like- on a date?” you clarified, playing with your own fingers, nervous for his reaction.

“Yeah,” he nodded out and you tried to hold in your smile.

“Nope, I don’t like you,” you answered, keeping your voice as montone as you could.

He grimaced, shoulders sagging a little. Watching him, you burst out laughing, going over to his side.

“Yeah dummy, I’ll go out with you. No more of that good girl shit though,” you slightly scolded, hand reaching up to pat his cheek.

“Rule breaker huh?�� he mumbled, tilting his head just a smidge to lick your palm.

“Colson!” you shouted, pulling your hand back, rubbing it on your apron.

He just grinned over, teeth shiny white on display and you rolled your eyes before saying, “Dude stop looking at me like that!”

Your heart was fluttering just a little and even though you were dreading the closing rush, knowing that Colson was stuck here with you and that there was something to look forward to tonight made you feel so much better.

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyth @rosegoldrichie @mayaslifeinabox @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging

#teenage colson baker is a dick but also v sweet #mgk imagine #mgk lyrics #mgk icons #mgk fanfic #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly fanfiction #machine gun kelly fanfic #colson baker x reader #colson baker fanfiction #colson baker imagine #mgk x reader #m writes 4 mgk #m-writes-4-mgk

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gaberoothekangaroo · 4 years ago

Note

Yoooo okay I GOTTA ask about Witch Adam/Ronan, derek/stiles daemon au (!!!!), arranged marriage

no read mores! we flood the dash like men!

Witch (Adam/Ronan, 2k + words) [coincidentally, I never actually wrote anything between Adam and Ronan other than some dialogue around the prompt ‘What? I’m not a witch? Who told you that?’. So instead have what I wrote before I got to them: Adam meeting the women of 300 Fox Way]

The first thing he made sure to check was that there were no other witches in Pine Brook. He found a home that boasted psychics, but he didn't think they'd be actual witches. The home was old, lived in. Loved. It seemed normal aside from the porch full of plants. There was no over pouring of occult paraphernalia.

They could be.

Rolling back his shoulders and pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, he unlatched the worn gate and creaked his way up the stairs and across the porch. Before he could even knock, a woman with white hair appeared out of the darkness behind the screen door, smiling at him. It sent chills dancing up his spine.

"Magician, what brings you around?" She asked from within the confines of the house, giving him a faint smile.

Unsure of whether or not she was speaking to him, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was alone. When he managed to swing his eyes back to face her, she had opened the door and was looking up at him. He tried not to jump backwards.

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd swing by." She turned away into the house without waiting for him, disappearing into the dark. Hesitant, he let the door slap against the frame.

"Come along!" She cried from somewhere inside.

He grasped the handle and moved inside, careful not to let the screen door slam again. It was dark in the foyer, coats hanging on either side of the hall before the stairwell that led up one side and the hall that seemed to continue on forever ahead of him. The woman popped her head out of a doorframe two thirds of the way down the hall before disappearing. He moved towards her at a brisk pace, not wanting to hang around in the hall forever.

She had led him into the kitchen where two other women were hip to hip at the stove making something. The kitchen opened up into a dining room as well with a very large table pressed up against the near wall of windows. The woman he had followed was sitting at the table, nodding to the space in front of her. Unsure of what to do, he watched the ladies backs as they moved about on his way to the table. They were somewhat behind him and to the side as he sat down.

When he turned to face the woman, she had leaned across the table and was staring very intently at him. He gave her a nervous smile, trying not to be rude.

"The Magician has come by to say hello. He also wanted to see how witchy we were."

He stilled, blood running cold. He sure as fuck hoped he didn't just insult an entire coven of witches. The clatter and noise at the stove stopped as the two women found their way to the empty side of the table next to him and the woman opposite him. He swallowed thickly, looking up at them.

"Ladies, I-" He began, before the shorter woman stopped him.

"Sugar, we're as witch as it gets. I don't want you causin' no trouble, y'here me?" He nodded quickly. "I need a 'yes, ma'am,' yu' understood?" Her eyebrows lifted in response to her question.

"Yes, ma'am. I understand."

She nodded once, turning back to the stove, throwing out a, "Good."

The other woman continued to stand there, arms crossed over her chest. Evaluating him? Reading his soul? Intimidating him? He had no clue, but he felt like a lizard under the watchful gaze of a cat. Any wrong move could be the end of him and no one would be the wiser.

"I want you to listen real close to me, young man. I don't want no tomfoolery going on in this town. You keep yourself clean and you keep yourself out of our affairs. I don't wanna catch you round this street again." She stared at him some more. It felt like she wasn't through. He didn't want to try to 'yes ma'am' her before she was through. "And keep that ruckus /down/." She emphasized as she too moved back to the stove.

He felt cool hands against his, turning his attention to the first woman. She carefully moved his palms upwards, dragging her nails lightly over the lines. Carefully placing them on the table cloth, she moved away and disappeared into the darkness of the hall. He looked at the backs of the other women, unsure of what to do. He felt very out of his element here. More so than usual.

He didn't have to wait long before she came back. She placed a small vial stuffed full of herbs on a long loop of leather into his palms. She carefully curled his hands over it and patted them.

"To keep the ruckus down."

"Mom, where's-" A loud voice entered the kitchen before it stopped. He turned to look. There was a wild girl standing in the doorway, painted nails digging into the wood as she eyed him. He was in a house full of lionesses, sharp teeth and poisoned words. He quickly turned his gaze away, placing it back on the table in front of him.

"Come along, little magician." The woman took one of his hands and led him past the girl in the doorframe and down the hall of coats to the front door.

She smiled and waved him goodbye before disappearing in the blink of an eye. As he stood there, confused, on the front porch, he could hear the loud voices of the women inside. He didn't know how to feel. He stumbled his way off the porch and through the gate, eyeing the 'psychics' sign in the yard.

Derek/Stiles daemon au (2 versions, mostly bullet point notes)

Version 1: de-aged + daemon. I think it was set post? season 1? pre? season 2? Some sort of shenanigans is going on with some monster of the week. Derek and his wolf familiar, plus alive Hale family and alive teen pack, end up finding de-aged Stiles and his de-aged hyena familiar near their property line. Derek’s stuck on babysitting duty while they try to figure out why the Sheriff’s kid is an even tinier kid. Derek having to awkwardly walk around Stiles’s questions about where his mom is at and why she can’t come pick him up. Scott and his familiar somehow get thrown into the mix in which Scott is Very Upset at having to find out from the rest of teen Hale pack that his best friend is now tiny!best friend.

This version had Derek being able to merge? with his daemon when he shifted into a werewolf. Have no clue if I planned to have the rest of the Hales and werewolves be able to do the same thing. 5+ years away from a 2am fic idea.

Version 2: daemon + adults/college. Canon divergent somewhere around season 2/3a? or maybe even season 1 before Scott and Stiles are on Hale property. Again, some sort of shenanigans/monster of the week. Stiles and Derek are both at the gym when their familiars get into a fight, spooking Stiles and causing him to leave the gym. On his way home he thinks he’s being followed and is run off the road/kidnapped. My notes become less clear here: either Derek is also kidnapped at some point and the two bicker their way out confinement and to safety or Derek and pack are there to save one of their pack members and Derek ends up saving Stiles, too.

Arranged Marriage (tbh i spent like seven or eight hours just absolutely writing like a mad man to get this out of my head and into a notepad. and once it was there i promptly forgot it all. had to reread it before i could summarize lol)

With the kingdom on the brink of war with neighboring nations, the king reaches out to form alliances. He promises his children’s hands in marriage, but many of the other nations aren’t willing to have to wait for the children to be old enough to be useful, so the king promises the hands of other members of his court. Gweyir, son of a baron, is to be wed to the kingdom to the north--a secluded land and people, cut off by a snowy mountain pass that sometimes doesn’t clear until mid summer. He goes from training with the guard to trying to study a language and culture his kingdom doesn’t know much about. He doesn’t know the name of the man he’s to marry, or his station; Gweyir is very unsure about whether or not men can marry one another because he’s never seen it before and is panicking. When the time came, he left at dawn, without pomp and circumstance, on horseback with as much as he could fit into his saddlebags and one of the knights of the court as escort. The pass hadn’t melted enough and they nearly fell to their deaths multiple times, but they eventually made it days later, ill prepared for the frigid weather. From the border onwards, he could only understand a few words here and there from the people he spoke with. Having arrived at the castle, they held a feast and dance; he awkwardly fumbled his way through the whole thing. In the morning he and the knight were escorted by a page to his new estate and to the waiting wedding party.

Roughly scrubbed clean by angry grandmothers, dressed in very fine but plain clothes after many minutes waiting naked on the cold stones, he was left alone in a room with chairs and a table near a large window. The door opened a couple times and he heard lots of hushed arguing before it closed again. After what seemed like half the day, he was led into a large ballroom or long hall with music tinkling softly and a good gathering of people whispering. He stepped up next to the man, broad shouldered and well muscled like a brawler with hair beginning to gray. Halfway through whatever marriage ceremony they were in, they finally faced each other and the man immediately led him, the page, and a slew of other men through a door on the other side of the room where he was promptly interrogated about who he was and why he was here--first in their language and then in his own when it became obvious he didn’t really know the language. Much arguing follows before the man sends the page to request a meeting with the king.

They meet with the king. And the court. And with representatives from his own land after what seems like months because of the still half snowed in pass. And they are to wed. The alliance has already been made, signed, and soldiers and supplies shipped off to the front lines.

Many, many, many words later, the husband is being sent to lead a war party and the estate is to be left in Gweyir’s hands. He’s left with the keys, including a small ring of keys to the husbands’ rooms and other doors beyond that--of which he is to not go within. And he doesn’t because it’s a retelling and the butchered bodies of Bluebeard’s wives aren’t the secrets behind the locked doors, but hidden behind the faces of the people at court who know his history and wish ill to the husband.

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sci-fi-pony · 4 years ago

Note

Yoooo i love you BTHB writing, they’re all so good 🥺. If you’re still talking requests can you do drowning for Shawn and Juliet. Ty!!!

Aah, thank you so much!! 💜 And thanks for the request! Hope you enjoy it!

Fandom: Psych

Characters: Shawn, Juliet

Categories: AU, Adventure, Friendship, can be pre-Shules if you want to read it that way

Summary: (AU) During his travels, Shawn decides to visit Miami for Christmas. And along the way stumbles across a gang of thieves and a rookie cop named Juliet O'Hara.

Written for the @badthingshappenbingo for the "Drowning" prompt.

2:30 A.M. — 24 December, 2005

Miami, Florida

As another spray of cold ocean water misted over him, Shawn decided that he really needed to start listening to his instincts.

Although, technically, he did usually listen to his instincts. It was more the interpretation of those gut feelings that he needed to work on. He had a tendency to listen to the voice in his head that was gleefully shouting "Hey, something bad is going down, let's check it out!" as opposed to the much more rational voice that usually advised along the lines of "Nope, something bad happening, let's get out of Dodge while we still can." That second voice always sounded a bit like Gus — which might be why Shawn tended to ignore it.

All he knew was that if he'd heeded that calmer, wiser, and utterly boring second voice tonight, he wouldn't currently be laying on the deck of a rusty fishing boat with little chance of ever stepping foot on land again.

Oddly, it wasn't the plastic zip ties biting into his wrists, and pulling his arms painfully tight behind him, that was bothering him the most right now. No, Random Goon #2 just had to toss him down right over a particularly rough deck board and Shawn had been dealing with an irritating splinter in his arm for the hour or so since. Now that was real torture.

Another salty mist drenched him and he shivered in the cool night air. He was already soaked as it was. And the fact that he had on a light t-shirt — his jacket left behind at the motel because he hadn't anticipated a late night trip on the ocean — only made it even more miserable.

Why was it so chilly anyway? December or not, this was supposed to be Florida. He'd specifically come here to get away from the cold for the holidays. Not that he minded snow on occasion, but Shawn found that he tended to gravitate towards warmer climates. This might be a byproduct of being raised in California, or it could have something to do with the fact that his motorcycle didn't provide very much protection from cold and wind.

However he'd ended up here, this was certainly not how Shawn envisioned spending his Christmas. This must be some form of karma for not visiting Gus for the holiday season again this year.

The boat finally stopped moving and Shawn maneuvered into a sitting position so he could get a better look at their surroundings.

There was a brief moment of vindication as Shawn recognized the shipping yard they were now floating only a few dozen yards out from. It was the very same place he'd pegged as the potential drop site for the thieves.

Ha! Totally called it.

The feeling of victory was short lived, though, as he remembered that he was brought here for the express purpose of killing him off.

Heavy boots thudded over the deck planking, heading directly for him. The boat's lights were out, but the moon was exceptionally bright tonight so he had no trouble seeing the three very large men as they crowded around.

The man who was undoubtedly the ring leader waved his gun in what was probably intended to be a threatening gesture. But it wasn't the gun that Shawn was worried about right now; he had a feeling these guys were planning a much more silent — and painful — method of murder. The fact they hadn't shot him already confirmed that they were trying to keep as quiet as possible. If it wasn't for the gag, he'd have been yelling frantically for assistance from any and all security workers who might be in the shipping yard.

Two massive figures who looked like they could be body doubles for Arnold Schwarzenegger approached. One of them grabbed his shoulders, pinning him down on the deck, while the other began tying a rope around one of his ankles. Shawn wasn't sure what they were doing, but it obviously wasn't going to end pleasantly for him, so there didn't seem to be a lot of motivation to cooperate with their efforts.

"Hey!" The-slightly-shorter-hulk hissed angrily as Shawn jerked his foot out of the man's grip and kicked him in the shin. "Knock it off!"

Oh, yeah, sure. Of course I'll gladly behave while you try to murder me, Shawn thought with a grimace as his ankle was grabbed again.

