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allegra-writes · 5 years

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Perfect

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

General Audiences

Warnings: None

The request:

This is the story of the first time you met Peter Parker, and the first time you kissed.

For all the people who asked for a second part of "Happy birthday, Peter" or asked me what happened in Paris. This is prequel to that fic, but as always, can be read as a stand alone.

MY MASTERLIST

You wouldn’t say you were having the worst day of your life, that was probably the day that psycho of Aldrich Killian kidnapped you and played mad science with you. Or, going farther back, the day those other psychos of Ten Rings had snatched your father in the middle of the dessert and kept him away from you for three months. No, you wouldn’t say it was the worst day of your life, but it was definitely on the top five.

First, your father finally allowed you to wear your suit, yes, but it was to fight the people that until forty-eight hours before had been your family. Then, you had gotten to meet the famous Spider-Man from You Tube, and he was as amazing as you thought he would be, or more, fighting side by side with you and your father, matching the rest of the Avengers in strength and skill and even managing to land a few punches on Steve, while visibly enjoying himself all the time. He was smart, and funny and a total hottie under that mask. So of course you had frozen like a star-struck twelve year old. You hadn’t even been able to speak, and now he probably thought you were some conceited, stuck up brat, too good to talk to the noobie.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, your father had humiliated you by taken you off the battlefield and carting you back to the hotel, with Happy as your babysitter, as if you were a child. Your only consolation was that Spider-Man had gotten the same treatment.

Still, by far the worst thing that happened that day, had been uncle Rhodey’s accident.

You had watched in horror how your dad had been too late to stop him from hitting the ground, unable to do anything yourself because he had deactivated your suit in order to force you out of the fight. He had rode to the hospital with Rhodey but had disappeared afterwards, and you knew that by the time you got your dad back, he was going to be bloodied and bruised. Not for the first time, you wished he would trust you enough to let you help him, but you weren’t under any delusions: You knew that after what had happened to uncle Rhodey, the chances of Tony letting you tag along on another mission were pretty much zero.

That also meant that the chances of you and Spider-Man ever crossing paths again were very slim, and with Happy returning you to New York the next morning, your window of opportunity with him was getting closed. So you did the Stark thing to do: You suited up for the battle and went to find Peter Parker.

…

Peter Parker was having the best day of his life. First, his childhood hero had brought him to Europe (or, had him brought, but whatever, Mister Stark was a busy man), then he gave him a brand new, awesome suit for him to wear. After that, he got to meet - and fight – The Avengers, and even steal Captain America's shield. The only downside had been that his celebrity crush, y/n Stark, hadn’t even spared him a glance, but he was used to pretty girls being aloof. At least to him.

He was so excited, that not even Happy Hogan's lack of enthusiasm could deter his good mood. Not even when he had demanded him to keep it down twice, and was currently knocking on his door a third time.

“Sorry, Happy! I promise this time I’ll...” He started apologizing before even opening the door, but the words died in his mouth once he did. Because that wasn’t Happy on the other side.

“Hey, Peter.”

“Mi-miss Stark! Hi!” It wasn’t fair, you thought: you knew you didn’t look that cute when you were nervous. But seeing him getting as flustered at you did wonders to your level of confidence. You smiled, feeling a little more your self.

“It’s y/n” you corrected.

“Y/n, sure” he blushed even harder, and you smiled wider.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?”

“Of-of course, miss Stark, y/n! I meant y/n!”, he tripped a little over himself making room for you to step in and it was the most adorable thing you had ever seen. You immediately headed for his bed, hopping on it because why not.

“So,” You commented casually without stopping to jump, “this is the Spider-cave…”

“I- I guess, I mean” It wasn’t fair, Peter thought. The most accomplished girl of his generation, for not mentioning beautiful, the one whose picture was on his lockscreen, was currently jumping. On his bed. And he was expected to make sense? Ok, he could do this, he just had to say words. Words that went together. Any words.

Why couldn’t he remember any words?

“I’m sure yours is bigger” He meant your room, but you totally miss understood.

“Well, yeah, but it’s not as bouncy” you replied.

“what?”

“What?” You parroted dumbly, pausing your hopping.

“Your room is not as bouncy?” Peter regretted talking as soon as he opened his mouth. What if he had misinterpreted you? What if it was some kind of cool kid's slang and he had just proven how not cool he was? What if-

“No, I meant my bed…”

Of course you were talking about your bed, it was obvious! He was so stupid! Now you were standing there looking at him with a tiny frown on your face, probably thinking he was a complete looser.

And now it was awkward. God, why was he such a-

“Why are you on your pajamas?”

Your question took him by surprise. He took in your black shorts and sheer blue top. Wow. Just… wow.

“… Why aren’t you?”

“It’s like, six o'clock” You explained with a shrug, “Dad said it was your first time in Berlin, I was thinking you’d might like to go out, do a little sight seeing…”

“Actually I already saw the city yesterday” Peter wanted to punch himself: What was wrong with him? Y/n Stark had just basically asked him out and he had rejected her. And now you looked disappointed. Like, for real, for him.

However, as he was later going to learn, you weren’t the type to give up easily.

“But this isn’t just your first time in Berlin, is it? It’s your first time in Europe, period. Isn’t it?” you checked.

“It is” He confirmed, “Why?”

A mischievous grin, so much like your father’s, started to slowly grow on your face.

“I just had the craziest idea…”

…

You weren’t like this. You weren’t wild, you weren’t reckless, that was a Stark gene you seemed to lack. Until now, cause there was something about Peter Parker, about his wide eyed gaze, his childlike enthusiasm, that made you feel adventurous and fearless. And if you were completely honest with yourself, you wanted to impress him.

You wanted to blow his mind.

… God, you were in so much trouble.

“I can’t believe we’re really doing it, this is insane!”

“You can still back out if you want, it’s not too late” But as you said the words you knew it was a lie, it was already too late. Because you could see reflected in Peter’s big brown eyes the same madness that seemed to have overtook you. He wasn’t backing up, not for anything.

He was about to open his mouth to reply when a soft tap on the car window interrupted him.

“Miss Stark, everything is ready, you have permission to land in Charles de Gaulle in forty minutes”

“Danke sehr aufmerksam, herr Müller” You turned to Peter, “What do you say, Spider-Man? Wanna go for a joyride?”

Stealing a plane and flying away to another country turned out to be not as big of a deal as Peter had imagined. If anything, it was a little anticlimactic how minimal was the effort you both had to do with a self-flown jet and the Stark last name opening borders and clearing landing tracks for you. Still, it didn’t stopped his heart from beating hard inside his chest the whole time. Or maybe that was just you and the effect you had on him, running hand in hand through the airport, trying to get away from the bunch of paparazzi that caught wind of the Stark jet landing there. It was exhilarating. You were exhilarating.

… He was in so much trouble.

“We need a cab” Peter announced once outside de airport, without slowing down, the paparazzi hot on your heels.

“There’s no way we’ll be able to loose them in a car, we need something faster” You pointed out, way more experienced in being hunted by the press.

“There, look!” He gestured at an impressive looking motorcycle that was just pulling up a few yards ahead.

“A Livewire! You have taste, Parker”

A pleased little blush appeared on his cheeks.

“Thanks,” He mumbled.

“Excusez-moi, monsieur!” You started, but the guy on the Harley interrupted you.

“Dude, I’m from L.A.” He chuckled, “And you are y/n Stark! This is so awesome, can I get a selfie?”

“Sure, can we get a ride?” You smiled sweetly at the camera.

“Sorry, guys, I’m here to pick up my son, his flight is delayed, he’s gonna flip when he sees you were here and he missed it…” He seemed genuinely sorry.

“Could we, like borrow your bike, then?” Peter requested.

The guy hesitated,

“Well, I mean, you look like cool kids and all but…”

“Here, you can have my watch as a guarantee you’ll get it back” you took your watch off your wrist and placed it on his open palm, “We’ll send you the location of the bike once we’re done, and maybe we could get another selfie with your son when you come pick it up…”

There wasn’t much time left, with the first photographers already coming out the doors. Luckily the bike guy caved in.