Even Henry would have been pleased — or at least not wholly disappointed — in how much trouble Shawn gave his kidnappers. Unfortunately it all proved pointless. He was outnumbered, and there was only so much struggling he could manage while restrained and held down by the Terminator.

When they finally finished and backed off for a moment, Shawn checked to see what they had done. A sick feeling stabbed through his stomach as he saw the large weight tied to his ankle. Even if his wrists weren't secured, there was no way he'd be able to swim with that thing dragging him down.

He couldn't believe this was how he was going out. Not that he'd given any real thought to the idea of dying, but certainly he should get something more glamorous than being dropped over the side of a rusty fishing boat in the dead of night. And at Christmastime, no less.

Another horrible thought struck him as he realized it'd probably be a few weeks before anyone even knew he was missing. He and Henry didn't exactly keep in touch. And, while he had a very solid relationship with Gus still, it wasn't uncommon for him to drop off the grid every so often. Every time that seven week itch hit, Shawn would pull up stakes and wait to inform Gus until he'd resettled someplace new. It worked better that way. Gus tended to worry whenever Shawn was temporarily between residences, so it made sense to wait until he could reassure his friend that he was safe and comfortable before calling him. It saved himself a headache and Gus an early death by aneurysm.

"Alright, better do this before we get too close to shore," the ring leader told his subordinates. "Drop him here."

Two pairs of huge hands grabbed him before he had time to react. The next moment, he was falling into the inky black void below.

The shock of the cold water almost had him gasping in a breath automatically. Thankfully, he managed to quell that reaction before inhaling a lungful of salt water. The gag was tied too tight for him to keep his mouth sealed, making it harder to hold his breath and forcing him to swallow water to avoid breathing it instead.

Okay, he fought desperately through the panic clouding his thoughts. Okay, focus! First thing... wrists. Need my arms to swim.

The one nice thing about being restrained by zip ties instead of rope was that they were generally easier to escape from. Of course, not being able to see his hands was an unfortunate challenge.

Jabbing his thumb nail into the locking mechanism, Shawn pried at it until he got the lock up off the strap. Pulling one wrist free, he let the zip ties fall off as he immediately shifted his attention to the weight tied to his ankle.

Almost-numb fingers tugged at the rope without success. Whether from adrenaline or lack of oxygen, his hands were shaking too hard to make any progress against the water-bloated knot.

There were dark spots spreading across his vision before Shawn determined that a new approach to this was necessary. He ripped his sneaker off and began desperately clawing at the ring of rope, trying to tug it downward enough to pull it off his foot. Dark red clouded the water as the skin on his ankle broke and tore, but he finally managed to remove the rope and kick free of it.

His eyes stung, throat burned, and his lungs ached deeply. He felt as if a Saint Bernard had sat on his chest. The numbness was spreading from his fingers to encompass all of his limbs. Pins and needles raced through his arms and legs, making his movements slow and clumsy as he tried to paddle for the surface.

The black spots in his view were now accompanied by flashes of blue, red, and white. Muffled noises that sounded a lot like sirens and shouting filtered their way down to him. He was near the surface, he was sure of it, but apparently not quite close enough.

Shawn knew the exact moment he hit his limit for how long before his body's natural instincts took over and forced him to breathe. Oddly, his mind was a bit too fuzzy right now to even feel very afraid at that knowledge. The first lungful of salt water burned and caused him to stop paddling as his lungs forcefully attempted to hack it back out.

So close, he thought distantly, as the numbness finally succeeded in encompassing his whole body.

His vision whited out before going completely dark for a length of time he couldn't even begin to guess at.

He was vaguely aware of the sensation of being pulled upward, and then everything went fuzzy again for a while.

The next feeling to hit him was pain. A lot of pain. His whole body ached, his esophagus was on fire, and a migraine that rivaled any hangover was pounding at the inside of his skull. The headache wasn't being helped by the very loud noises coming from every direction.

What happened to that beautifully numb feeling from before?

A few voices were very close by. It took several extra minutes of muddled thoughts before it registered that at least one of those voices was trying to speak to him.

"If you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes, okay?"

Sure. No problem.

It sounded like a simple enough request. In theory, at least.

Unfortunately, he wasn't sure he remembered how to do that. Or how to make his body respond to any commands, for that matter. Breathing seemed to be the extent of his capabilities right now — and even that was iffy, given the level of pain that accompanied each breath.

A gentle pressure wrapped around his hand and he was surprised that he could feel that through the bone-deep ache in all of his limbs.

"Okay, if you're conscious, I need you to squeeze my hand back. Got it?"

Well, that seemed slightly more doable. And apparently he succeeded without even realizing it because the grip let go of his hand a moment later, a murmured note of approval from the other person.

Everything blurred together for a while after that, but Shawn eventually came to a bit more awareness to find himself laying on a stretcher beside the open back doors of an ambulance, an oxygen mask over his face.

Emergency vehicles of various kinds were scattered around what appeared to be the shipping yard. The fishing boat was now sitting a few yards offshore, surrounded by several law enforcement boats. He could only hope that meant his kidnappers were currently enjoying the inside of a holding cell.

Being checked out by the paramedics wasn't fun, but thankfully didn't last very long. After being given a cold pack for his head and a blanket for the bone-deep chill that had set in, they left him alone to go check on one of the officers who'd taken a few punches during the arrests.

Shawn sat on the stretcher for several minutes, just watching the coordinated chaos of the crime scene around him. Despite the blanket cocooned around him, he couldn't make himself stop shivering. He distantly wondered if the paramedics mentioned shock in the list of symptoms he hadn't been listening to.

The strobing lights from the various police and coast guard vehicles eventually became too much for his aching head and he closed his eyes against the onslaught. He really wanted to go back to his motel room and just pass out for a few days.

"Shawn Spencer?"

Lowering the cool pack from his head, Shawn found himself being stared down by a small blond woman in a police uniform. Between the flashing lights and his headache, he didn't get a very good look before needing to close his eyes again. But that voice sounded familiar.

"Mister Spencer, I'm Officer O'Hara. I understand you were the one who sent in that tip earlier tonight?"

That's when it clicked. His eyes opened again as he glanced at her in surprise. "Hey, you were the officer on the radio," he said, wincing at how rough his voice sounded. Although, after coughing up half the Atlantic Ocean, he should probably be glad there wasn't worse damage.

A wry smile crossed her lips. "Yes, and I'm sure my captain would love to have a conversation with you about unauthorized use of official police channels."

"I never said I was the one who called you," Shawn defended quickly, sizing her up to see what he was dealing with. Young, oddly wholesome looking for a street cop, and obviously not long on the force.

"Relax, Mister Spencer–"

"Shawn."

"Sorry?"

"Just Shawn," he clarified. Mister Spencer should be reserved for balding middle aged men with superiority complexes — something which he firmly promised himself he would never become.

"Okay, Shawn," she continued, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Anyway, I don't think you have to worry too much. I'm sure the captain will be willing to let you off with a stern warning."

Shawn eyed her suspiciously. He'd been raised by a cop and spent a good portion of his childhood years in the SBPD. There had to be a catch.

"I'm sure once you agree to testify against these guys..."

And there it was.

"...they'll be more than willing to overlook the interference in an active police investigation."

Well, that wouldn't work. As much as he'd love to help ensure these guys stayed behind bars, he wasn't planning on staying in the area much longer. He had been hoping to leave by tomorrow afternoon.

"What interference?" Shawn protested, putting on his best innocent expression. It never failed to make Gus, and every teacher he'd ever had, trust him against their better judgement and all common sense. "I was going to pick up fast food for dinner. Can I help it if I ended up kidnapped and almost drowned? I was the victim here."

One eyebrow arched skeptically. "Uh huh. And what fast food place were you hoping to find in a warehouse district?"

Okay, she was good. Apparently this young rookie wasn't so naive after all.

His shoulders sagged a bit in defeat. Staying for the trial meant spending much longer in Miami than he'd anticipated. The original plan had been to leave right after Christmas, so he hadn't been too concerned with funds up to this point. Now he'd have to start job hunting again if he didn't want to spend the next few weeks sleeping beside his motorcycle.

On the other hand, it would be nice to see those guys locked away before he left town. And if it would get him off the hook for interference and use of a police radio... "Fine, I'll come talk to your captain."

She held up a hand to stop him from moving. "Uh-uh, not right now. You can do that after you've been cleared by these guys," she waved a hand toward the paramedics, who were currently packing up for the ride back to the hospital. "I think it's safe to say they'll want to run some tests at the hospital before releasing you."

Shawn glanced at the ambulance unhappily. And this time it had nothing to do with the lights bothering his head. He barely had enough cash left on hand to finish paying his motel bill for the week. And if he was going to be sticking around, he'd need all the money he had and then some. An ambulance ride was never going to be an affordable option for him. Especially with his non-existent insurance.

"You know what, I think I'm good," he replied, waving a hand carelessly. "Thanks for the patch up job, guys. But I'm pretty sure I just need a seventy-two hour nap and some time on dry land."

Officer O'Hara eyed him for a moment, head tilted to the side in an oddly adorable way. "You almost drowned," she pointed out, as if he'd somehow forgotten that traumatizing experience. "You really should go in and let them check you out."

"Nah, I'm just a bit waterlogged. Little known fact: I was actually raised by dolphins. Definitely comes in handy in situations like this."

Her expression softened slightly. "Why don't I drive you in to get looked over by a doctor," she suggested. "And when they're done, I can take you down to the station to get your statement. Kill two birds with one stone."

Well, that was an unexpected offer. O'Hara not only recognizing the issue, but her tactful handling of it as well, was kind of touching. And it certainly made it harder to say no.

"Tell you what. I'll accept that offer on one condition. You go out for breakfast with me after the station."

He was only half-joking with the offer. She wasn't exactly his type — and he had a feeling he was far from hers, either — but he wouldn't mind having a chance to talk with her a bit more. Shawn loved meeting new people. Forming actual relationships with them, not so much. But those first meetings — getting to see if his initial reads on them were accurate or not — were the best part of his travels. He especially liked those rare occasions when people would surprise him by being completely different from their initial impression. Some instinct was telling him O'Hara might be one of those kind of people.

She laughed, a light sound that warmed some of the chill from him. "Well, as nice as that offer is, I do have my own plans for the holiday, so I'll have to pass."

"Aw, you'd rather spend Christmas Eve with a bunch of cats and older brothers than with a handsome and heroic stranger?" he teased, feeling the need to check for himself that his brain was still functioning satisfactorily. Judging by her surprised expression, it was.

"How did you know that?"

He tapped his forehead, a grin tugging at his lips. "Psychic."

"No, seriously. How did you know that?"

His grin widened. "Can't help noticing you didn't deny the handsome stranger part."

She shook her head, but the look of exasperation was ruined by the amused smile tilting up one corner of her mouth. "Handsome, maybe, but I certainly wouldn't say heroic."

"That hurts. And after I risked my life to help bring down a ring of thieves."

"Oh, really?" her sweet smile took on a suddenly mischievous quality that threw him off guard. "Because I thought you were some innocent victim going out for dinner."

Man, was she good. He wasn't used to people outmaneuvering him quite so easily. And he couldn't figure out why he loved that so much.

"Okay, forget breakfast. How about a Christmas Eve morning smoothie."

"Is that some holiday tradition of yours?"

"It could be."

She sighed and turned to gesture at her patrol car. "Fine, you win. Go to the hospital and then fill out a full statement on what happened, and I'll get one quick smoothie with you. I'll even buy the smoothies."

"You drive a hard bargain," Shawn agreed with a nod, "but it's a deal."

Pushing himself to his feet, and only wobbling slightly from the residual dizziness, Shawn thanked the paramedics and followed the officer to her patrol car. He realized after a few steps that he was still missing one sneaker. With the other one completely soaked anyway, he pulled it off and set it on the car's floor. It would only make him feel colder to keep wearing it at this point.

It wasn't until they'd pulled out of the shipping yard that she asked the question he'd been waiting for.

"So, why did you decide to spend the early hours of your Christmas Eve tracking down a bunch of criminals?"

Well, that wasn't exactly the question he was expecting. Most people wanted to know how, not why. As such, he had a nicely prepared half-truth to explain how he discovered the identity and location of the criminals. A reason for doing so was not something he thought he'd have to explain.

At his hesitation, O'Hara hastily added, "It just seems odd to go tracking down some criminals in the middle of the night instead of spending your Miami holiday vacation doing, well, literally anything else. You could have just called in your information to the precinct."

"Technically, I did call it in," Shawn interjected.

"You radioed a patrol officer and didn't give any kind of evidence for your claims. You're lucky I didn't assume it was a prank call."

Shawn pulled his blanket tighter and turned up the heating a bit as he snuggled further into his seat. "That's because I didn't have any solid evidence," he told her around a yawn. "And that's why I went to their boat myself. Wanted to see if I was right."

"That doesn't answer why you were investigating on your own in the first place."

That was true. But Shawn really didn't feel like explaining his whole messed up childhood to this total stranger. And how could he explain it in any way that didn't sound insane anyways?

Most people wouldn't have bumped into two guys at a blackjack table and immediately deduced they were connected to the string of warehouse robberies that hit Miami the previous week. And most people wouldn't have then followed up on that lead only to figure out where the stolen goods were being passed off to a middleman with a fishing boat to be transferred to buyers at an offshore location. And most people wouldn't have gone to that meeting to get photographic evidence instead of simply letting the cops handle it.

Sometimes he really hated his inability to leave a puzzle unsolved. He blamed his family lineage for that.

"We're almost at the hospital," O'Hara said, breaking into his thoughts. "I'll just drop you at the entrance and you can text me when you get out."

Shawn glanced over at her with a grateful and exhausted smile. "Thanks, by the way. You didn't have to do this."

"Hey, anything to get on my captain's good side," she said. "He's been after these guys for weeks. And I promised myself I'd make detective in record time."