“Is this a Stark watch? These are worth like, a hundred thousand…”

“Couple hundreds, actually” You corrected, “special edition and all that”

“Ok, Take it!” The guy said, seeing the paparazzi running your way.

“Thanks!”

“Thank you so much! We’ll promise to give it back in one piece!” Peter yelled back as you both were riding away, with his hands firm on the handle, loving the feeling of your warm form draped around his back and the wind on his face. It was almost like swinging on his webs at breakneck speed, maybe even better, cause your arms were wrapped around his waist.

“Ever did this before?” you asked, raising your voice above the howling of the wind.

“I drove my friend's Ned scooter once” He replied, honestly “and I have super fast reflexes, how hard can this be?”

“Oh my God, we’re going to die!!” You groaned into his jeans cladded shoulder.

“Don’t worry, miss Stark, I won’t let anything happen to you” He promised, speeding down the A1 under the pink sunset. And if your heart melted a little right then and there, well, no one really needed to know.

“Whoa! That is amazing!” Peter bursted out in awe as soon as you reached Avenue Foch and the Arc de Triomphe appeared into view.

“Ok, pull over there, it’s time to ditch the bike” you decided.

“Are you sure?”

“Completely, this city is full of beautiful things at every corner, we might miss some if we go too fast” You loved Paris, and for some reason, you wanted Peter to fall in love with it too. You couldn’t really put your finger on why it was so important to you, but you needed him to see it the same way that you did, with all it’s beauty and quirks, with all it’s flaws (because there were flaws, like the rats or the outdated subway system), you didn’t want Peter to just have the narrow tourist view, with only the golden statues, the museums and the clichés.

You were going to give Peter the full experience.

He webbed the Harley to the front windows of a Bowling alley and you sent the coordinates to your own watch for the cool guy from the airport to pick it up.

“We are in Paris! This is the wildest, craziest thing ever! Crazier than stealing Cap's shield! I mean, I-…”

“Peter? What are you doing?”

Peter lowered his cellphone and turned to face you,

“I- I was… it’s just- I've been making this video of the trip so far and I thought…” He explained, sheepishly.

“Cool, can I be on it?”

That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting at all.

“Ye-yeah, sure” He turned the phone so the camera was pointing at you.

“We are in Paris with y/n!” He started over, “This is the craziest shit! I’m in the city of lights with the Queen S herself! Say 'Hi', your highness!”

It was amazing how the hated nickname the press had given you suddenly sounded so much sweeter from Peter’s lips. You smiled big and bright for his camera and did a little wave, and it was the cutest thing Peter had ever seen in his life. Chubby pandas and sneezing kittens had nothing on you.

“Where to now?”

“Tuileries Garden, of course” You said without missing a beat, “but we gotta hurry, it'll be closing time soon!”

Peter Parker had superhuman strength, you knew that, you had seen him stop a bus with his bare hands, witnessed him stopping a punch from the winter soldier himself. Yet he let you dragged him by the hand all across the Champs-Elysees. You weren’t sure what that meant, but it made you feel warm inside.

He, on the other hand, knew exactly what it meant. Because he would have let you do anything you wanted with him. Because he had known you for less than twenty-four hours, and you already had him wrapped around your little finger.

“Oh, no!” Your disappointment at finally arriving at the garden gates only to find them closed pulled at something inside of him. Those sad eyes and pouty lips ought to be illegal. He wondered idly what it would be like to bite that protruding bottom lip, to kiss the pout away. He chastised himself mentally, you were obviously upset, it was not the time for those kind of thoughts. You had your heart set on that garden, and he was just a middle class kid from Queens, there wasn’t much he could give to one of the richest girls in the world, but he could give you this.

“I think I might have an idea”

You turned to him with hopeful eyes,

“You do?”

“Yeah, but…” He hesitated, “we would have to- I mean you would have to let me, like…” He gestured awkwardly at your torso, his face reddening quickly.

“What?”

“Look, just… Do you trust me?” He finally asked.

“Of course” came your immediate reply.

“Ok. I’m just going to…” He took a step towards you, and very slowly, giving you plenty of time to back away or stop him, he wrapped an arm firmly around your waist.

You had never been this close to him before, well, no, that was a lie, you had been really close to him on the bike but somehow this felt different. Your face ended up on the crook of his neck and you breathed him in: Fabric softener with a hint of axe deodorant and chemicals, probably from his web fluid, and underneath all that, something else, spicy, like cinnamon. Something purely Peter.

Your warm breath on his neck sent shivers down his spine and he had to take a few seconds to gather himself enough to be sure his voice wouldn’t tremble before he said,

“Now wrap your arms and legs around me”

“What??” You squeaked, to your embarrassment.

“You said you trusted me”

“I- I do” You locked your arms around his shoulders and, with a little jump, your legs around his waist. Then, the world blurred out around you. One second, you both were standing on the ground, the next, you were flying through the air at the speed of light. And another one after that, you were landing surprisingly softly at the other side of the tall fence, effectively entering the gardens.

“Oh my god, that was awesome!”

“I’ve seen you literally flying,” Peter pointed out, “this was just a jump, definitely not as cool”

“Yeah, but like, in full armor and helmet. I never get to feel the wind on my face and stuff…”

“y/n? You can let go now” Peter regretted his words as soon as you let go of him and took a step back, taking your warmth and sweet perfume with you. He tried to cover his disappointment up.

“So, what’s so special about this garden anyway?”

You kept pointing at different flowers and sculptures for him to see and film, but more often than not, Peter found himself looking at you instead of them, far more fascinated by you. Far more interested in capturing the sparkle in your eyes anytime you saw something beautiful, or the way your skin seemed to almost glow under the fading light of the blue twilight, than in any fountain or plant.

It was a beautiful park, there was no denying it, like some enchanted wonderland out of a fairly tale. But he suspected it would probably loose most of it’s magic without it’s bewitching princess walking amongst it’s flowers, telling stories about the Medici and revolutions.

“… and of course, there’s the Ferris wheel. Do you think we can turn it on? I mean, it’s going to attract attention so we’ll probably won’t get a lot of time on it” You turned to find him staring at you through his cellphone camera, a soft look you didn’t dare to name on his face. “Pete, are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, yes, of course, I was just-…”

“Vous, arrete vous!”

“Shit! We better run!”

The security guard was fast. Definitely not as fast as Peter but way to fast for you, so Peter ended up carrying you in his arms bridal style even after jumping the fence, because there were a couple of guards waiting for you out there too.

“Look! That must be the Seine!” He exclaimed joyfully once you reached the riverside.

“It is!” You confirmed, holding onto him for dear life as he raced towards the water.

“Uncle Ben used to take me fishing when I was little,” He commented casually as he came to a halt right next to a small boat tied to an even smaller dock. He deposited you carefully on it, and jumped in himself, immediately getting into the task of starting up the little outboard motor.

“Are we stealing a boat now?” You snorted inelegantly.

“Borrowing it,” He corrected, finally sailing away from the shore and the guards yelling at you angrily on it. “We are borrowing it. And I don’t see why not, we already borrowed a plane and a motorcycle…” He shrugged.

“I guess we are literally partners in crime, huh?”

“I still can believe it,” He confessed, shaking his head, “I mean, up until like three hours ago I thought you didn’t like me”

You lowered your eyes in shame.

“I know, sorry 'bout that” It was your turn to make a little confession, “I know I was a total bitch to you at the airport, it’s just… I was kind of nervous about meeting you and I-…”

“Wait, what?” Peter Parker looked like a confused puppy, and you knew he would not appreciate the comparison but to you it was the cutest shit you had ever seen. “You were nervous about meeting me? Why?”

“Because,” You explained, “You are Spider-Man, you stopped a car from hitting a bus full of people with one hand, that’s kind of amazing”

You are kind of amazing, you were too much of a coward to say out loud.

“You saw my videos?”

You rolled your eyes,

“Well, duh! Who do you think showed them to my dad?”