Gasping, he shot her a look of mock indignation. "Oh, I get it. You're using me as a tool in your climb to power."

Shrugging nonchalantly, she bit back a grin. "Exactly. You've figured out my secret."

"I feel so used."

"Well, you are getting a free smoothie out of the deal."

He tilted his head in consideration. "That's true. I'll count us even."

O'Hara laughed and shook her head. "Hurry up, we've gotta get this case wrapped up before my family's holiday dinner."

Pushing the door open, Shawn tossed the blanket into the back seat and stepped out. He leaned back in a moment later to ask, "Hey, I never got your first name. Feels weird, and too impersonal, calling you 'Officer' after you called in the calvary to save my life."

A soft smile spread over her lips. "It's Juliet."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Juliet."

"Nice to meet you, too, Shawn."

Tossing her a casual salute, he shut the car door and turned towards the hospital entrance, a smile of his own lighting up his face.

Maybe staying in Miami a few extra weeks wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. Maybe he'd even give the police a hand in tracking down the rest of that robbery ring.

He wondered if the MPD was open to hiring civilian consultants.

[A/N: Left this one a bit open-ended on purpose, in case I ever want to come back and continue it. Probably won't be anytime soon, though, as I already have four WIPs to work on, lol.]

#psych #psych fanfic #bthb #my fanfics

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mistymark · 5 years ago

Text

the one with the drunk ex.

part of the one year anniversary drabble project // Wong Yukhei x reader // 1.4k words // masterlist // send requests here

summary; in which both y/n’s crush and ex boyfriend are at the same party

warnings; referenced drunk activities, light making out?, Lucas will steal your heart, there's so much smiling and laughing I want to die

requested; yes :) - “aw what a big accomplishment!! happy anniversary, love!! your drabble options are so funny. 26 and 40 with lucas please??”

notes; tHis iS mY fAvOuRiTe pRomPt eVer I LoVeD wRiTinG tHis sO mUch // prompts are; “Hide me. Please.” + “Did you just kiss me?” “Was I not supposed to?”

———————

You learnt against the wall, the can in your hand still almost full, the small amount of alcohol you’ve had already not having an effect on you just yet. You watched with a smile on your face as your friends spun and danced on the dance floor, laughing drunkenly as they stumbled, the cups in their hands empty.

“Good party,” a voice said from beside you. You turned to your side and saw your friend, Lucas, leaning against the wall with his shoulder, one hand holding a can and the other tucked in his jean pocket. You weren’t really sure if you could call him your friend; you’d spoken a few times at similar events and that one time you bumped into him at the supermarket, but other than that, you’d never spent any time with him.

That didn’t stop you from having a raging crush on him, though. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you smiled at him, “Yeah, great.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “How are you?”

His familiar lazy smile made its way onto his face, shrugging, “Fine. I’m-.” He stopped momentarily as your eyes widened, focused on something behind him. “What are you doing?” Lucas asked, gazing confusedly at you as you wriggled closer to him, occasionally looking around him cautiously.

“Hide me. Please,” you looked up at him. “My ex just arrived, and I’d rather not see him.”

Eyes widening, Lucas looked over his shoulder nonchalantly, a smile making its way onto his face as he looked back down at you, eyebrows raised, “Bad break up?”

You raised your drink to your lips as you nodded, your innocent expression making Lucas laugh. When your drink was back at your side, you shrugged, “I tried to end things nicely but...”

At the way your voice trailed off, Lucas laughed, “You broke his heart, didn’t you?”

“I tried to be nice,” you insisted. Your eyes flickered back to the place you’d last seen your ex boyfriend and, upon seeing he’d gone somewhere else, you stepped back from Lucas, leaving a gap. “Thank you, by the way.”

He shrugged, “It’s no problem.” He looked down at his cup, which was now empty, “I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want anything?”

You shook your head, trying not to let the disappointment show on your face, sad to see him go, “No, thanks. I’m a bit of a lightweight.”

You gave him an embarrassed grin, and he smiled back, laughing slightly, “Responsible, huh? I’ll see you soon.”

As you watched him disappear into the crowd, swallowed by the mound of swaying bodies, you leant back against the wall, but a certain face in the crowd made you quickly turn away, hiding your face as you ducked to head into the hallway.

Your ex boyfriend, seemingly a little bit drunk, was searching the party, and it felt like he was looking right at you. Too embarrassed to talk to him, you seeked refuge in the busy hallway, immediately smacking into someone who was trying to weave their way in the other direction, “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

Looking down to see the damage you’d caused to the person’s jacket, having seen a little of the liquid in their cup splash backwards, you didn’t see the smile on their face, instead hearing their laugh, “You stalking me?”

The familiar laugh made your head shoot up, eyes widened in shock, “Lucas? I’m so sorry about your jacket. And, no, I’m not stalking you.”

He shrugged, “Its leather; it’ll come straight off.”

You nodded awkwardly, still standing in the middle of the hallway, as others tried to get around you, “Do you, um, want to go outside? It’s a little tight in here.”

Lucas let out a relieved sigh, his joking smile as beautiful as ever, “Please. I can barely breathe, and I’m a head taller than almost everyone here.”

You laughed as you pointed behind him, and he grabbed your hand, easily weaving his way through the crowd, his height proving to be an advantage.

When you finally reach the back door of the house, you realise it’s a popular place for couples, already spotting two sitting in the dark. You find yourself standing near a heater, the cold of the night making it attractive to you.

You continue talking, and your heart beats a little faster as he leans down a little to talk to you, his face so close.

You can feel your gaze flicking down to his lips a few times as he speaks, and you can tell he’s noticed because every time you do, his smile widens slightly. What you can’t tell, however, is how his gaze falls to your own, too.

Somehow, you forget you’re at the party, your world restricting to just you and Lucas, the sky above littered with stars and the darkness providing comfort.

That is, until you hear a loud smack as the door is flung open, hitting the outside of the house, and your ex’s voice, “Hey! It’s so cold. Why are they out here? Are you cold?!” He’s yelling at one of the couples on the other side of the yard, his words slightly slurring as he tries to communicate, his friend pulling his sleeve and trying to get him to go back inside.

“Yo! What are you doing?” His attention moves to where you and Lucas are standing in the dark, his voice carrying from the doorway.

You grab the sides of Lucas’ jacket and pull him in front of you, the sudden movement surprising him and causing him to throw his hand up above your head to prevent himself from falling into you.

“Yoooo! Are they making out?” You try not to laugh at your ex boyfriend, his drunken self announcing every thought that goes through his head.

Lucas watches you as if asking a question, and before you can even begin to wonder what’s going through his head, he shrugs a little before leaning in and connecting your lips. You feel yourself moving your lips against his slowly, and you can feel the way the corners of his lips lift up slightly.

Your head feels like it’s spinning as he brings his hand from above your head to your neck, taking the lead as you lightly make out. His other hand has found its way to your waist, and your own tug at his jacket more, pulling him closer.

You can feel him coax your mouth open slightly, but the door slamming closed again brings you back down to Earth. Forcing yourself to detach yourself from him, you release his jacket and tilt your head slightly. He seems to understand, because he steps back immediately, the hand that was previously on your neck reaching up to scratch the back of his.

There’s silence for a minute, before a giddy smile makes its way onto your face. The second he glances at you again, the smile is mimicked on his face, too. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Was I not supposed to?” His hand falls down to his side, and even in the dark, you can see his eyes creasing in the corners from smiling.

You shrug, unable to keep the smile off your face, “I mean, no one was holding you back.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you, “You totally enjoyed it.”

You poke your tongue out at him, “Maybe you’re just a really good kisser, I don’t know.”

Lucas rocks back and forth on his forth slightly, his hands finding their way to his pockets as he leans forward suggestively, “We could, you know, do it again.”

“You wanna kiss me again, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes, mimicking your voice, “Maybe you’re just a really good kisser, I don’t know.”

You try to glare at him, but he bends down to press a soft kiss against your cheek, “Text me about that date. Ten just walked out and I have to give him a ride home. Are you right to get home?”

Unable to comprehend anything else after that first sentence, you nod. “Date?” You ask, walking towards the door with him, immediately spotting his friend, Ten, stumbling.

He shrugs, a cocky grin on his face, “If you want.”

You smile back, “Uh, yes, I want.”

He laughs, “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah.” You watch as he grabs Ten easily, his much larger frame leading him through the door and into the party. “I’ll see you.”

Your forgotten drink sits on the wall where you’d been standing, and you know this lightheaded feeling isn’t from the alcohol.

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itsallavengers · 6 years ago

Text

ayapandagirl replied to your post “Yoooo someone give me some peter & tony prompts”

Peter meets a de-aged Tony (same age as him)

There was a crack in space, floating in the middle of Times Square, and it’d been there for three days.

Peter had been with Tony when he’d first got the call. Working on their suits together in his workshop, it had just been another Sunday afternoon. Tony was teasing him about MJ as he’d carefully soldered together a few wires to the base-plate of the chestpiece in his armour, and Peter had been trying to ignore it as gracefully as he could manage- which of course meant digs at Tony about his not-so-subtle texting sprees with a certain Captain America, to which Tony vehemently denied.

Then JARVIS had spoken up hurriedly, informing them both that there were massive energy fluctuations spiking near 7th Avenue and what scans showed to be the first phase of some sort of portal opening up, and all hell had broken loose.

Large-Scale evacuation. Military and SHIELD called to ground. Huge, terrifying weapons pointed at the slowly-growing entrance, primed and ready to be fired at a moment’s notice. Tony had even called back the rest of the Avengers, and the UN had granted them all temporary pardon in favour of them suiting up and being ready to face whatever next came out.

Peter figured that, after the first time, planet Earth wasn’t fucking around any more.

He’d been stood by Tony’s side as they’d both sped over to the scene, breath coming in a little shorter and heart racing that bit faster than usual with the memories of the footage he’d seen on the TV as nothing more than a nine-year-old boy. Aliens and armies and buildings falling to dust and rubble, all of it flashing in his mind and sending his imagination into overdrive. Portals were never good signs. The Battle of New York was proof enough for that.

God only knew how Tony was feeling, stood in front of the thing and watching history repeat itself.

They’d been the first responders, of course- and try as he might, Tony hadn’t been able to stop Peter suiting up and following him to the point of origin. But even when the rest of Avengers had turned up hours later, all of them braced and ready for battle, there hadn’t been anything showing up on the other end. It was just slowly getting bigger- though the only thing visible on the other end was an intense, bright white light.

It took twenty-four hours of standing to attention in front of it before the team of superheroes had decided to make a tactical retreat back to Avengers Tower, which was closest to the portal. Seeing as Tony apparently still hadn’t managed to sell it, it was the easiest choice, really.

However, it had also meant he’d been spending three days without taking his mask off in a tower full of superheroes, trying not to go stir-crazy waiting for something apocalyptic to happen.

“If you spend another hour holed up in here, I think Captain America is going to break down your door,” Peter said as he walked into the labs at the base of the tower and spotted Tony hunched over the desk, holograms spinning around the room and showing equations and statistics even Peter couldn’t really understand. “Also- how come I can get in here but Cap can’t?”

“Biometric sensors,” Tony muttered, not bother to turn around as his hands expanded a particular hologram and then clicked once in the air. JARVIS reeled a string of numbers off to him and he just nodded once, before sighing irritably. He barely seemed to have acknowledged Peter’s presence at all.

Peter raised his eyebrows, wondering when exactly Tony had reprogrammed all the codes in here. Although Steve hadn’t seem that surprised when he’d tried the overrides and found them useless. Guess he’d seen that coming.

He’d been a little miffed when Peter had just wandered up and walked right in, though. Good.

Wandering further in, Peter cocked his head at the mess of a room and picked up a post-it note taped to the wall; yet another set of math that left Peter blinking in confusion. He could... there were a few bits he understood, but then there were other symbols he hadn’t even seen before.

They might just be exclusive to Tony, though. Peter had been on that man’s keyboard before- there had barely been any keys that had looked even vaguely like English.

“What’re you working on?” He asked, pulling off his mask with a sigh of relief and dumping it on the desk as he passed it and then flopping onto a spinnny chair.

Tony didn’t say anything for a moment, and then side-eyed him with a blank face. “You do realise all of them know who you are, right? You don’t need to wear that mask.”

Peter jerked, eyes widening. “What? How? I- I didn’t-”

“Cap saw you when he came over and gave me a blood-sample to save your life when you went and got yourself poisoned. Rhodey picked you up when we both got kidnapped that time. Natasha and Clint have undoubtedly worked it out- they’re spies. Seeing as Bruce and Thor are still MIA, that’s the entire team there.” Tony waved a hand and turned back to his screen, picking up a pen and scribbling something down on the table absently. “It’s fine. They won’t use it against you. Wouldn’t dare.”

Peter frowned irritably, folding his arms. He’d been wearing that stupid mask around all the time for nothing? Brilliant, now he just looked like an idiot in front of all the Avengers. Not that he cared about the Avengers. But still.

He huffed, leaning back on the chair and kicking his feet up on the desk. A second later when Tony tutted and swiped them off again, he leaned forward and glanced at the holograms once more. “Seriously, Tony, what is all this?”

“Have you not noticed the massive crack in spacetime hanging a few feet above 7th Avenue?” Tony said a little snappily, glaring at him for a moment before turning back again, “I’m trying to, y’know, shut the damned thing. Or just work out what caused it.”

“Maybe it’s just... Thor trying to get back or something,” Peter tried, knowing before the words even left his mouth that it was weak. That diagnosis was confirmed a moment later when Tony actually paused what he was doing for a second in order to shot him a very dirty look.

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart or something?”

“I was just trying to cover all the bases!”

Surprisingly, that actually drew a little huff of laughter out of Tony. Inwardly, Peter let himself be pleased- he knew Tony was stressed, and was aware that the man didn’t exactly have the best relationship with big portals opening up in the middle of New York. Any sign of happiness was a win, in his book.