Peter was speechless: You weren’t just the reason he was in Paris: You were the reason he was in Europe at all, the reason Tony Stark had seek him out, and offered him the “internship”. He knew after this trip his life was going to change forever and it was all because of you.

It was all thanks to you, and he didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Now, see that bridge over there? That’s Pont des Invalides, nothing special about it, there’s hundreds of bridges in this city,” You continued to talk, completely oblivious to his little epiphany, “but once we reach it we’ll be able to see…”

“The Eiffel tower!” Apparently he had already spotted it.

By the time you finally reached Pont d'lena and we’re able to leave the boat, Peter was almost vibrating with excitement.

“There’s a merry go round!”

“A carousel, actually.” You corrected.

“What’s the difference?” Peter asked, confused. His little frown was adorable.

“Merry go rounds are for children. Carousels are for sophisticated young adults visiting Paris on their own for the first time!” You said before jumping into it before it even stopped moving, what earned you a few dirty looks from a couple of locals that were there with their children, but Peter was laughing as he jumped behind you, so it was all worth it.

“This has to be the prettiest merry go round I had ever took a ride on…”

“Carousel,” you rectified again “but, yeah, everything is prettier in Paris.” You sighed.

“Except you”

Your mouth fell open in mock indignation,

“Peter Parker, you take that back!”

“No- that’s not-… I mean, I didn’t- I wasn’t…”

He took a deep breath to pull himself together.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just wanted to say that you always look beautiful, no matter the city you are in…”

You looked away to hide your blush.

“Well… you probably should have started with that” you said as nonchalantly as you managed. The carousel finally stopped moving.

“Now what?” Questioned Peter once you got off of the ride.

“Now we go see the tower, after that… we'll probably have to take the subway, so we can go all the way to Montparnasse to see the Catacombs” You decided. He didn’t looked that convinced, though.

“The catacombs? At night? Won’t that be like, really creepy?”

“That’s the whole point! Besides,” you finished, looping your arm around his “I’ve got Spider-Man to protect me from anything evil that might be lurking down there”

He laughed,

“And I have Iron girl to protect me, so I guess there’s nothing to be afraid of”

“I’m not so sure about that superhero name,” The way you scrunched your nose was way too adorable for your own good, Peter concluded. “We’re gonna have to keep working on that…”

“Wow! Look at that, that’s incredible!”

You follow Peter’s line of sight right to were the most famous landmark in the world was sparkling as if covered in a thousand stars.

“It’s like the world’s biggest Christmas tree!”

… Or that, you guessed.

There were very few views in the world more beautiful than the Eiffel tower at night. The naked awe in Peter Parker's face illuminated by the tower lights as he gazed upon it, was one of them.

A soft yapping sound took you both out of your respective reveries. A couple of Pit bull puppies had seemingly escaped their leashes and we’re running around one of the entrances.

“Aww, look! It’s puppy love!” You declared as one of the puppies licked at the other's snout.

Peter laughed.

“Do you think that was their first kiss?” He wondered, “They do look kind of nervous and over exited about each other…”

You smiled,

“I wish my first kiss had been like that”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, in Paris, under the Eiffel tower lights on a full moon?” You explained, “Mine wasn’t nearly as romantic”

Peter seemed to get lost in thought.

You nudged at him with your shoulder.

“What about you? What was your first kiss like?”

He seriously considered lying, he really didn’t want you to know how much of a looser he was, and he also kinda wanted to impress you. But you had been nothing but sincere and natural and open with him the whole night, the least you deserved was his honesty.

“I never-… I mean, I haven’t… kissed anyone… yet.”

You blinked.

“Never? Really?”

“Really really” He confirmed and even under the soft light you could tell he was blushing furiously.

You didn’t know what possessed you next. Possibly the same brand of insanity that drove you to take your father’s jet in the first place, but that was neither here nor there as you slowly, very slowly like him at the gardens, took a step towards him and whispered,

“Close your eyes”

He couldn’t have disobeyed your command even if he had wanted to, it was like some strange gravitational phenomenon, or maybe an electromagnetic one: The closer you were, the stronger the pull to get even closer, and the stronger your power over him. He closed his eyes but he was quite obviously unnerved, the tension clear on his shoulders. You laced your finger with his and squeezed his hand a little, and he relaxed immediately at your touch. He licked his lips instinctively and that was your undoing, you finally pressed your lips softy to his, and the universe burst into colors behind your eyelids. It was sweet, and gentle and everything a first kiss was supposed to be.

And you actually had no recollection of any other person you had kissed before; because they were inconsequential, no one had ever made you feel anything like this, warming you up from the inside, making you dizzy with want. It was stronger than any whiskey you might or might not had sneaked from your father’s bar. You stood there, drinking each other for some minutes, or maybe some centuries, you weren’t sure. Everything beyond Peter’s lips on yours had lost its meaning.

When you finally parted, Peter rested his forehead in yours, breathless and refusing to have to let go of you completely.

“How was that for a first kiss?” You asked under your breath. Peter smiled, leaning in once again.

“It was perfect” He replied against your lips, “Absolutely perfect.”

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #cute #first love #first kiss

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an-odd-idea · 3 years

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Author Interview Tag

Tagged by @aelaer thank you!

Name: I go by Odd a lot, or just Laura

Fandoms: I only write about the MCU, specifically Irondad with a few appearances by other people in their circles. But I also love LOTR and will forever.

Where you post: Just Ao3, as An_Odd_Idea. I post some stories on my side blog too, but only very niche ones.

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Too Pure For Your Own Good, in which Peter is kidnapped by Beck and subjected to illusions trying to get something from Tony, and it’s very angsty.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: Like Father, Like Son, in which Tony and Peter are kidnapped (lots of kidnapping, I know) and Peter is forced to try to build an arc reactor in a set amount of time with Tony only able to instruct him from across the room.

Fic you were nervous to post: Each one in my series The Idiot’s Notebook, because they’re pretty unusual, and I worried they could be misinterpreted in the wrong way. Read the tags, please.

How you choose your titles: Usually they come to me as I’m writing, and some key phrase or piece of dialogue will stand out to me, or I’ll just come up with a good way to sum up the main theme of the story. On the rare occasions that I get done writing and editing and still don’t have a title, I use the adrenaline rush of being about to post to make my brain go turbo mode and grab something out of thin air.

Do you outline: I always have a mental outline of how I want things to go, but I only write it down for longer stories, especially if there’s more than one chapter.

Complete: 23 on Ao3 (mainly oneshots anyway)

In progress: Ao3 will tell you I have 2 in progress. I’m also working on 2 at once to post on my side blog. Also planning a whole bunch of others.

Coming soon/not yet started: A historical AU inspired by my great-great grandmother’s story, a Borrowers AU, a funny sickfic…uhhhh, my brain is also chanting for a competitive figure skating AU, but I’m trying to hold that one off because I have a lot going on already and no idea for a plot beyond “oooo, is he gonna do well? can he land the quad? oooo exciting!”

Do you accept prompts: Maybe, if I like them, but I don’t typically seek them out for my normal writing.

Upcoming story you’re most excited to write: This historical AU. Peter is an orphan like in canon, but May lives far away, uh, somewhere. He insists to the people in charge that he has an aunt who he hasn’t seen in a while who can take care of him, but they can’t get in contact with her. He gets sent west on the orphan train (which was a real thing, look it up) gets sorta-mostly adopted by Tony, and deals with Oscorp villains and radioactive spiders while continuing his search for May.

Thanks for reading!

Tagging: @lbigreyhound13 @superherotiger @jelly-pies @carpediem369 @bitter-bees @thedumbestavenger

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blancheludis · 5 years

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A/N: @iron-man-bingo, square: Dad!Tony + Sick Kid

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Words: 5.797 Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts Tags: Sick Kid, Single Dad Tony, Getting Together, Sweet Steve, Protective Tony

Summary: When Peter falls sick, single dad Tony is hopelessly overwhelmed. He is told he needs chicken soup. Surely the super hot stranger living next door will have some. And Steve, being an all-around good guy has no idea how to make chicken soup either but delivers nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Peter, even while he can hardly leave his bed, manages to play matchmaker, because clearly his dad does not know how to get any on his own.

---

Peter’s fever is rising. At the same time, Tony’s adrenaline level has never been higher. These two things have nothing to do with each other, of course. Tony knows exactly what he is doing. Not.

The day before, the school had called about Peter not feeling so well. Tony broke several traffic laws on his way there and had a minor panic attack before he could get out of the car, but Peter had greeted him with a weak smile and a hug. Everything had still been fine then.

Now, Peter’s forehead feels like the wrong end of a soldering iron. He has vomited several times, holds his belly like it is going to split open any second now, and has not moved a single toe out of bed unless to go to the bathroom. Where Peter is usually a lively kid, full of energy, he is now listless and deathly pale.

Tony does not know what to do. They have been to the ER and gotten some pills, which helped them through the night, but Tony feels like it is constantly getting worse. It is heart-breaking to see his son in such a state.

At the same time, he remembers all the sneering articles about what a bad father he will be when the press first found out that he has a son and was going to raise him alone. It was not as bad as it could have been, since he is not half as public a figure anymore than he had been in his youth and before he made Pepper his CEO, but it only added to his own reservations about the matter. For the most part, they are doing well. Only now does Tony wish that he had someone to guide him. Jarvis perhaps, or Ana.

There is one person he goes to with all of his problems, trusting her to solve them – and she usually delivers.

Raising slowly from the armchair he has pushed into Peter’s room to better watch over his kid, Tony gets out his phone and walks into the kitchen. After he puts the kettle on the stove to make fresh tea, he dials Pepper’s number. Dutiful as she is, she picks up after the first ring.

“Where are you?” she asks by way of greeting.

A glance at the clock tells Tony that it is past ten in the morning. Instead of not even a day, it feels like he has been wrangling with Peter’s sickness for months.

“Pepper,” he says, ignoring her question, “you’re a woman.”

The silence that hits him is as brief as it is icy. “You had better think very well about how you’re going to end that statement.”

Tony loves Pepper. She is scary and efficient and has put up with him for longer than anybody else except for Rhodey. Usually, he would not pass the chance for a little ribbing between friends, but he has more pressing matters to deal with.

“Peter is sick.” Saying the words has a shiver running down his back as if there is a chance he is going to lure more germs in to wreak havoc in his home. “I have no idea what to do. Surely you know something.”

Admitting this hurts, but Tony is far beyond pride. He always has been where it comes to Peter.

“Because I’m a woman?” Pepper’s voice is openly sceptic, but underneath Tony can hear the same uncertainty that has kept him up all night.

He momentarily forgot that part of what makes Pepper so scarily efficient is that she lives for her job. Neither of them has actually seen themselves having a family of their own in the future.

“Come on,” Tony begs. “I’ll buy you a hundred shoes if you stop twisting my words around and help me.”

She is his only chance. Rhodey might know more, considering that he has a number of younger sisters, but he is on some mission and they have not talked in a while. Tony could probably get a call through, but Rhodey does not like it when Tony so blatantly breaks the rules. If there is no other way, he will do it without hesitation, though.

“I’m not a mother, Tony,” Pepper says slowly, sounding as if she is physically distancing herself from that possibility. “I don’t know what to do with sick children. Have you been to the doctor?”

Tony is too exhausted to roll his eyes, but it might be better that way. Somehow, Pepper always hears when he is getting cheeky, even when she has no way of seeing what he does.

“Of course,” he says shortly. “They gave me something for the fever and cough syrup.” Peter had even taken the syrup without complaint, which has only made Tony’s worry worse. If it still tastes the way he remembers, it is vile. “But – Pepper.”

She makes a small noise at the back of her throat that might have made Tony laugh at any other time. Never before has she sounded out of depth. He would have even thought it impossible.

“I don’t – have you tried chicken soup?” she asks, clearly grasping for straws.

“Chicken soup?” Tony repeats aghast. “What’s that supposed to do? He’s really sick.”

Actually, the doctor had said something about the common cold, but they have clearly misinterpreted the situation, considering the state Peter is in. There is nothing common about his child lying listlessly in bed, slowly burning up.

“I don’t know.” Pepper’s voice is higher than it is supposed to be, but Tony blames it on the reception. Otherwise, he might have to admit that she does not have any idea what to do either. That is something that has never happened before. “I remember getting chicken soup as a child and I survived. You can always try.”

Trying does not seem enough when it comes to Peter, but Tony does not actually see any other options. “I think I will.” At the very least, it gives him something to do other than watching Peter sleep.

“Good,” Pepper exhales audibly. In a far more composed voice she continues, “I expect you’re not coming to the office for the next days?”

Business is something safe to stick to, Tony can appreciate that. At the same time, he thinks Pepper must have clearly missed the direness of his situation. “My kid is sick,” he says slowly

“He’ll get better,” she offers with more confidence than Tony imagines she feels. “Call when you need anything else.”

He will, he always does.

Belatedly, Tony asks, “Where do I get chicken soup?” but Pepper has already hung up. Since Tony does want to admit how very bad he is at this whole father thing, he does not call her back about something that likely ever other person in this city knows.

Putting the phone down on the kitchen counter, Tony turns to their fridge, opening it despite being peripherally aware of what is in there and knowing for a fact they have never owned chicken soup in the whole time they have been living here, perhaps ever.

Restless, Tony wanders back to Peter’s room, only to find him still asleep. Putting a gentle hand on the small forehead, Tony finds it still hot and sweaty. Muttering something, Peter pushes against the touch, then settles back into the cushions. It leaves Tony restless.

Walking to the kitchen again, he picks up his phone to search for chicken soup recipes, despite knowing he is not going to attempt it. He cannot go out to buy groceries and leave Peter alone, and even if he had the ingredients delivered, he does not want to accidentally poison his son with a bodged first attempt.

Just when he is wondering whether he could order one of his employees to bring him soup – there are so many, one of them has to know how to do this correctly – when he has the idea of asking his neighbours.

It is the middle of the day, which might turn out to be a problem. Tony still throws a short look at the mirror in the hallway to make sure he is more or less presentable – it is definitely less, considering that his hair sticks up in several directions and he has bags under his eyes, not to speak of the wrinkled state of his clothes, which might still be the same ones he wore to the office the day before – and ventures out of their apartment. He leaves their door open in case Peter wakes up and calls for him, even though he does not plan on staying out for long.

He tries the two apartments one floor down first because he knows two couples live there, one of which has a child on their way

Tony leaves the other door on their floor for last. He knows who is living there, and whether he will be successful in his quest or not, he has hoped to make a better first impression with the inhabitant than to come knocking in a frenzy and ask for chicken soup of all things.

He is surprised when the door opens. Through all of Tony’s completely coincidental observing, he knows that the man living here has an erratic schedule. He goes on a run every morning but that is where all regularity ends. Tony does not do well with schedules either, of course, although he has gotten a lot better since getting a child.

Then he has no more time to think, because the door is fully open and light floods the hallway. Steve Rogers – whose name Tony totally only just read on the nameplate and did not know beforehand through a minor case of stalking – looks gorgeous. He is wearing a horribly outdated plaid shirt but still manages to make it look good thanks to his unapologetic mass of muscles. It sports what looks like paint stains, splattered dots and streaks of all colours that also cover his skin. Tony fights the urge to reach out and test whether they are still fresh.

This is not the time for indulging his secret crush, though. He is on a mission and it is a vital one.

“Hey, I’m Tony. Your neighbour. Which you probably know, because we’ve been sharing the floor for a while, and you seem like the type to notice that,” Tony says, or rambles, really.

It makes him wonder how he ever manages to string two complete sentences together during business meetings. Then again, he does not want to sleep with most of his business partners – not that he necessarily wants to sleep with Steve, he is just very nice to look at and Tony has done a lot of looking when Steve comes home sweaty after his morning runs.