“Thor would’ve used a far more sophisticated method of transport than this,” Tony explained, leaning back on his chair and finally giving Peter his full attention, “and it doesn’t have any of the same energy signatures that Thor usually carries around with him after travelling. It’s not anywhere close to what... the, uh- the portal in 2012 was either. So. I’m confused, because we’ve dealt with this shit before and it’s always been relatively similar, and I could close those ones without- without freaking out too much, but this is- I can’t-”

Tony sucked in a sudden breath and swung away rapidly, facing the desk again and shutting his eyes. Peter just stayed where he was, unwilling to move and just put him even more on edge. Like he’d said- Tony Stark and portals didn’t really mix.

“Christ’s sake,” Tony muttered after a moment, running a hand across his face, “I thought we were over this. Your fault, Parker- if I hadn’t said what I was thinking out loud then everything would’ve been fine-”

“Maybe you’re just looking at it from the wrong angle,” Peter said quietly, ignoring the mumbled rambles from the man, “you’re looking at it as if you expect it to be exactly the same. But portals aren’t just... space ones, right? The origin could be from another point on this planet. Or- or it could be one that warps time rather than space. They’d both probably have way different readings to a spacey one, right?”

Tony looked at him blankly, and Peter’s spirits sunk a little. Right- because Tony had probably already thought of that, or it was just plain wrong and they were all the same, what the hell did Peter know about intergalactic gateways anyway, Jesus-

“That’s... not actually a half bad idea, Parker,” Tony said slowly, brow creasing just a little, “I- wow, yeah, how the fuck did I not come to that conclusion, that would be... yeah, okay, I think you might be onto someth-”

Of course, perfect timing as ever, at that moment JARVIS decided to blare the alarm out of every speaker in the tower and send both Peter and Tony jumping rather unceremoniously out of their chairs.

“What the fuck?” Peter yelled, as Tony’s eyes widened and he lurched forward, beginning to sprint toward the exit, “Tony, what’s happening-”

“Something’s coming,” Tony stopped, turning to him as he reached the door, “Peter, get your mask on. Shit’s about to go down.”

“JARVIS, what are we looking at?” Tony asked, and Peter didn’t take his eyes off the opening of the portal, but he cocked his head slightly to the side in order to listen anyway.

He was sandwiched between Iron Man and Captain America, both of them with their weapons raised and prepared to fight. He could see the rest of the team in his periphery- War Machine hovering above, Hawkeye and Black Widow perching on the rooftops nearby for surveillance. A bunch of SHIELD agents were surrounding them a few paces back, each one with a weapon trained on the entry point with unwavering intensity.

“Energy spikes are becoming more and more frequent, pointing toward a climax in roughly 24 seconds,” JARVIS reeled off, and Tony nodded once, hand remaining raised in the suit.

“And how long do you think it will remain open?”

“I’m afraid the readings are too sporadic for me to be able to predict, currently.”

With every passing second, Peter could feel his heartbeat getting that little bit faster; the tension of waiting just furthering his fear. He’d rather just get it over with and deal with whatever was coming than stand here and just... wait. They’d been doing this for the past three days anyway, he was tired of twiddling his thumbs.

“Spidey, you know the drill, yeah?” Tony asked for the third time, and Peter just rolled his eyes in response.

“If they don’t stop coming, I start running, yes, I know, you’ve told me like ten times-”

“That’s because there’s an 87% chance you’re going to ignore me and I am trying to forcibly drill it into you before that can happen.”

“Well I mean, if there is an alien army coming, then surely it won’t really matter if I run from it, because they’ll come find me anyway, so I really might as well stay and fight-”

“Don’t you dare, Peter, you promised-”

“Yeah yeah, okay!” Peter turned to him, raising his hands defensively before huffing, “I’ll stay back and web them like you said.”

He pouted and then turned back around, spotting Rogers eyeing them both as a shadow of amusement crossed his face. Technically, he was still not cool with Rogers on behalf of Tony, so he just shot him a dirty look and then moved his gaze back to the portal. “So if we survive this, can we get something to eat after? I’m starv-”

He was cut off when suddenly and without warning, the crack in the air suddenly spasmed and then became almost blindingly bright, lurching and churning around in the air like it was having some sort of fit. Everyone braced at once, and Peter heard the sound of about five hundred different safeties get flicked off the guns behind him. His breathing stuttered to an embarrassingly loud halt, and a second after that his view was almost entirely blocked by Tony, who’d stepped in front of him.

Everyone watched for a few seconds, before suddenly there was a loud crackling noise and-

Peter looked around Tony’s shoulder just in time to watch one single body fall out of the other side, landing on the floor with a quiet ‘Oof, fuck!’, and then...

Nothing else.

A moment later, the portal suddenly lurched once more, before snapping shut like a rubber band, leaving with nothing more than a sharp crack. That was that. Nothing else happened.

Peter stared at the body about fifteen feet away, curled up on the floor and only moving a little bit. All he could really see was a dark head of hair, and... and it definitely looked human, but then again, there were probably a ton of humanoid sort of creatures in the galaxy, so who knew-

“This is Iron Man, protector of planet Earth, and I’m ordering you put your hands on your head. Do not to make any sudden movements,” The sharp tones of Tony’s modulated voice rang out loudly through the street, “I don’t want you to get accidentally shot by three hundred different weapons.”

There was silence for a moment, and then the body on the floor groaned a little, straightening out on the floor slowly. “Holy shit, that was rough. I think I just lost about eight billion brain cells. Fuck.”

Peter made a face and turned to Cap, but found he was doing much the same. At least it wasn’t Peter who didn’t know what the fuck was going on, then.

“Hands on your head,” Tony said again, seemingly just as much at a loss for what to do as the rest of them.

The body stopped moving at that, apparently finally becoming aware of the situation he was in. Peter’s enhanced hearing picked up a small little ‘ah’ fall out of his mouth.

And then he looked up.

“What the fuck?” Tony blurted suddenly, faceplate snapping up to reveal his thoroughly confused face whilst Peter just gaped on his left. Because- because he’d seen a few pictures before in newspapers or photographs, and yeah, it was a lot younger and without the beard, but-

But that was definitely Tony Stark on the floor in front of them.

“What the fuck?” Tony- Younger Tony- parroted back, the exact same inflections and tone oh Fuck, that was so weird- “I... Dad?”

“Oh, now this is gonna be fun,” he heard Cap mutter on his right

So Tony had fallen through a portal. Thirty years ago, anyway.

The boy sat on the chair in front of them was eerily similar to the man with his arms folded at Peter’s left. Probably because, y’know, they were the same. Positive DNA results and everything- that boy was Tony Stark, without a shadow of a doubt.

He was also kind of an asshole.

“Okay, so when am I gonna be able to leave this fucking basement?” He asked through a groan, letting his head loll back against the chair and and swinging his legs up onto the desk. “No offence, but you two aren’t exactly the most riveting company.”

“Hm- how about when I manage to get World Security to pipe the fuck down and convince them that no, you’re not going to blow up the planet and yes, you are actually a human. Do you even understand how much trouble you’ve just fucking caused? I’m trying to stop the US military shovelling you into a van to dissect you- me- whatever the fuck!” Tony threw his hands into the air jerkily, before sighing and then leaning against the wall. “How did this even... I never jumped through a portal when I was fifteen. I would remember jumping through a portal when I was fifteen.”

Younger Tony just shrugged. “I mean, depends how wasted you were-”

“Just answer the question, smart-alec,” Tony asked with a sigh. Peter eyed up the younger one curiously, until the moment Younger-Tony glanced his way, and then he snapped his eyes back down to the floor. It was... it was too weird, to see this teenager and think ‘Tony Stark’.

“I was curious to see if I could do it,” was all the kid responded with, a vacant shrug and then a stifled yawn coming from his mouth a moment later. “Turns out I can. Which is cool, ‘cause I’m gonna make a fortune off this-”

“No you’re not,” Tony told him with a shake of his head and a little snort, “I just told you, kid, we didn’t ever invent time travel. It doesn’t happen.”

“Then what’s happened here?” Peter waved a hand in the other boy’s direction, turning to the older Tony with curiosity. “I mean- it had to have happened. Because he’s here. This isn’t a hallucination.”

Younger Tony eyed him up for a moment, head cocking. “The random guy’s right. Once you eliminate the impossible - that being, that I just magically appeared here randomly and with no intention- whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

Tony shot his younger self a dirty look. “Don’t quote Sherlock at me, I’m too stressed right now.”

“So has something in history been changed?” Peter turned to Tony in question, brow furrowed, “d’you think someone in this time went back and gave him the technology or something?”

“Possibly, but if that’s the sort of portal that they needed to do it, then it would’ve shown up on one of my registers, so I don’t see how they would’ve been able to get away with it.”

“Maybe... maybe it’s you but like, a magic version? D’you think it’s Loki, maybe?”

“Again, possible, but why? I don’t think-”

“Hello, yes, I am actually in the room, you know?” Younger Tony waved at them and leaned forward, unimpressed, “You can talk to me as if I’m actually here, and not just some deaf apparition. God, I thought people over here would be different.”

He folded his arms and glared at the two of them when they just stared in silence. “I can write out the math for you, if it’ll help you two understand better. We all learn at different paces- although seeing this kinda makes me worry for my future,” he waved a hand at Tony, and then shot a look off to Peter, “looks like I lost a few million brain cells and had a kid. Jesus, what went wrong?”

Peter resisted the urge to jump up and automatically defend Tony from- well, himself- and instead just narrowed his eyes and shot the kid a dirty look. “I- I’m not his kid.”

That, at least, caused Younger Tony to pause. “Then who the hell are you?” He said in the end.

“None of your business,” Tony snapped before Peter could reply, “we don’t know how dangerous any of this information could be. We don’t know how long it’s going to take to get him home, either, or whether his ‘math’ will even hold up on the journey back. Best just keep him here and make sure he doesn’t blow anything up for now, ‘til I can sort this.”

“Uh, excuse me?” Younger Tony said, “you think I’m staying here?”

Peter watched Tony shut his eyes in exasperation for a moment, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. “Unless you want to die of a stress-related heart attack in twenty years, please, could you just listen to me?”

The Younger Tony rolled his eyes- a hauntingly familiar gesture- and then when it became apparent he wasn’t going to respond to that, Tony sighed. “And take your feet off the fucking desk.”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s my desk, I can put my feet on it if I want.”

Tony gaped at him for a second, before just shaking his head and then blinking a few times. “You’re not me yet. Doesn’t count. Feet off.”

“Why am I not you?”

“I have experience.”

“I have your DNA.”

“Yeah, and so did Howard.”

“You say that like you don’t think you’re exactly the same as him,” the younger Tony leaned back casually on his chair, swinging off on two legs and inspecting the room whilst Real Tony just completely froze up in front of him. He looked like he’d been punched in the face.

Peter looked between to the two of them; Young Tony’s apparent nonchalance, and Old Tony’s complete shock, and decided that he needed to say something, anything to just... diffuse this. Before he could, though, he heard Tony cough and then suddenly move back into life, like his whole system had just rebooted. “I need to- gotta try and fix this,” he muttered to himself, turning back around jerkily, “get that damn portal back open again, get you- me- home I’ll be, uh, talking to some contacts upstairs, probably-” he waved a hand absently to his elevator doors, and then pointed back to his young self. “Don’t leave this room, understand? Peter, make sure he sits his ass here ans stays.”

In response, the younger Tony stuck his middle finger up. Tony just looked at it for a second, before laughing humorlessly. There was a coldness in his eyes that Peter rarely ever saw- usually only saved for really repulsive villains and people he truly despised.

“God, no wonder everyone fucking hated us,” was all he ended up saying, voice barely even above a hiss- and then he was leaving, turning on his heel and walking off without another word.

For whatever reason, that seemed to hit his younger self in the weak spot, because this time it was him who temporarily allowed his face to show the hurt. It lasted longer than the Tony that Peter knew, and he realised with a lurch that this kid probably wasn’t as used to hiding things like that. Not yet, anyway.

Jesus, that was a bit morbid. And kind of... really sad.

“Hey,” Peter said as casually as he could, “uh, uh... I’m Peter. That’s probably safe enough to tell you, right? I hope so.”

Tony just looked at him for a second, his eyes analytic, and then he turned away without bothering to respond. He sat up off the chair smoothly and then retraced the steps that his older version had just walked, before reaching the door at the end. Young, unscarred hands traced the hinges, and Peter watched as Tony’s face creased with curiosity. “This is pretty cool,” he muttered to himself, “maybe I’m not totally stupid in the future.”

“You’re not even remotely stupid, actually,” Peter told him, frowning, “Tony- you- are the smartest guy on the planet. Probably.”

But rather than look impressed, Tony just rolled his eyes. His face looked angry. “Of course I’d say that,” he laughed, “I really do take after Howard, huh?”

Peter stopped. “That’s not what I- hey, wait, what are you doing?” He stood up suddenly, realising that the other boy had pulled out the keypad from within the door and was observing it inquisitively, “you can’t get out you know. No one goes through this door without Tony’s express permission.”

Finally, Tony actually looked at him- if only to laugh at him, admittedly, but still. “And who do you think I am?” He asked in amusement, before turning his head back to the keypad and then beginning to run his fingers over it, biting his lip in concentration. “Now- what would an older, more boring version of myself have as a password?”

Peter watched him, blinking rapidly. There was no way he’d get it, surely.

A few seconds later, the door slid open easily, and Tony grinned as he stepped over the threshold.

Fuck.

“Whoah, no, okay, hold up,” Peter said, going out to grab his arm- but Tony jerked away wildly, eyes going wide and hands coming up defensively.

“No, what are you doing?” Tony said in panic, “if you touch me, you could very well create a rift in time that might suck this world into a completely different reality. For the love of God, I really don’t want to be responsible for that- my Dad will never let me forget it.”