“I need –” he stops, tries again, “Do you have chicken soup?”

Steve stares at Tony. It is not the kind of aghast or disgusted stare he might have for something dead in the street he accidentally stepped in. It is more flabbergasted, overwhelmed. Tony knows he can have that effect, but he is usually in an expensive three-piece suit and sunglasses when he does, dialling the Stark charm up to ten.

“I – don’t think so,” Steve says slowly, still not looking away from Tony. His lips are slightly tipped upwards, though, and he has not yet backed away, so Tony counts that as a good sign. “Do you want to come in while I have a look?”

Before Tony can realize that his gorgeous neighbour has just invited him into his apartment, he clicks his tongue. “You should know whether you have chicken soup. That’s like an essential part of every household, right?”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek. Hard. At some point, he is really going to have to learn some manners. And to think before he speaks. Running a hand through his hair, he blinks up at Steve apologetically.

“Sorry, that was rude,” he tries again. “I’d love to come in. I mean, who wouldn’t? But I can’t. I need to go back. Peter has a thing with feeling abandoned. Especially when he’s not feeling well.” Pointing at the other door on their floor, he adds, “We’re in 4A. Come knocking if you find any soup.”

This time, he is telling the complete truth, almost too much of it to feel comfortable. Peter is afraid of being left behind, though, ever since his mother died and he was left with just his overwhelmed father. They are doing well, most of the time, and Tony does not miss the overnight stays he used to do so often for business meetings, but it is still hard to swallow that Peter, at his young age, is already afraid of something that cannot be explained away as one might monsters under the bed.

Tony shrugs helplessly and is already turning around, when Steve asks, “Who’s Peter?”

Normally, Tony loves talking about Peter. He is as proud a father as possible. Right now, getting back to his kid is more important.

“Currently a pint-sized bundle of germs and vomit,” Tony explains shortly. “I’d lie and say he’s normally cute, but he’s a menace. Must have gotten that from me.”

Steve regards him with a smile that is as bright as it is gentle. “I’ll bring the soup,” he promises, and Tony is not going to argue that Steve seemed rather convinced he does not have any soup just moments ago. He will take what he can get.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Tony says and hurries back home.

For the next hours, they hear nothing from Steve Rogers, and Tony does his best to push down the heartbreak of having trusted his crush and having been disappointed by him. Peter is awake by now, and every cough of his brings Tony closer to just order some soup from the nearest Thai restaurant. Surely that will count too.

They are playing a very slow round of cards on Peter’s bed, interrupted by Tony trying to coax Peter into drinking more tea and taking more cough syrup, when the doorbell rings.

Tony frowns in the direction of the hallway, then glances back at his cards. It is not going to be Steve – nobody needs hours to look through their fridge for soup – and he does not want to deal with anybody else. Everyone important has a key anyway.

He plays his next card but looks up when Peter does not do the same.

“Don’t you want to get that?” Peter asks, gesturing to the door.

In the face of that question, Tony does not want to admit his reluctance to go. Appearing too worried about Peter will not do. Parents, or so he guesses, should appear confident about what they are doing.

“Will you be all right?” Tony asks nonetheless.

He is glad to see Peter roll his eyes. That hopefully means he is not getting worse. “You’re just going to the door, Dad.”

Tony nods and gets to his feet. “All right, I’ll be back in a minute.” He makes a show of putting his cards face-down on the bedsheet. “And don’t you cheat, I’m already going easy on you.”

Peter’s hand, that has already been inching closer to Tony’s cards, stills. “You’re not going easy on me. You’re just bad at cards.”

With a gasp, Tony raises his hand to his chest, clutching his rumpled shirt. “How can you say that? My own flesh and blood.”

He is rewarded with a tiny smile, and treasures it above everything else.

On his way to the door, Tony tries to smooth down his clothes and hair, but guesses he is just making things worse. The next time Peter sleeps, he should probably take a shower and change into something more suitable for lounging around at home, waiting for a catastrophe to hit.

When he opens the door, Tony is rewarded by a second look at Steve Rogers from close up. He is wearing clean clothes now, no paint splatters in sight, but which also seem a size too small. Perhaps it is his aesthetic, and Tony is definitely not going to protest it.

“Sorry for taking so long,” Steve greets him, looking somewhat sheepish as he holds out his hands to offer a pot to Tony.

“That smells heavenly. Did you – wait.” With some delay, Tony notices that pot only fits in the most generic of senses. The thing is a dented monstrosity of fading colours and nauseating patterns. “How old are you? Why do you own such garishly coloured pots? With flowers?”

Distantly, Tony thinks he should be wondering more about the fact that Steve is here with an actual pot instead of some jar or plastic bag. Even at the first glance, there is more effort involved than Tony wanted Steve to make. This does not look like he found any chicken soup in his fridge after all, but actually went out to get it.

“It’s not mine,” Steve says, a small grin playing on his lips as he regards the pot in his hands. “My friend’s grandmother lives around the corner. She whipped something up for you.”

Tony is unable to do anything but stare, not sure whether he has understood Steve correctly. “Are you telling me this is real, handmade chicken soup? And that you went to a real grandmother to get it?” He has no idea how much work goes into making this soup but it is probably too much for a random stranger manically knocking at one’s door. “Wait,” he then says, not yet reaching for the pot, “you’re not one of those crazy serial killers who lie their way into honest people’s home by bringing them poisoned soup, right?”

Steve’s laugh hits him by surprise. It is a melodic sound that Tony would not mind hearing every day.

“I’d say I’m not,” Steve says, followed by a one-armed shrug. “Things might look differently if I had actually tried to cook this soup on my own.”

That is understandable but does not explain anything. Tony lets his eyes wander from the pot up the very nice arms that are holding it to Steve’s earnest face waiting for an answer.

“Then why?” Tony questions, wondering why he does not take the soup and make sure to be more eloquent when he goes to bring the pot back to Steve, possibly with a good wine and aspirations to turn it into a date. However, all thoughts of romance are sucked out of him by the sick child waiting for him inside the apartment.

Steve smiles. “You looked desperate.” He shows no strain from continually holding the pot.

Under different circumstances, Tony might have protested that statement. He is far beyond holding on to his pride, though. “I am desperate,” he says with surprising vehemence and finally takes the pot out of Steve’s hand and balances on his hip. “Peter’s always been healthy. I have no idea what to do.”

It is cathartic to say that, even to a stranger, but Tony still hopes Peter is not listening in on them from his bedroom. That would defy the whole ‘parents know best’ paradigm they are still sticking to.

A small frown creases Steve’s forehead as he looks at where Tony’s hands cradle the pot before they travel up and find his face. “This might be a tad forward, since we don’t know each other –”

“I kinda know you,” Tony interrupts, afraid of what Steve is going to say. “I ogle you each morning when you go on your run.” He bites his cheek again. What is it with him and running his mouth in front of people he finds attractive? “This – is not appropriate to say to strangers. I’m so sorry. I haven’t slept in three days. At least.”

Because before Peter fell sick, Tony had busied himself with a project, forgetting all about the basic needs his very human body has. That has gotten much better over the past years, but old habits die hard.

To both their surprise, Steve chuckles. “It’s all right.” Tony feels like he needs to propose on the spot. “What I was saying, I could help? I mean, I don’t have children, but I’ve been sick pretty much my entire childhood, so I might just know enough to make things a bit easier on you.”

Everything in Tony wants to say yes. Well, everything but the small part of his brain dedicated to common sense. He has a sick child inside. Even though Steve says he wants to help, Tony would be agreeing because he has an embarrassingly giant crush on his neighbour, not because of his supposed expertise in surviving childhood sicknesses.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Tony says, trying to refuse subtly.

“You didn’t ask,” Steve protests softly, “I offered.”

That is just unfair. Tony does not do well with temptation. Still, he inclines his head apologetically. “Peter does not do well with strangers.”

“Tony,” Steve says, his smile never dropping. “Just say no. I’ll leave you my number.” With complete nonchalance, Steve pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket with his number on it in a loopy scrawl. He definitely came prepared, which has Tony feeling less like he has just messed up his chances. “Write if you need more soup. Or anything else.”

Tony is still dazed from the recent developments when he makes his way to Peter’s room with a bowl full of steaming soup. He cannot imagine how he managed to not send Steve running immediately. The small paper with Steve’s number on it is already safely tucked away on Tony’s desk, and he has, naturally, already saved it in his phone. He will not risk losing it.

Peter is sitting up in his bed, Tony’s cards lying apparently untouched in front of him. Tony does not trust him one bit. Either way, he puts the bowl down carefully on the nightstand and presses the spoon into Peter’s hand without question.

“I don’t want soup,” Peter says, eyeing the bowl with trepidation. The nausea has passed at some point during the night, but the memory of throwing up is still very present.

“Shush, kiddo,” Tony says brightly as he lowers himself back onto the bed. “An actual angel brought this. Blonde, tall, gorgeous.”

Immediately, Peter’s eyes narrow at him. It might be a flaw of character, but Tony has never hidden the fact that it is okay to fancy people, even though he does not bring strangers home with him, of course. He barely has any opportunities for this anyway, since he has become rather conservative since he has taken to being a father.

“Are you talking about our neighbour?” Peter asks with a small grin but also open incredulity. The disbelief might not be that displaced, since Tony has been watching Steve for a while now and has never done anything about it.

“It sounds like you’re pulling through if you can already sass your old man again,” Tony chides gently. He makes no secret out of the relief he feels at seeing some liveliness returning into his son’s features.

Not very subtly, Peter puts the spoon down on his blanket. “You should just ask him out.”

Even while he is thinking of Steve’s number waiting in his phone, Tony still says, “I might have ruined my chances today.” He had been terribly rude, a frantic mess. No one could find that attractive. It is likely that Steve really only left his number in case Tony needs help with Peter after all. He seems like the kind of person who would be nice like that.

“You know what they teach us in school?” Peter asks with as much dryness as an eight-year-old can muster. “Words help.”

Despite himself, a short bout of laughter passes over his lips, before he schools his expression into something appropriately serious.

“Careful, young man. Now eat.” As an afterthought, he adds, “If you eat all of this, I can ask Steve to get us more.”

That said, he should probably eat some himself, just to make sure he does not get sick himself. That is a completely sensible precaution and has nothing to do with emptying the pot more quickly.

And Peter, bless this beautiful child, looks at the soup with disdain but picks up the spoon and dutifully eats the whole bowl, even though he falls back against his pillow afterwards, already half asleep again after this effort.

“Try to sleep, yes?” Tony says afterwards, gathering up their cards so that Peter can lie down completely again. “I’ll be here whenever you need me. Just call.”

Smiling, Peter glances up at him. “I know, Dad. Don’t throw the rest of the soup away so you can bother Mr. Neighbour again. I’ll eat it.”

Tony wonders whether he is this transparent. It is more likely that Peter simply knows him by now. “You’ll be one hell of a heartbreaker one day,” Tony sighs, thinking that this should not feel as much like an accomplishment as it does. “You already play the game well.”

Shrugging against the cushions, Peter blinks up at Tony with utter innocence. The effect is somewhat marred by his eyes dropping closed every couple of seconds. “If the soup helps, I can get out of the bed and just tell neighbour Steve that you like him. Otherwise you’ll never get a date.”

“Excuse you? I’ll have you know –” Tony trails off, face softening as he looks down at his son, already fast asleep.

His own eyes feel heavy, exhaustion pulling at his very bones. He has never planned on being a father and it is sometimes grinding him down. Looking at the real miracle Peter is, though, he would not change this for anything.

Smiling, Tony goes to the kitchen to wash out Peter’s bowl. His phone is sitting innocently on the table but calling out to Tony with a might he cannot resists, even if he had wanted to.

Turning on the coffee machine, Tony pulls up Steve’s brand new contact details and writes him a message.

Thank you for the soup. Peter ate it all and is now asleep.

It feels insufficient, somehow, but Tony has been overwhelming enough for one day already.

Barely a minute later, his phone chimes with Steve’s answer. You’re welcome.

Nothing more. Tony tells himself he is not disappointed by that. He is the one who rejected Steve’s kind offer to help, after all. If everything else fails, he might have to send Peter to get things running again, after all.

The next day, around noon, the doorbell rings again. Peter is doing much better and they have both gotten a full night’s sleep, which has gone a long way to make them feel human again. Peter has even ventured out of his room to lie on the couch, where they are currently watching Lion King – which Tony will never admit he knows all the lyrics for.

Disentangling from his blanket, Tony gets up to open the door. Later, he will deny having hoped it would be Steve, but when he comes face to face with their neighbour again, he cannot help the smile spreading on his face.

“Steve,” he greets, wondering whether he should tone down the enthusiasm. Hakuna matata is running in the background, though, and Tony is not going to dismiss advice from Disney.

“Hey. I don’t want to disturb,” Steve says as if that is a real possibility. “How’s Peter doing?”

“Much better,” Tony exclaims, and there is no exaggerating the relief he feels. “Thank you again.”

Right now, Tony is convinced that it is only thanks to their interaction yesterday that Tony had the energy to keep his sanity intact instead of doing something utterly crazy like going back to the hospital and threaten to purchase it so he can fire everybody who tells him that Peter has a simple cold and just needs to rest. Pepper often tells him he tends to overreact when it comes to people he cares for, and there is no one more important in his life than Peter.

“No problem,” Steve replies simply. His smile turns sympathetic. “I remember this well.”

Tony does not know what to say to that, so they stand awkwardly across from each other. This is the point where he should get the pot to hand it back over and leave Steve be. Being too much of a bother never ends well. Yet, he never seems able to stop.

“I – would you – I mean –”

“He wants to go on a date with you.”

Peter appears out of nowhere, pushing Tony slightly to the side so he can fit into the doorway too. He is wearing Spider-Man pyjamas and has a blanket slung around his shoulders. For all that he has been close to falling asleep only moments before when they were still on the couch, he looks very awake right now, and very interested. He stares up at Steve, at once critical and smiling. Tony has to swallow the urge to reach down and put his hands over Peter’s mouth.

“Peter,” Tony warns. At Steve, he adds, “Ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Fever dreams, you know.”

Apart from raising his eyebrow, Steve does not respond. Instead, he leans down a bit and offers a hand for Peter to shake, which Peter accepts with newfound energy.

“Hello, young man. I’m Steve,” he greets seriously, as if he is constantly being accosted by noisy kids.

“I know,” Peter says with a smile too knowing to belong on such a young face.

Tony knows what is coming. Something along the lines of my dad never shuts up about you, and he has to keep that from happening. “Don’t be rude,” he says firmly and puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Craning his neck to look up, Peter frowns. “You weren’t going to ask him. Again.”

Acutely aware of Steve watching them, Tony shakes his head minutely, inwardly begging his son to stop. “And that’s my decision to make.”

“You’re afraid,” Peter exclaims, the first signs of irritation showing in his tone.

That is enough, Tony decides, and pushes Peter back into their apartment, allowing him not to struggle.

“Get back to the living room,” he says firmly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Because Peter is unmistakeably Tony’s son, he does not leave without getting a last comment in. “Take two. You need to agree on a restaurant after all.”

Unable to meet Steve’s eyes so soon, Tony watches Peter walk back into the apartment, more of a spring in his step than he had in days. That is making Tony happy of course, but he still cannot shake the embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters and runs a hand through his hair before he can stop himself.

“What for?” Steve asks, honestly curious. “He’s delightful.” Just like that, he proves again that he is a thoroughly good human being who does not only bring strangers soup but also lets Tony hit on him via Peter without getting annoyed.

“That’s not a word anyone should ever use for a kid,” Tony replies dryly. “Especially not one with a running nose and a big mouth.”

He cannot quite hide the fondness in his voice, and when he finally looks back up at Steve, they share a smile.

Then Steve shifts his position and looks slightly awkward. “Well, is it true?”