Rapidly, Peter jerked back in horror. Shit- see, this is what Tony had meant by ‘way out of our depth’. God, if Peter just touching him was going to do all that, then what the hell would be exposed to the outside world do?

“You can’t go out,” Peter said, making his voice firm, “you’re a danger to this world.”

Tony only rolled his eyes, and Peter held back the urge to grind his teeth. This Tony seemed particularly... difficult, to say the least. “Oh, don’t be such a fucking baby,” he waved it off easily and then shoved his hands into his pockets, “I’m not going to stay where he put me like some good little puppy. I get enough of that at home, thank you very much.”

“Well if you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t your home,” Peter told him, before pausing, “okay, well it is your home, but not yet. For now, it’s someone else’s. Someone who knows what they’re doing-”

“Oh, and I don’t?” Tony snapped, scoffing, “I was the one clever enough to make it here, wasn’t I? And I don’t see future-me with any ideas on how to get back just yet, so who’s actually the smartest here, huh?”

And with that, he ambled forward and then started to hurry up the stairs casually, looking around him curiously as he went. Peter spluttered helplessly, looking up to the ceiling. “JARVIS? Can you call Mr. Stark and tell him that our guest is, uh, making his way up to the penthouse?”

“Cancel that, JARVIS,” the younger Tony in front of him added before the AI could even respond, shooting Peter a smug grin, “Primary user here, remember?”

Peter groaned. He had no idea how... well, how dislikeable Tony was when he was younger. “Are you actively trying to be an asshole, or does it just come naturally?” He snapped, following up the stairs at a safe distance.

Tony paused, looking behind him with a shrug. “I mean, yeah. I’m a Stark. What else do we do?”

Then he turned and kept walking, hands tapping out a nonchalant pattern against the handrail of the stairwell. Peter just watched, slightly thrown by the answer. There were... well, there were a lot more things that Stark’s did, Peter knew from experience.

They came to the elevator at the end of the next floor, and Tony jumped into it, turning around and then blocking off the door with his body before Peter could follow. “Ah ah, this is for Tony’s only,” he said with a sympathetic shrug, “you’re gonna have to take the stairs, bud.”

Peter stumbled back, making sure he was out of touching distance. “What? No. Let me in right now, Tony.”

“No,” Tony told him simply, looking up, “hey JARVIS? Can you take me up to the penthouse please?”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Peter cursed, shooting evils at the younger version of what was to become Iron Man, “why the fuck are you being so insufferable? We’re trying to help you!”

At that, for some reason, Tony’s eyes went cold. “I don’t need anyone’s help,” was all he said, his voice blunt and cold before the doors closed with a slick slide and left Peter staring at his own chrome reflection.

He could hardly believe it. That was Tony? Really? Jesus- he had a lot of work to do on his personality before he became the guy that Peter knew today. What a fucking asshole.

Grinding his teeth, Peter turned on his heel and then ran over to the next set of stairs, jumping up them rapidly. Younger Tony had no idea he was enhanced, and that he could easily beat the elevator to the top floor. That, at least, would be satisfying to see. Wipe that smug grin off his stupid genius face.

Peter ascended rapidly, thinking as he went about where his phone was and how he was going to tell the older Tony that his young self had managed to break his password and just walk out with ease. Considering the stress he was under, it probably wouldn’t go down very well.

Peter sighed, jumping up the last set of stairs and then walking into the penthouse just as the elevator doors slid open and revealed Tony once more.

They looked at one another for a moment, and then Tony’s eyebrows raised. “Well that was fast.”

Without bothering to answer, Peter scowled and then flicked his wrist, sending a strand of webbing over to the elevator buttons and covering it in a sticky fluid. Now Tony wasn’t going anywhere without sticking himself to the web for six hours.

Except rather than look annoyed, Tony spun around, watching the web in fascination. “Oh wow,” he said through a breath, peering down, “how did you do that? Did that come out of you? Are you a superhuman?”

“Get out of the elevator,” Peter said coldly, putting himself into Spiderman’s shoes rather than his own. Peter Parker wasn’t equipped to deal with this- but his superhero alter-ego probably could.

Tony folded his arms. It was a stand-off. “No.”

Peter stared unwaveringly, but Tony just stared back. “Get out, now,” he said again, harder.

Tony’s eyes flashed, and there was something desperate there. “What are you gonna fucking do, huh?” He asked. “Lock me in the basement for the third fucking time? I’ll just find another way to get out, go into a different universe, a different time like I did before. You won’t even touch me for fear of ripping your own universe to shreds, so good luck with that, by the way.”

Peter opened his mouth to return something about not needing physical contact to make Tony stay put, but he stopped as his brain stumbled over something else Tony had said. “Wait- ‘third time’? What do you mean, lock you in for the third time?”

At that, Tony’s face slackened for a moment, looking surprised as if he’d been caught out. “I mean like earlier,” he said with a wave of his hand, smoothing his expression back down, “when you brought me into that little workshop and told me stay there.”

“No you didn’t,” Peter said, “you said you’d find a way to go into a different universe. Not just ‘break out’, you said a whole other universe.” He blinked. “And anyway, we’ve only locked you in there once before, not twice, so you wouldn’t be going in for a third time unless you’d already been... is that why you’re here? Were you escaping something?”

Something clicked in Peter’s head, and he realised that this Tony must have been from an alternate reality. That was why Peter’s Tony had no recollection of it happening. In their universe, this situation must never even have arisen in the first place.

The Tony that Peter was currently watching just remained silent, his jaw wound tightly shut. “None of your fucking business,” he said, “I don’t know you. You could easily sell any information I give you.”

This Tony was untrusting. He was edgy, ready to bolt. Peter was just now beginning to get a sort of scared-animal vibe off him. He was snapping and snarling because he felt backed into a corner. Helpless. It was in the eyes. This younger Tony had yet to learn how to properly school them, and Peter knew that if there was one way to know what any Tony Stark was really feeling, it was to look for what was in his eyes. They told more than he would ever let on verbally.

Peter was silent for a moment as Tony glared threateningly. The other boy was tall; nearly the same size as his adult version, and his hair was a little longer than Tony kept it now, curled in around the edges. His face was unnervingly familiar, and yet different as well. Peter wasn’t sure what he thought when he looked at this Tony, but he knew that trying to force him into complying was undoubtedly not going to work. If Peter wanted him to listen, he was going to have to try something else.

“You hungry?” He said, decision made as he glanced over to the kitchen. Stocked, definitely. They could find something.

That made Tony take pause for a moment, at the very least. “What?”

“Do you want something to eat?” Peter asked, starting to walk over to the cupboards, “I figure we might be here for a while, and Tony- my Tony- said I can have whatever I want, so-” he made a pleased face as he pulled down a jar of peanut butter, “-you like PB & J’s?”

At that point, it seemed Tony was completely thrown by the swift change in conversation. He was looking blankly at the jar in Peter’s hand. “I’m not staying here,” he declared with a shake of his head, “you’re not making me stay anywhere.”

Peter didn’t look up. “JARVIS, maximum deadlock override, Peter Parker, User 98347. Freeze tower activity. No one gets in or out.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Parker,” The AI replied smoothly, sounding somewhat smug.

Tony blinked as all the windows blacked out, and the sounds of various locking mechanisms clicked into place around the room. “What? No. JARVIS, override the override, Tony Stark, Primary User-”

“Won’t work,” Peter sat back on the chair and smiled, “that is my emergency code. Nothing gets through that for three hours, unless I either break or renew it. Not even Tony- or you.”

There was a long silence as Peter pulled out some bread and began whistling a tune.

“Who are you?” Tony asked again, sounding completely bewildered, “you’re not his son, but he gives you all that power? I wouldn’t ever do that. For anyone. Ever. What- are you like his Godson? His nephew? A fucking grandson? Oh God, if you’re a grandson I’m going to kill myself right now.”

“Answer my question first, then I’ll answer yours,” Peter told him, putting down the knife and turning to him calmly. He couldn’t win this through abrasiveness, but Peter was a natural-born pacifier, a diplomat. There were other ways to approach a problem. Like with sandwiches, for instance. “What were you running from? We might be able to help you.”

Tony just laughed, folding his arms. His protective walls were up a mile high, and it was going to take some doing before they came down enough for Peter to get through. This... this was Tony at his rawest, at his most vulnerable.

“Was it Howard,” he took a calculated shot in the dark when Tony still refused to answer. He knew that Tony’s dad was a sore subject for him- figured it might be a universal constant. “Did he... were you running from him or something?”

“I wasn’t fucking running, jesus, I’m not a coward and I’m most certainly not afraid of him,” Tony spat angrily, his blank facade breaking for a second as he looked away. When he turned and glanced back at Peter, his eyes were glinting dangerously. “How do you even know about him anyway? You a fan or something?”

“Opposite,” Peter told him easily, “he’s a prick, as far as I know. Tony- my Tony- hated him too. And I trust his judgement, so.”

There was a long silence, the Tony in front of him obviously still too wary to admit anything. Peter made sure not to look too disheartened by that. At the very least, he just had to keep Tony distracted enough so that he wouldn’t end up wandering off into the dangerous streets of New York, and that wouldn’t be possible if he got Tony’s back up. Instead, Peter slid the plate of sandwiches over the counter toward the other boy, landing it perfectly in front of him.

“Eat up,” he said easily. When Tony just looked at it in confusion, Peter smiled encouragingly. “Come on, you must be hungry. It’s been hours since you arrived here. And it’s not poisoned- you saw me make it.”

Tony looked up at him. “Why are you doing this?” He asked.

That, admittedly, threw Peter off a little. He frowned. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“Why are you being nice to me?” Tony folded his arms. “I’m only being an asshole to you. I don’t get it. What are you hoping to achieve? Like you said, we’re from different universes. Being nice to me won’t get you any brownie points for your own Tony.”

Peter shrugged, looking down at the counter and pushing some of the crumbs around with his finger. “It’s not about getting brownie points,” he said easily, “it’s about being kind to people, because you never know what might be going through their head. Assholes are usually assholes for a reason.” This Universe’s Tony acts like that when he doesn’t want people to see he’s scared, Peter didn’t say.

He didn’t look up; just got to work making his own sandwich and then bit back a smile when he saw the younger Tony tentatively pick up a slice of bread and then lift it to his mouth. Success.

They ate in heavy silence. Peter sort of wanted to turn the radio on, but he felt like then it might be too obvious that he was feeling awkward, which in turn would only make it even more awkward. So he kept himself seated and just chewed on his sandwich, sneaking quick glances Tony’s way every few seconds. It really was a trip, seeing the man Peter knew so young and different, but still so similar at the same time.

“Is this universe’s Tony gay?” Peter heard about a minute in, causing him to promptly choke on his mouth of food. He bit back on a cough and forced it down his throat, before gasping and looking up at the younger Tony with watery eyes. The boy was just glaring at him, fierce and yet blank at the same time.

Peter swallowed. “No,” he said with a shake of his head, “he’s bisexual though. At least, that’s what he told me.”

Tony’s eyes widened a little. “So he’s out?” He asked, almost in a whisper. “Does he... what do people say about that? I mean, I assume he’s as famous here as I am over in my own world, what with all the fancy tech and stuff, so like... how does that work? Don’t people tell him to-” Tony waved a hand awkwardly, “you know, resign and stuff?”

“What?” Peter asked incredulously, “no, of course not! You’re... well, you’re from a different time. Things have changed. It’s a work in progress, but- but things are okay now. You can be out and still be, well, you.” He paused, before cocking his head and frowning deeply at the other boy. “What is this about, Tony?”

Tony didn’t say anything. He just looked down at his sandwich with a scowl, like it had personally offended him. “Just curious,” he said eventually, a clipped laugh leaving his mouth, “I mean, I kiss some college guy on a night out one time and Howard tells me I’ve ruined my whole career and he’s never going to speak to me again, but this Tony, apparently, can be whoever he wants and not have fuck-all happen. Great.”

Peter blinked at him. “Don’t be Goddamn stupid,” he blurted in the end, which made Tony blink at him in surprise, “you’ve got no idea what he might have had to go through to get where he is now- what you might go through. All you’re seeing now is the end result. Trying to compare the two is just dumb, and you are a lot of things, but dumb definitely isn’t one of them.”

Tony didn’t respond. He turned his head to the side and then looked at the wall instead, his face empty, his jaw clenched. Peter, admittedly, wasn’t too sure what to do. Trying to navigate a Tony that was nearly thirty years younger was weird in a hell of a lot of ways, and he was having to relearn a lot of stuff as he went. This Tony was quicker to get his back up, he was more easily aggravated. And right now, they were in a minefield of potential explosions just waiting to go off.

And of course, right when Peter had decided that maybe the best option would be a tactical retreat and perhaps a phone-call back to the older version of Tony, his younger counterpart decided to do the exact opposite of what Peter had expected: Talk.

“He locked me in my workshop,” was what Tony decided to pop up randomly with, making Peter jump and then turn back to him with wide eyes, “Howard, when he saw the news report of me and that other guy- totally flipped his shit. Told me I wasn’t coming out of there until I promised not to ever talk to him again. But- but Michael is my friend, I didn’t want to-” for a second, Tony just looked completely and utterly miserable- but then his face hardened and Peter watched how his fist curled on the tabletop and his spine straightened. He grinned harshly. “So I decided I was going to get out on my own. He had the override codes and the walls were five feet of solid steel, but he couldn’t stop me from using all of my equipment.”

Peter looked at him, resisting the urge to gape. “So you created- what, a teleport?”

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, if that’s what you wanna call it. Instead of just agreeing to what he said, which would generally have just been a hell of a lot easier, I sat my ass down and teleported into a whole other universe, whilst also igniting an international incident upon arrival.” He rolled his eyes. “And of course, what happens once I’m here, free, away from that single room that Howard had fucking left me in for four days? Well. I’m put straight back into some other stupid basement and told to stay there, again.”

Peter leaned forward. There were about a billion different questions running through his head, and the scientist in him was going positively nuts over this- but he figured, first and foremost, this Tony simply needed a friend. “I mean,” he started with a small shrug, “you managed to get out of this one pretty easily, though. And like. You literally created universe-hopping just to piss your dad off. That’s... well, I don’t even know what that is. But it’s pretty cool.”

Of course Tony was cool as a kid. Tony was just cool, full stop. The most Peter had managed to do yet was accidentally get radiation poisoning. After that, it was mostly just being beat up a lot and trying to act like that was supposed to happen. This Tony had jumped through a hole in the universe already, and he was the same age as Peter.

Damn. Way to make a guy re-evaluate his life.

Tony looked at him for a moment as Peter thought all those thoughts in his head, but then he did something very unusual. He laughed. Peter made sure not to look surprised by it- laughing was normal. Just because Tony had seemed like he’d wanted to punch Peter (and everyone) in the face since his arrival didn’t mean that it was impossible to get him to laugh.

“Yeah,” Tony admitted with a small grin, “yeah, that is pretty cool, isn’t it?”

“It’s also like... completely insane,” Peter added with a shrug, “and incredibly dangerous. I mean. It’s still the eighties for you. You guys have barely even touched at string theory yet. You’re completely crazy, trying to go this hard just to spite Howard Stark. You could have just... I dunno, teleported six meters to the left.”

Tony cocked his head and leaned back on his chair. His grin was full now; cocky. “Hey, I’m Tony Stark. I don’t do shit by halves.”

Peter was hit with a wave of familiarity- he’d heard his own Tony say that so many times now he’d lost count. Maybe the two of them weren’t as different as Peter might have thought at the beginning.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, looking behind him, “we’ve got some time to kill- you wanna watch how far the visual effects on movies have come along since the eighties?”

Peter wasn’t 100% sure whether it would work, because Tony always claimed to hate the movies Peter forced him to sit through and watch- but this Tony’s eyes went wide with curiosity, and he slowly rose from his chair with a nod. “Oh hell yeah,” he said, “hey- are there any more Star Wars movies that’ve come out yet? I love those ones.”

Peter smiled, storing that away as blackmail for later when Tony tried to say how terrible they were. “Yeah! Come on- they’re all available on hand, so you can pick which one you wanna watch.”

Tony nodded and stood up when Peter did, following him over to the communal living room. His eyes moved rapidly as they walked, absorbing everything and anything in sight, including the skyline as they passed the windows. His eyes were wide, fascinated. Tony’s neverending curiosity was obviously a lifelong habit.

They both sat on the couch, Tony shuffling a little nervously as Peter grabbed the remote and then flicked the tv screen on. He couldn’t help but grin at the way Tony’s eyes lit up in wonder, watching the HD, flatscreen tv pull up a crystal clear image. “Don’t dismantle it,” Peter threw over to the other boy, “I can get you a mobile phone if you wanna check on of those those- oh, wait, that won’t blow up the universe or something, will it? I don’t- I don’t really wanna be responsible for that, you know?”

Tony just rolled his eyes. “No, I’m pretty sure we’re good,” he poked Peter with his foot good-naturedly, and then just burst out laughing when Peter screamed and threw himself back, landing on the floor with a heavy thump.

“What did you just do?” Peter yelled, “You just ripped a hole in the- in the...” he saw Tony’s amused face, and the penny dropped. He sat up indignantly. “You made that up, didn’t you,” he said, unimpressed.

Tony shot him a slightly apologetic face, but it was sort of defeated by the laugh that came later. “I mean, I was trying to escape at the time.”

“I just thought I’d ripped my universe apart,” Peter said grouchily, getting back up to his feet, “you’re not funny, you know.”

Again, Tony pulled a face, shrugging and then lifting up his fingers. “Tiny bit funny,” he said, eyes twinkling.

Peter sighed, sitting tentatively back on the couch. “Shut up.”

Tony chuckled again, and a few minutes later Peter had pulled up the Star Wars films and was quietly running Tony through some of the cool new things they’d developed since he’d last watched a movie. The boy listened to him avidly, his shoulders relaxing with every technical and scientific word Peter spoke. This was the language Tony knew and understood, after all. They talked until the opening credits came up, when Tony’s focus rapidly shifted, smacking Peter’s arm in boyish excitement as he shuffled to face the screen with starstruck eyes. Peter hid his grin into his hand- he was never letting the older version of Tony forget this.

Tony Stark was a Star Wars fanboy.

The movie went down a hit. Tony was enraptured throughout the entirety of The Force Awakens; asking Peter a string of questions about the cinematography and how they managed to make it all look so realistic. His smile was huge, his eyes bright- a totally different person to the standoffish, cutting kid who’d fallen out of the portal a few hours ago. Peter couldn’t help but be proud of that. Okay, so he hadn’t fixed the problem, but he’d definitely helped- and he’d also made a lost, afraid and alone fifteen-year-old kid feel like he was safe. That was the whole point of being a hero, right? Making people feel safe.

By the time the first film was over, Tony had a billion questions on the tip of his tongue, all of them spilling to try and get out first. “So is Rey related to Luke? How is the resolution on this TV so good? Are there other films that have come out? What kind of editing programs were used here? The CGI was fucking insane, you gotta tell me how it’s done.”

“Tony, I don’t know, I don’t specialise in film,” Peter responded with a small laugh, we could look it up though.” He pulled out his phone from his back pocket and then shot a look over to Tony. “You know what this is?”

Tony cocked his head, lifting a hand and then looking at Peter in askance. When Peter handed it over, Tony’s eyes squinted and he frowned, before looking somewhat dazed. “It’s like a tiny computer, right?” he asked, his fingers gently settling down on the screen. When they pressed over an app and opened it up, he jumped and his eyes went even wider. “Oh, this is so cool. How much stuff can it do?”

“Pretty much anything,” Peter answered with a grin, taking it back and then pulling google up. “It’s actually a cell phone- but you’re right in that it’s also a small computer. In this age, we can condense all our tech into slim stuff like this. You’re one of the front-runners in this market, actually. This a StarkPhone,” he waved the sleek black phone through the air. “It’s brilliant. Voice-activated, facial recognition, built-in virus protector. Really cool stuff.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open. “That’s a cell-phone?”

“Yup. But we’re not using it for that; we’re using it for the internet. You- I mean, I take it you know what the internet is, right? The World Wide Web?” Peter asked, trying to do the math in his head. “You might know it as ARPANET.”

Tony pulled a face, and then grinned sheepishly. “Oh- the military system? Yeah- I went to one of the bases where they were running it and, uh, may have tapped into their systems to try and see what they were doing. So. I know a little about it, yeah. Although if anyone ever finds my floppy disk, I’m dead. US armed forces don’t particularly like kids knowing all their secrets.”

Peter blinked rapidly. “So you basically just created the first computer virus.”

“Virus?” Tony frowned in confusion, before laughing a little. “That’s actually pretty fitting. I made the computer sick, yeah, I guess so. Well- I mean it wasn’t malicious. I was just curious. So I looked over some of their files and found a way to slip in through the system.”

Peter didn’t even know what to say to that. God- fifteen and Tony was already making life hell for the Government. He had to hand it to the guy- Tony Stark had been a genius from birth, quite clearly.

“Okay, well anyway,” Peter decided to move on from that, otherwise they’d never be able to get through his explanation, “What I was trying to say was that it’s developed now. The internet is like... ARPANET on steroids. Lots and lots of steroids. Look, I’ll show you how to-”

“What the fuck are you two doing up here?”

Peter jumped, turning around in surprise and spotting the older Tony, stood by the elevator and staring at the two of them. “Mr. Stark,” Peter began, suddenly wondering how to explain it. Tony had left one explicit message: Keep his younger version in the workshop. That hadn’t gone down too great.

At his side, Tony’s younger counterpart tensed up. “Watching movies? Is that a fucking breach of the Geneva convention or something? ‘Cause your face makes it looks like we’re sat here trying to kill each other.”

Peter shot him a look and then put a hand on his shoulder placatingly. “Relax,” he said before jumping off the couch and then hurrying over to the older Tony who was glaring at him across the room. He grinned nervously, wringing his hands. “Okay, so I know what you’re think-”

“Seriously, Parker?” Tony hissed, and yeah, when the last name was pulled out Peter knew he was in shit, “I told you, I said ‘keep him in the workshop’, that was all I asked- “

“Yeah, and then he got out because he is you, he knew your passcode!” Peter said, waving his hands as he spoke quietly, “hey, listen, he’s not gonna do anything stupid anyway, I’m sure of it. I think we just got off on the wrong foot with him. He was scared. You know what you’re like when you’re scared.”

“Yeah, a mouthy asshole who tends to go off on the deep end and put other people’s lives in danger!” Tony snapped, “did you not see what happened to my Malibu mansion last time I got scared? It was blown up and Pep almost fucking died! And that little shit is even more reckless than I am, he ripped a hole in the fucking universe-”

“-Hey, Tony, just listen to me,” Peter interrupted him, putting his hands up and then clasping them together, “listen listen listen- he was running. From your dad. He’s from an alternate universe, which’ll be why you don’t remember it happening, but yeah. It was because he was escaping.”

Tony’s features froze, hands ceasing their movement through his hair. His eyes sharpened. “What?”

“Howard locked him in a workshop because he- uh- kissed a guy,” Peter said, shrugging and glancing back at the younger doppelganger, who was now sat tensely staring at the wall, although Peter didn’t doubt he was trying as hard as he could to listen in. “He was trying to get out. He ended up here.”

Tony was looking at the back of his teenage head blankly, his jaw clenched tight. He glanced briefly back to Peter. “He told you this?”

“Yeah.”

Tony remained stoic for a moment, before sighing and then rubbing his face. “Jesus. That’s- that’s still really fucking reckless of him. And... brilliant. Wow. Wish I’d thought of that.” He smiled tightly, side-eyeing the kid again. “How did you get that out of him? I never used to tell anyone shit about... well, anything.”

Peter swallowed, his chest suddenly feeling a little tight. He hated thinking of anyone being in a situation like that. Especially someone he cared about. “Dunno,” he mumbled, “I gave him a sandwich, I guess.”

“You-” Tony blinked, and then huffed, bumping shoulders with Peter, “of course you did. PB&J, I assume.”

“Of course.”

Tony nodded in satisfaction. “You know me well.”

Peter grinned, and then turned back to the couch behind him, where the younger Tony was still sat rigidly. “You should talk to him,” he said to the older man, “I think he could do with a bit of reassuring that... well, that things are gonna get better. He’s really on edge right now. And I’m pretty sure he just thinks you hate him.”

Tony bit his lip and rolled his eyes. “I’m not good at that stuff,” he said sullenly, “least of all when it comes to trying to give myself pep talks.” His foot tapped out a staccato rhythm for a second, looking over to the couch before his eyes squinted and he leaned forward a little. “Is that asshole disassembling my TV remote?” Tony blurted a moment later, suddenly walking forward.

Peter just sighed, turning to see Young-Tony fiddling with something black, holding it up to the light as he poked a screwdriver into it (where the hell had he even gotten that?) “I mean, it’s not exactly like you are innocent of that crime,” he called out to the older version as he walked over, “if there’s something unknown in your grasp, you’ve poked it with something in under two seconds.”

Tony flipped him off behind his back as he wandered away, over to his younger counterpart who was now watching the man was sharp, cold eyes. The tension was back in his shoulders again.

Sensing that this may not be a conversation for him, Peter turned awkwardly to the kitchen and then started making coffee for the three of them. However, his enhanced hearing meant that it didn’t really make much difference- Peter heard the two of them start to talk anyway. It was sharp and blunt on the younger Tony’s end at first, unwilling to open up. But as the coffee boiled, Peter heard the voice start to soften a little. Started to accept the Older version’s words and actually listen as he spoke.

“My version of Howard used to lock me in the shoe cupboard,” older Tony’s voice drifted across the room, blunt and casual, and Peter felt his hands stumble briefly over the mugs as he set them down. “Sometimes I’d have to sleep there, when he was really pissed. So- you know- I do get it. You could’ve just told me at the beginning. I mean, it’s still kind of a hassle trying to put out the fires, but... you know. I would have been less of an asshole to you.”

Younger Tony huffed. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Oh hell, don’t I know it. I’m three times your age and I still feel that way. But... you know, we are the same person. It’s not exactly as if I could have judged you.”

Younger Tony was quiet for a moment as Peter poured out the first cup, and then he heard the tentative voice speak up once more. “Peter, uh- he said you... you were out. Bisexual.”

“He’s right,” Older Tony responded cheerfully, “forcibly outed at 21, horribly conscious of for a few months after, then decided I didn’t give a shit, I was richer than anyone talking crap against me anyway, and never looked back after that.” Peter grinned to himself as he looked down at the counter, hearing the soft edge in Tony’s voice. “It’s okay these days. Or at least- way better than it is for you now. Takes a while to get there. But I could marry a guy now, if I wanted.”

Younger Tony gasped. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. I’ve dated a few of ‘em openly, too. So anyway- what I’m trying to say is that Howard doesn’t know shit. He’s an old drunk conservative bastard and you don’t need to listen to shit he says.” Tony huffed, and when Peter glanced up at them, he saw the man waving his hands around the room. “I mean, look at you. You’ve already jumped universes at fifteen. What’s he done?”

“Created Captain America,” younger Tony said sullenly, and Peter rolled his eyes before looking up at them both.

“Well Cap’s an asshole anyway, so you’re good!” He called out to them from the kitchen, waving at his face, “he gave me a black eye!”

Young Tony froze, and Peter realised that the kid, in his time, still thought that Captain America was long dead. “Wait,” he said slowly, “he... how old are you?”