There is only one thing he could be asking about, but Tony does not dare to think about that. “Is what true?” he asks back, trying for innocence.

Something in his tone or face seems to bolster Steve, because he stands a little straighter and does not look away from Tony. “That you want to ask me out on a date.”

Tony bites his lip to keep himself from yelling yes. Instead, he concentrates on a point past Steve’s shoulder and tries to force the blood rushing into his cheeks to return where it belongs.

“I – I’m truly sorry,” Tony says. He is going to ground Peter forever if he has just messed up Tony’s chances even more – at least after they have moved somewhere else, preferably another state to minimize the danger of ever running into Steve again. “I’m afraid I’m not a good role model when it comes to social norms and –”

“Yes,” Steve cuts him off simply, causing Tony to splutter.

He is aware that his behaviour is not always suitable for polite company, but people usually do not call him out on it like this, do not simply agree with him.

“What?” he asks dumbly.

And Steve, in a show of eternal patience, smiles. “If you meant to ask, I’m saying yes.”

Even Tony’s constantly racing and slightly self-sabotaging mind does not find a way to somehow twist these words into meaning something other than Steve agreeing to go out with Tony. Even after close scrutiny, he does not even see any pity on Steve’s face. It is hardly believable, but Steve appears to be serious.

“You – do?” Tony asks nonetheless, unwilling to run headfirst into a trap.

Steve nods, his smile growing wider. “The two minutes are up,” he then says, obvious humour in his tone. “How about next Tuesday? We’ll text later, so you can tell me whether you’ll find a babysitter.”

Mind a mess of conflicted emotions, Tony still realizes that Steve has immediately thought of Peter and that he cannot be left alone an entire evening – which has Tony’s thoughts drifting off to wonder just how long Steve might want their dinner to take.

“I – yes,” Tony exclaims quickly before he lose himself in speculations and forgets all about reality. “Yes. That would be great.”

“Perfect,” Steve says. “And tell me if you need more soup.”

“Will do.”

Only when Steve has already disappeared back into his own apartment does Tony remember the pot sitting freshly cleaned on his kitchen table. Well, that gives him an excuse to visit Steve again later.

Feeling the urge to whistle, Tony closes the door and walks back to the living room. He is going to have a long talk with Peter about appropriate topic of conversation. But perhaps after that date with Steve – a date – depending on how it works out. First, he is going to get them two bowls of ice cream – that is supposed to help with sore throats – to go along with the rest of Lion King.

Then, as soon as Peter is asleep, he is going to make sure that Darcy will be available to watch Peter on Tuesday, even if he has to pay her double. He is not going to miss this chance.

#iron man bingo 3000 #marvel #dad tony #sick fic #stony #getting together #protective steve rogers #precious peter parker #ao3 #my writing

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canumoveurseatup-no · 5 years

Text

Shadow and Shade pt.2

Summary: You let the team know that your son, Thanatos, is soon to come and though you don’t know what he plans on doing, you recruit all the help you can get. Bucky and the team meets your kids and in the midst of all the trouble, he wants to get used to you and your life.

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Goddess!Reader; Avengers x Black!Goddess!Reader

Warnings: A lot of Greek mythology, mention of death (Thanatos), lead up to IW

WC: 5K

I realized while finding all the tags for this, I forgot to tag people in the casting lists I made, so just let me know if you want to know who is casted and I will direct you to the lists!!

A/N: Nyx is my favorite Greek/ primordial Goddess and I’m glad to see so many people like this rendition of her and know of her omg!! Thank you for the support and if you asked to be tagged all I ask is that you leave verbal feedback! <3

It is time.. he is coming

“Who is coming, father?,”

Your son... God of Death.. Thanatos and he will show no mercy. You’ve given him life, only you can stop him.

---------

Bucky slept so peacefully, he can’t remember the last time he slept so good. He didn’t want to wake up just yet but he heard your voice whisper in his ear.

“Wake, my darling,”

His eyes slowly opened and saw the sun peaking through the curtains. You rested your head on your hand with your elbow propped up. You wore a small smile on your face.

“That was great. The dreams, the sleep,” he sighed, “Thank you much,” he smiled at you and you just nodded, placing a kiss on his cheek. You saw his cheeks turn red and you raised your eyebrows in amusement. You realized mortals aren’t used to such random displays of affection like a simple kiss on the cheek.

“I don’t want you to think I’m interested in you just because you can help me sleep,”

You raised up off the bed and opened the blinds, seeing your daughter and son in the distance, sitting atop the clouds.

“I know your heart, James. You have nothing to worry about. That thought never even crossed my mind. But you should get dressed. I had Nick call a meeting because I received word from my father about my duty here,”

“Is everything okay?,”

Bucky noticed how uneasy you seemed. He wanted to comfort you but he was never really good at comfort. You inhaled a shaky breathe before speaking as you were about to walk out the door.

“Only if I can figure out how to stop what’s about to happen. Then it will be okay. He’s coming and usually I can see what’s about to happen but he’s planning something so dark.. s-so dark that it’s clouding my precognition and that has never happened before,” -------

The team sat in the conference room waiting for you and Fury to walk through the doors. They were discussing what could possibly be coming. They figured it was another Chitauri attack but when you and Nick busted through the double doors they realized just by your stance they were wrong.

Bucky noticed your attire and it was something completely different than what you’d been wearing here. It was still all black of course but more regal. The long skirt had a slit on both sides and touched the floor, flowing as you walked and your heels were exceptionally tall. Your top, the shoulders resembling those of a knight’s armor but in gold. You wore gold cuffs on your wrists and your hair was up in a sleek puff and your make up was dark and dramatic but it suited you so well.

“I have received permission from Director Fury to bring you lot back with me to Tartarus, my home. The travel will be safe. If you could keep the questions to a minimum and change into the attire I have put together for you in your rooms and bring yourselves to my chariot that would be great. The reason for this journey will be explained when we get to Tartarus. Thank you,”

“Nick, what is going on??,” Wanda’s voice was full of worry.

“As Agent Nyx has explained. Her chariot is waiting, please change into your designated attire and meet her on the roof,”

Everyone noticed how even Nick himself seemed nervous. Even though he didn’t know much, he knew he didn’t want the God of Death to get the chance to create catastrophe like you said he would.

“Agent Nyx? She’s agent Nyx now?,” Steve arched an eyebrow and Nick just found himself walking out the double doors. Thor brought it to everyone’s attention that they still had to go change and meet you on the roof.

“Best not keep Lady Nyx waiting,” --------

When everyone got to the roof they noticed a big chariot with two black horses with eyes that resemble fire. Peter walked up to one, amazed and intrigued about to touch one until you stopped him.

“Not that one, if you’re gonna pet one, pet her,” You pointed to the other horse that seemed a lot more calm. Peter thanked you for looking out as he pet the girl, the horse huffing in content.

“That one is Shadow, she’s a sweetheart. Her brother Shade on the other hand can be a bit of an ass but he’s still my good boy nonetheless,” You kissed his face and led everyone onto the chariot before getting in, letting Nick know you’d all be back before tomorrow’s sunrise. You shut the chariot door and whistled for your horses to start running off.

“Drink this,” You took out a flask and told them to pass it around.

“What is that?,” Natasha almost gagged at the potion in the flask as she took a sip.

“It’s to make sure mortals like you don’t burn to death when we arrive,” You state simply as you fix your cuffs.

Sam, Pietro and Peter’s eyes almost popped out of their head, “Anyway what does this journey entail? And why do we have to wear these clothes?,” Pietro asked.

“You must wear those as we are going to my home. It’s a respect thing,” You shrug, they do however look nice. Wanda wore a long maroon dress with gold epaulets and sandals that criss crossed up her calf. Her hair was back in a long braid and her make up was light. Natasha’s dress was similar except her dress was forest green and had a golden belt. Tony, Steve, Sam and Pietro’s attire resembled Thor’s normal Asgardian attire. Thor didn’t have to change considering he wasn’t a mortal and his attire resembled those of the warriors of Tartarus. Peter and Clint wore what resembled a toga but in black with pants. Their shoulders adorned in silver. Bucky, you specifically picked that outfit for him.