“Okay, let’s not even go there,” the older Tony said hurriedly, nodding his head sharply to Peter as a blush crawled up his face, “we do not want to open up that can of sexually frustrated Teen-Tony worms. Kid-” Peter looked up, but Tony waved him off and then pointed to his younger self, “no, sorry, this kid- we need to get you back to the workshop. I think I know how to get you home, but I might need some of your input.”

Peter wandered over and handed them both coffees, smiling at the two of them. “This is still so weird, by the way,”

On his left, the younger Tony snorted. “Yeah, imagine how I feel.”

“It’s safe to say this is a pretty universally strange experience,” Older Tony finished, taking the coffee gratefully from Peter’s hand, “come on, Kiddos. Let’s go do some science. Also, Peter, I really hope you haven’t left anything of yours with him. A single transferred object going from one universe to the other could weaken the multiversal walls and cause a complete inward collapse.”

The two boys stopped, glancing at one another nervously, Peter wracking his brains to try and think. He hoped skin cells didn’t count- otherwise the Young Tony would probably have to go through a surgical bleaching before he left.

Then the Old Tony laughed, patting them both on the shoulders. “Just fucking with you, don’t worry.”

Peter rolled his eyes, smacking Tony’s hand away gently. “Can you two stop doing that, please? That’s twice I’ve thought the universe was going to implode today.”

Both the Tonys laughed, and the younger one bumped Peter’s shoulder fondly as they walked. “Hey,” he murmured quietly, hands going to his pockets and cheeks going a little pink as he smiled, “uhh- so I wanted to say thanks.”

“For what?” Peter asked, looking back at him.

Tony shrugged, watching as his older replica walked on ahead down the stairs. He swallowed and looked away a second later. “You didn’t have a reason to be nice to me, but you were anyway. That was... well. It was probably more than I would have done.”

Peter frowned, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt absently. “Well, you would have done the same if it had been me,” he said, and when Tony just looked at him with a small note of confusion on his face, Peter waved a hand down the stairwell where the other version was, “I mean- you will. I think. God, it’s weird- do you think there’s a Peter Parker in your universe at all?”

“Hope so,” Tony told him with a smile, nudging him again, “you’re pretty cool.”

“You’ll regret saying that in thirty years or so,” Peter responded, “Future Tony always says I’m a nerd. Or a disaster. Haven’t heard ‘cool’ used until now though.”

It’s funny, the things that stayed the same from universe to universe. Tony’s laugh, for instance- it filled the whole room, a warm giggly thing that was infectious to everyone around him. Peter watched this younger, wrinkle-less, skinnier version of Tony as the guy chuckled to himself, and thought briefly about how he actually looked pretty similar to Peter himself.

Except maybe with a weirder fashion sense. The 80′s was a wild time.

Hours later, and the machine in Tony’s workshop had been built and was whirring to life, after all three of them had worked through the night in order to recreate what Young Tony had been talking to them about. Peter had been fascinated whilst watching the two of them work- taking a while to warm up one another’s styles, but then learning from eachother quickly before almost becoming like some sort of hive mind, knowing exactly what the other was thinking or wanting. It was freaky and weird and God, Peter loved science.

He noticed, toward the end once the machine was in its final stages, however, that the Younger Tony was beginning to become quieter and quieter, more agitated and jumpy. Peter knew why.

He didn’t want to go back.

And really, who could blame him? Quite clearly, he wasn’t having the best time back there. And this... this was the future, bright and amazing and offering so much more personal freedom than back where Tony was headed. He’d be mad not to want to stay.

But he couldn’t. Obviously, he couldn’t.

“You don’t think he could just... stay, could he?” Peter said to the older Tony quietly as he screwed a bolt into place, watching the younger boy fiddle numbly with a monkey wrench as he sat on the desk with his feet propped up.

Tony stopped working and sighed. “We can’t risk it,” he responded quietly, “we have no idea what might happen if he stays here too long. He might be fine, yeah- but he could also create a cataclysmic event. Anyway- one day, his own universe might need him. Who knows.” Tony looked over to him and pursed his lips, nodding once. “Childhood was shitty. In fact... a lot of it was shitty. I know that right now, he’s sat there thinking of every shithead friend and loveless relative who he’s going to have to go back to, and he’s going to want more than anything to just not. But... you know. It makes him who he is, I guess. Without that, Iron Man might never have happened. Then who’d save New York? Who’d stop the bad guys that try to take over the world with giant lizard people? Sometimes you just- you just gotta let life go through the motions. Let it move without intervention. Gotta just pray that one day, it’s all gonna be worth it.”

Peter watched Tony take a small breath and then rub an imaginary speck of grease off his hand nonchalantly. He tentatively rested his hand against Tony’s shoulder, knowing that the man was probably going through an emotional turmoil just then- and when Tony looked up at him, his smile was soft.

“Hey,” he said cheerily, getting to his feet and beginning to wander over to his younger version, “for the record? I think it was all worth it.” Tony turned his head before Peter could respond, clapping Young Tony on the shoulder and then smacking his feet off the desk surface as Peter just smiled stupidly at the both of them.

Well. At least this universe’s Tony had made it through. Peter was very glad of that.

“How you feeling?” He asked later to Young-Tony, when they were calibrating the parameters and coming to the send-off. He watched as the kid next to him went through a couple of hundred emotions at once, before eventually just settling on a strained smile and shooting it Peter’s way.

“Tired,” he admitted, “ready to go to bed.”

Yeah. Peter figured he probably wasn’t going to getting anything deeper than that. “You know, one day you’re gonna save the entire world,” he told the boy firmly, watching the way Tony’s eyes turned slightly incredulous at the strange out-of-the-blue nature of Peter’s words. Nevertheless, he persisted. “I’m serious. People are gonna sing your name in the streets. You’re gonna inspire a generation of new scientists and push for a better, cleaner future. You’re going to change everything.”

Tony didn’t say anything; but his grip on the monkey wrench just tightened a little bit and his heart sped up, just a fraction in Peter’s ears. Peter simply smiled. “The human race needs you, Tony Stark.”

“Well-” Tony said, his voice throaty. He blinked rapidly, before coughing and then recomposing himself. “Well, the human race isn’t going to release the next Star Wars film for another goddamn thirty years, so I’m mostly just pissed off with the human race right now, Peter,” he finished, his smile dry and amused as he pushed himself forward and then started to walk toward the chamber they’d spent the night creating. Older Tony was there waiting for them, and when he looked at the two of them he huffed gruffly.

“God,” he muttered, “thank the lord I didn’t meet you at this age. I would’ve got you into so much shit, Pete.”

Young Tony just tutted, rolling his eyes as he stepped up onto the chamber. “Old man.”

Tony looked indignant for a moment, before simply choosing to flip his younger counterpart the middle finger and then pull a face. “You ready to get thrown through space and time, you cheeky little prick?” He asked, but his tone was fond.

Young Tony shrugged. “It’s a little bit like surfboarding while drunk.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you know what that feels like,” Peter said, looking between the two versions of Tony and sighing. He looked down at the panel in front of him and then started flicking the buttons to start up the process, glancing up at the Young Tony’s wistful face as he stared around the workshop one last time.

“Hey, kid,” Older Tony said, waving to his young self as Peter got ready to flick the final set of switches, “want something to look forward to for the next 25 years or so?”

Young Tony cocked his head, intrigued. “Go on.”

The chamber was emitting a pretty terrific sound by that point, and so he watched as Tony leaned forward with a grin, cupping his hands around his mouth to boost the sound. “You get to have sex with Captain America!”

Peter burst out laughing, hand flicking at the last set of switches. He looked up just in time to see Younger Tony’s face go completely slack with shock, staring at Tony in complete disbelief.

“What thE FU-”

There was a terrific white light, just like before, and Peter stumbled back as a small shockwave pulse. Papers scattered all over the room and for a moment, Peter couldn’t see. But when his eyes refocused, they caught sight of the empty chamber. Tony’s replica was gone.

They both looked at the empty spot for a second. Peter wondered whether he’d made it- gotten home. Or at least, gotten to the coordinates that Young Tony had given them, which apparently led to Rhodey’s place.

He really hoped so.

Peter took a breath and shut his eyes. It was going to take a while to absorb all of the weirdness. He felt like he’d learned more about Tony today than he had in six months combined. He glanced over to the man in question, watching as he straightened out his collar. Peter decided to bring up the most important topic first.

“So,” he said, “You and Cap, huh.”

“Oh f-... just shut up, Parker.”

#i am so tired but I rlly wante dto finish this so #yeah #peter & tony #itsallavengers writes #peter parker

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unfortunatelysirius · 6 years ago

Text

! DEAR BROTHER, HOW I HATE THEE /// BUCKY BARNES x READER

╰❂╮ prompt ╰❂╮ You’re Tony Stark’s secretary, and also his sister, but there’s this one thing you can’t let him find out: your crush on the newest addition to the Avengers team, James Buchanan Barnes. ╰❂╮ author’s note ╰❂╮ I’m finally getting around to trying out new fandoms. Hope you guys like this; if you do, pls tell me, because I feel like it’s garbage and I’m sorry if it sucks D: Love you guys btw! Send some positivity my way pls, I’m going through some shitty times with rlly toxic people and it’s a struggle to get out of friendships with people you’ve known since childhood. AS ANOTHER SIDE NOTE, if you want tagged in future Avengers imagines, shoot me a message or just comment bc yoooo, I’ll totally do it. And rememberrrr, my inbox is open! And I’m always looking for fresh ideas for my imagines :))) ╰❂╮ warnings ╰❂╮ Swearing, Fluff ╰❂╮ word count ╰❂╮ 3869

If there was one thing you absolutely hated about your brother—not counting his oversized ego—it’d be his habit of meddling in your affairs. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t hide secrets from Anthony Stark. It just didn’t work that way, especially with all the security cameras and the blabber-mouthed Avengers that littered the Tower.

But there was this one secret that, if gotten out, and if exposed to the male members of the team, you’d probably move to Alaska.

You had the biggest, fattest, most obviously obvious crush on the Avengers’ new recruit, Bucky Barnes.

Truth be told, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t be enduring the phases of a crush. You didn’t want to be infatuated with someone who probably cared more for succulents than they did for you. The butterflies, the stomach cramps, the anxiety, the sweaty palms; you were certain Bucky noticed your behavior around him, and he probably found it uncomfortable, and it most certainly made him avoid you, but what were you supposed to do? Stay rooted in your office all day? That was not a plan you felt obligated to disclose—especially not to your crazy-ass brother. If it was up to Tony, he would have locked you in your office by now; if he ever caught you, his puny little sister, attempting to join in on field combat again, he’d probably have a heart attack. And Pepper would have your head.

Well, maybe not. Pepper liked you. But that was liable to change if you killed her boyfriend. And Tony would turn you into Rapunzel if you kept trying to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent when you were a freakin’ secretary.

That’s one reason why you couldn’t share your latest fancy with your brother. With all the history of Bucky being the Winter Soldier, and you always getting into trouble that’d always wind up with you sustaining some sort of injury, he’d worry himself into early sickness. You told Tony everything, only starting with the trend of raw honesty after Tony revealed that he had cameras out in the hall from your room and basically knew everything you’d ever done wrong, but this was just something he’d try and sabotage in any possible way he could.

However, that didn’t mean you couldn’t tell other people. It just had to be outside of hearing range for the Tower. That’s what had you and Wanda Maximoff at a café around the corner from Stark Tower. A populated place that was nowhere near Tony and his rampant, exaggerative mind.

“Oh my gosh, Wanda,” you groaned into the table, barely managing to thank the waitress as she deposited your and Wanda’s coffees and blueberry muffins in between the two of you. You peeked up, giving Wanda your best I’m-dying eyes, fit with half-slanted eyelids and creased corners. “He’s just so handsome… I can’t be normal around him. Like, how do you be normal around cute boys?”

Wanda pursed her lips. She had taken a dainty sip of her mocha latte through your rant, and was only just putting it down when you turned your pleading gaze to her. “Well,” she said slowly, “I do not think I am the best person to approach with this information. Neither Natasha. Do you have any secretary friends you can talk to about this?”

Your eyes turned withering. You regarded your coffee and muffin as irrelevant, pausing only for a moment to take in the delectable blueberries bursting out of the muffin-skin, before you raised your head to its full height. “You and Natasha are the only people I talk to,” you said. You sounded whiney, but you were freaking out about this, so honestly, you didn’t care. You jutted out your bottom lip, thinking a pout could win her over, and evoke from her advice. “Please?”

A pause. Then Wanda finally sighed. “If you really want a relationship out of this, then you should approach him with your feelings,” she told you. “Feelings are no good when they stay just that: feelings.”

“That’s true,” you said. You took a bite out of your muffin, nearly turning into goo at the scrumptious taste. “He’s just so… stoic. And he hardly smiles, or laughs. Sometimes I don’t know if he wants to kill me, feels nothing for me, or finds me likable. I mean, I hope it’s the latter, but let’s face it; the only person he truly likes in that tower is Steve, and on rare occasions, he even enjoys Natasha’s company. I’m just… a background nuisance.”

“No, you are not.” Wanda shook her head at you. She took her hands from her coffee cup, moving them out so she could place them on your own hands. She gave you a stern, motherly look. “You must get to know him better. Try your hand at being his friend, and then, see where the road takes you. You will do nothing for yourself if you continue to mope.”

You nodded frantically. “Yeah, yeah—that’s a great idea—but, wait…” You sighed. “What do I do about Tony?”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “Pay him no mind,” she said, pulling away a hand to wave it dismissively in the air. “You’re a grown woman. He does not own you. Unless you are a product of Stark Industries, and you are no human, but a robot in disguise. Are you?”

“No…”

“There you have it, then. Talk to Bucky, and see where he stands.” She leaned back in the booth seat, taking a long sip of her coffee. You proceeded to do the same.

Maybe she was right… You did need to start getting to know Bucky better. And you needed to stop letting Tony influence and dictate your life. After all, Bucky was only a man, and if he was as truly stoic as you thought he was, then your feelings would be one-sided and Tony would get his wish: you, single forever, an eternal bachelorette.

You were making breakfast in the kitchen Tony had on the Avengers floor (as well as the floor you stayed in, when you weren’t at your apartment in the city), clad in Hello Kitty pajamas, when you had your first encounter of the week with Bucky. You were humming to an old 80’s song, stirring pasta, and there came a deep, throaty chuckle, then his husky voice as he said, “Is that Billie Jean?”

You jumped, a sharp squeak leaving you. A flush lit you up from head to toe, and if it wasn’t Bucky—if it was another Avenger, someone you were comfortable enough around to be yourself—you might have broken into a fit of, “Oh my god, oh my god”’s. However, just your luck, it was Bucky who graced you with his presence, seeing you in your pajamas, watching you as you jammed out to imaginary Michael Jackson records. This was downright embarrassing.

You slowly turned to look at him. You fought back the even redder shade of blush that was struggling its way up your throat, choosing (from a multitude of other embarrassing ways to act around Bucky) to smile nervously and teeter-tot on your heels. If the symptoms of your crush were going to burn you alive, you might as well smile through the death and destruction. Bucky began to look expectant when you merely stood there and smiled at him, which made you remember you hadn’t yet replied to him. “Oh, u-um, yeah!” you said, through such a high pitch, that you internally face-palmed. Way to give yourself away, dumbass. “I was just…”

“Dancing?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. A smirk was beginning to twitch at his lips, fighting to make its debut appearance. “That’s a bit of a safety hazard when cooking, doll.”

Doll? Did he just call me doll? That deep-red shade you were trying to fight off your face… You were now a goner to your body’s dysfunctions. You flushed deeply, and your smile turned into a clumsy line that revealed just how much strength you had in the face of a handsome, well-mannered man, meaning zero. “There’s a reason why Tony keeps me locked up in the office all day,” you said, with an unsure laugh. “He says I make a habit of hurting myself when I’m alone. Apparently, I’m a trouble magnet!”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, and he no longer tried hiding his smirk. He looked amused. “Clearly,” he murmured.

“Well, uh—” You stopped talking. You really didn’t know where you were heading with that. The curious look on his face, though, made you take a deep breath and say, “Shouldn’t you be at training?”

Bucky’s eyes turned wide, and his smirk disappeared. He put a nervous hand on his neck, scratching at it—like this was a question he really didn’t want to answer. “Well, uh—” he parroted, looking just as jumpy as you had felt when you, too, had uttered the words. “I just wanted—I, well… I thought you might want some company.”

You blinked. You hadn’t expected that. “Well… I could always use someone to talk to while I cook.” Your expression considerably brighter, you turned back to your pasta—which had almost burned while you were busy talking to Bucky.

A loud scrapping sound told you Bucky had sat down, and the prickling sensation on your neck told you that he was staring. After about three minutes of you moving the pasta off the burner and putting together a marinara sauce, you decided to say something. You said over your shoulder, “So, you like Michael Jackson?”

Bucky said, “Yes.” A simple answer.

“I do too,” you replied, a smile on your face as you put the marinara sauce in a pan to heat. You turned to him. “Would you want to eat with me?” At the startled expression on his face, you backtracked, a sense of panic welling up in you— “Wait, uh—only if you want to—”

“Sure,” said Bucky, reverting you back to your normal, albeit fidgety, state. “Pasta’s nice.”

“Oh.” You blinked. You weren’t expecting that answer. “Okay, cool!” The raised eyebrow he shot you at the amount of pent-up excitement in your tone made you feel a tad bit abashed, but what did that matter—you were having dinner with James Buchanan Barnes.

You couldn’t stop smiling all throughout dinner, so distracted by your conversations with Bucky (and the astonishing fact that he was smiling and laughing with you, two elements of a human’s behavioral personality, which he apparently lacked, that caused you to think he disliked you) that you forgot one teeny, tiny detail about Stark Tower…

Tony cornered you the next morning, nearly sloshing your coffee all down your shirt in his haste to get to you. “You couldn’t have picked a worse person to deflower you, huh?”

You stopped walking. What the hell? “Did you really just say ‘deflower’? What are you—fifty?”

“Better than being in my 90s,” Tony said snidely, an obvious reference you weren’t automatically getting, before grabbing your arm. He ignored your look of annoyance and pulled you to in front of him. “That tin-armed hand-me-down is still in the works about becoming normal, Y/N/N. One little snap, and you could be killed. You understand that?”

“What—are you talking about Bucky?” At Tony’s deadpan expression, you had to let out a sigh; of course he saw. Of course! He had cameras in every stinkin’ crevice of this damned Tower. “Tony… there’s nothing going on between us.” Well, you wished there was, but he didn’t need to know that. “And besides, Bucky is a person. Stop talking about him like he isn’t.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. “Bucky is a person… He’s got you brainwashed, or infatuated, because all I see is a man who murdered our damn parents, Y/N.”

You pushed him off of you. “That wasn’t him,” you snapped. “He wasn’t in control of himself. If you want to blame anyone, blame Hydra. Stop being a dickhead about it.”

Tony’s eyes darkened. He went to say something, but he must have thought better of it because he merely shook his head, then briskly walked back down the hallway. When you got to your office, you couldn’t help the long, angry screech that left you in the safety of your personal four walls; if there was anyone who could frustrate you most in this world, it was your brother.

Taking long and well-thought measures to avoid someone usually resulted in you avoiding other people, too. Which included all of the Avengers. It wasn’t that much of a surprise when a knock on your office door sounded before Natasha was waltzing right in, a look of pure anger on her face.

“Why are you avoiding us?” she said brusquely, barely paying your deer-in-headlights expression any attention as she plopped down on the meeting chair placed in front of your desk.

“I’m avoiding Tony.”

Natasha breathed out a scoff, then began to laugh. “He lives here, Y/N. How exactly did you think you were going to avoid him? Avoid us?”

She had got you there. Your expression fell into a thin line teetering on the edge of shame, barely concealing your embarrassment. “I know… but he—”

Natasha threw up a dismissive hand. “Whatever he did to you, it can’t be bad enough a reason for you to avoid everyone and lock yourself up in this tiny little prison you call an ‘office.’” She snorted. “Barnes is worried.”

You were beginning to look away, not able to meet Natasha’s eyes while she was busy chastising you, but her final words caught your attention. You immediately turned to look at her. “Wait—what?”

There was that meddling look that Tony was always giving you. Befit with a raised brow and hollowed-out cheeks, Natasha smirked. “Barnes. He’s worried about you. He’s the one who asked me to come check on you. He said Tony probably locked you up to keep you out of trouble.”

Wow. I didn’t think Bucky cared enough to do that. Maybe there was a lot of things you didn’t know about Bucky. You pursed your lips, then said—“You can tell him I’m fine.”

Natasha got this look on her face, before she was tilting her face towards the door leading to your office. “Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

Before you could ask what she meant by that, the door to your office was pushing open, and Bucky stuck his head out from between the frame. His frown seemed bashful, and he didn’t meet your gaze head-on. “Hey, doll. Can I come in?”

Doll. Again. You ignored Natasha’s knowing stare when you replied, “Oh, y-yeah—of course.”

“Guess I’ll be off,” Natasha said loudly, rising from the office chair. She sent you a wink. “I’ll get Tony to lay off with the brotherly love.” She smirked.

You waved her off awkwardly, biting hard on your lip as she passed Bucky and shot him a wicked, cheeky grin. Bucky mumbled a few choice words, shoving at her shoulder; he certainly seemed embarrassed by whatever implications were in her expression.

When Bucky was out of the door’s range, and Natasha’s clacking heels were no longer heard above the ventilation, the two of you sat in a still, awkward silence. You were twiddling with your fingers, and Bucky was staring at his feet, both of you too introverted and shy to really speak the first words. However, in the midst of your frantic thoughts (Oh God, what do I say, what do I do, is he mad at me? Did I do something wrong?) you didn’t notice Bucky look up from his boots, or see him sink into the same chair that Natasha had only been occupying moments before. He looked at you for a long moment, and only when the hair-raising feeling that accompanied people’s centered gazes intensified did you finally look up.

“Oh,” you said dumbly. “Hi.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. The barest hint of a smile crawled onto his lips. “Hi.”

You didn’t know what to say. Neither did Bucky, it seemed. This was extremely awkward, and you wondered why Natasha had to leave when she knew the two of you were the quietest members of the Tower; conversations were difficult to uphold when Bucky was silent most of the time and simplistic in his rare answers, and you always stopped before you could begin when it came to speaking.

However, you must have misjudged Bucky for being defiant in his silence. He slowly crossed his arms, continuing to stare into your eyes, before saying, “Did Tony do something?”

Your mouth fell agape before you were gathering your senses. Don’t be such an open book, idiot. “He said some things I didn’t like,” you said finally. “So we’re not on speaking terms, at the moment.”

Bucky’s face brightened, then dulled. Like he was wanting a different answer. Like he knew exactly what you were talking about. “Ah,” he said. “Does the word ‘deflower’ really bother you that much?”

Oh, shit. Did he—? “Wait.” Your reply was slow, calculated. “Did you overhear our conversation?”

Bucky nodded.

You sighed. Well, he must think I’m obsessed with him or something, defending him like I’m his girlfriend. “Tony’s… an asshole. I’m sorry he said the things he did.” There, that sounded friendly enough. You didn’t want to come off as a fangirl.

Bucky just shook his head, looking determined. And like he didn’t really care about Tony, and his wonderful way with words. Bucky leaned forward, propping his crossed arms on your desk. He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and close enough that your gaze immediately flickered towards his lips. “You said there’s nothing going on between us… What if I said there is something?”

This conversation was heading in a direction you were not anticipating. Your jaw fell open again, eyes going wide with shock. “W-What?”

Bucky stared at you. He seemed less confident now, with your expression of bewilderment so blatant. He started leaning back into his chair. “I’m sorry—was that too forward?”

Now, you were dubious. Why wasn’t he referencing all the fangirl moments you’d have around him? Was he just oblivious? Since it appeared like he was embarrassed, for lack of a better word, you began to push forward in your seat; you latched a hand around his flesh arm. “N-No!” you shouted, before quieting, a blush on your face. “No… I just didn’t expect you to think that way about me, is all.”

Bucky was the one to look dubious now. “I thought I was obvious about it.”

“No, if anyone was obvious, it was me.” You laughed and shook your head. “Always giggling around you, and stuttering. And don’t get me started on the blushing. It’s like you’ve turned me into a schoolgirl again.”

Bucky’s handsome face lit up with a smile. Not a smirk—a smile. It made your stomach do flips. “I guess I just didn’t think someone like you would like someone like me. I’m surprised… I even came up here. I was actually going to your office to ask you out on a date when… you and your brother talked, but when you said there was nothing going on, I just thought… And then you were avoiding Stark, which made me think maybe, you were lying, and maybe his words made you more angry than I thought.”

That was the most Bucky had ever said to you. Maybe even around anyone in this Tower, including Steve—which made you feel smug inside. You smiled at him, and reached out a hand to lay gently on his jaw. “Well, you’re here now,” you told him softly.

He smiled back at you. “Yeah. I am.” He cupped the back of your neck with his human hand and pulled you into a swooping kiss.

You were shocked—completely shocked—by the amount of butterflies that lit up in your belly at the sensation of Bucky’s lips on yours. You thought the movies and books were lying when they said kissing was like a Fourth of July show. He tasted like coffee—black, no creamer and no sugar, the same way you liked your own coffee—and he smelled even more heavenly, making you nestle closer as the grip tightened on the hair at your nape. His lips grew harder against your own, moving passionately (as though both were pieces to the same puzzle) and it made you feel light, like you were airborne, the way he tasted and felt.

So caught in this amazing feeling, you didn’t hear the door open. But you did hear the outraged noises that left whoever it was that barged in.

“What the hell, Y/N?! Does this look like nothing to you?” your brother yelped, seeming completely bewildered by the sight of you and Bucky locked in a kiss.

You pulled away, wracked with a sense of smugness at the deprived sound that left Bucky’s throat. You gave him a soft smile before moving your chair sideways to take a peek at the door. Tony was there, mouth fully popped open, pointing a finger between you and Bucky, like he was in utter disbelief; you were sure in that empty brain of his, he was praying for this to be nothing but a vicious nightmare, his greatest worries coming true.

How sad it’d be when he woke up tomorrow morning to find that this was a reality, a reality not going anywhere anytime soon.

You left your hand on top of Bucky’s as you said, “You know, Tony, it’s kind of rude to barge into a room without knocking first.”

Tony spluttered, and gaped, raising an angry finger. Similar to how he acted when you called him a dickhead. “I’ll have you know—”

“You own this place, you can do anything you want, you’re the great Tony Stark—blah, blah, blah.” You caught the amused smirk on Bucky’s face. And a startled look. He was probably confused about your banter with Tony; you could be talkative to people you really cared about, but the shyness came out in front of strangers and groups. You threw Tony a frown. “Listen, Tony—I get that you think you have some sort of sibling protection rules you live religiously by, but let’s be a little bit more lenient about my dating life… Okay? Okay. Now please—get out and go gossip to the Avengers about me. I know you really want to.”

An outraged look appeared on Tony’s face. “Don’t think this is over!” he said angrily, before he was sweeping out of your office; there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he was heading to the Avengers to mope and ask for advice on how to sabotage your relationship.

You sighed, looking back at Bucky. He was already looking at you, and he was smirking. “Dating, huh?” he said, sounding pleased.

You swatted at him playfully; now that you knew he didn’t hate you, it was much easier to be comfortable with him. “Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

And he did.

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