His top was black leather, with gold shoulder pads and cloth pants and a gold belt with the boots of your most respected warriors, you had put his hair back in a low ponytail and two pieces left out, framing his face. While they all looked of royalty, you made Bucky look like the King as his outfit resembled yours the most. The Queen of your region.

“You will be meeting my kin and my warriors as well as a few of my siblings as you will be training with them to prepare for what is to come,” Peter handed you the flask once everyone received a drink.

“What exactly is coming?,” Tony questioned.

“I will save that for the city meeting once we arrive. Now if you would please close the shades. We will be arriving soon and I don’t want the souls of the damned to suck you in,”

You heard Peter and Pietro whine as Clint mumbled he should have stayed in retirement.

“The ride will get hot but do not fret, it will go away. It will get scary and dark and bumpy. You will hear screams, ignore them. You will know once we arrive in Tartarus. As I said before, you are safe with me,”

You saw most of them go pale and Sam planted his head in his hands. Bucky just sat beside you silently. He closed the shades on his side as Thor closed to shades on his. You waved your hands and a black mist came out and placed itself across their torsos like a seat belt.

“You really have nothing to worry about. You mortals misinterpret Hell. There are different versions. Though where we are going is technically hell, another version is a boiling sea floor stoked by hydro thermal vents and exposed magma. You know how demons and mermaids have dragging human souls down in common? There’s a reason why mermaids are called Sea Demons. Hell is really the deepest depths of the ocean that you mortals have not been able to explore. Poseidon is kind of the devil if you wanna look at it that way because he has a horn-like crown, submerged home and a pitchfork/ trident, he’s really the devil or a version of it. Your bible says it would be better for child abusers and sinners to be chained to an anchor and sent to the bottom of the ocean than to face God’s wrath and that sure sounds a lot like sending them to hell,”

You started rambling trying to take their minds off the trip but that didn’t help them in the slightest.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God. No more trips to Bora Bora, no more trips to Hawaii, no more trips t-,”

“I don’t wanna diiiiie,” Pietro whined and Wanda smacked him upside his head.

“Have a little faith,”

The screams that you mentioned early had started ringing through the chariot. Steve started fanning himself and Natasha started turning red.

“We will meet Styx first as she is the guardian of the passageway. She might be a bit rude, she just has to warm up to you all, which she will during this preparing period. I think you guys will like her though. Especially you Peter,” You couldn’t tell if he was blushing due to the heat or because of what you said. The ride suddenly became bumpy and they all grabbed each other to keep steady.

“We’re almost theeerrre,” you smiled trying to ease them with your sing-song tone.

Bucky grabbed your hand and you could tell he instantly eased unlike the others. It surprised you that you truly brought this man comfort. The ride came to a jerking halt, you released the black mist seat belts and Steve’s face landed right in your cleavage.

“Back up,” Bucky mugged Steve’s face away and back into his seat.

“Mother!,” a voice was heard outside the chariot.

You smiled widely and kicked the door open, crawling over Bucky to get out. You saw your beautiful daughter standing at the edge of the river with her large staff. She wore her dark hooded cloak and you saw her gorgeous white smile. Everyone filed out of the chariot and Styx eyed them, raising her brows in interest.

“Mother, you didn’t tell me you were bringing such... delicious looking guests,” she smiled, stepping close to them.

“She’s not going to eat us is she?,” Sam asked.

“Only if you’re into that, beloved,” she winked at him and saw Peter, her face brightened up and she walked over to him, “Mother, I want this one, I promise I’ll play niiiiice,” she kissed his cheek and smiled sweetly.

Peter blushed and you shooed her away from him so he wasn’t suffocating.

“Peter, she can be very overly affectionate. Though her words are stated a certain way, she means no harm,” Sure Styx was the Goddess of Hatred but once she sees someone or something she likes, she does a complete 180.

She stared at Peter, winking at him and he waved back at her, “I’m of age s-so I’m totally down for it,”

“Peter!,” Tony scolded and you laughed at the bickering. You took Styx’s hand and pulled her toward her boat.

“Your brother is about to cause a universal catastrophe I don’t know how but I need you to take us to my palace so I can call a city meeting and build up an army. I don’t know how this will go but no matter what, I need all the help I can to stop him,”

Styx was attentive and soaked in every word you said before her face showed absolute horror.

“When is he coming?,” her voice was low. You held her face and tried to soothe her, she hated conflict, she was a hateful girl most of the time, but deep down she hated it when trouble came around. She was such a sweet girl and you protected her at all cost.

“I have no idea. That’s why we need to start preparing now. They,” you pointed over your shoulder, “are Earth’s greatest defenders and your grandfather assigned me to them that’s why they are here with me. To help me stop him,”

She nodded her head and actually took a minute to analyze everyone.

“Is that one going to be my step father?,” she pointed at Bucky and you felt your face heat up as you smile bashfully, “his attire is awfully similar to yours and that only happens if you think he’s worthy enough to be your mate,”

“That is a conversation for another time, my love,” you patted her cheek and waved them over to her boat. You watched them file in the boat and you got in last sitting by Bucky. Styx climbed in and started rowing.

“Mother... did you tell the mortals about the hell hounds?”

They all looked at her like she was crazy then back to your for confirmation.

“HELL HOUNDS?!,”

———

The ride on the river wasn’t that long but it did freak them out a little when the crimson river would bubble up and steam in some places. You knew you were home when you saw the bats flying around, smiling at your little babies.

You saw Keres roaming around the garden of withered flowers. She looked over to the river when she heard Pietro and Sam’s bickering.

“Mother is that you?” She jogged over to the river’s edge and smiled wide. She wore a long blood red dress with slits in it, much similar to yours. Pietro practically gawked at her as they all climbed out of the boat.

“Keres!!,” you hugged her tight and kissed her forehead, “oh how I have missed you,”

She smiled at you and hugged Styx, “What are you doing here? I thought grandfather sent you to Earth?,”

You nodded and sighed, “Yes, but my duty calls for all of the help I can get. I notified Oizys already to send out word about a city meeting to discuss,”

She nodded and finally acknowledged the team behind you. She scanned them all and her eyes stopped at Wanda, biting her lip and held out her hand, “Keres, Goddess of violent death but one night with me can bring you to life like never before,” the glint in her eyes dark, winking at the Scarlet Witch.

Wanda blushed and took her hand shaking it, “Wanda,”

You lightly tapped Keres’ arm and scolded her. “I am clearly going to need to have a talk with you all to stop hitting on the mortals,”

Keres whined and rolled her eyes. She was such a spoiled brat and hated being told no.

“Where are your siblings?” You asked. She swung her hair over her shoulder and jerked her head towards your palace

“Feasting. You know how Moros gets when you leave,” she grabbed Wanda’s hand and starts heading off to the palace, “So how long are you here for?”

“Just today,”

Keres grew a mischievous smile on her face,” Well then... I’ve got to show you my chambers while I can,”

“NOT IN MY PALACE!!!,”

——-

You heard Moros’ drunken laughs in the dining hall, mocking one of his uncles, “Moros, you better get your ass off that table this instant! That gold is millenniums old and must be treated with care!”

You walked into the dining hall and saw him immediately sit in his chair and the others look at you wide eyed.

‘’Mother!,” Philotes came up to you, pressing a kiss on your cheek before looking at the team behind you with a confused frown before her eyes landed on Tony, “Philotes. Goddess of affection, friendship and sex. I may seem innocent but one night under the covers with me will have you praying to your God for forgiveness,”

Tony smirked and entertained her antics. Akhyls ran up to you, hugging you tight and turning to Natasha, “Akhyls, Goddess of Misery. I’m not sex crazed like my siblings but I find you very attractive,” she smiled up at Natasha. For her to be millenniums old, she was still short as ever.

Natasha smirked that sultry smirk of hers and nodded at Akhyls, “Not so bad yourself, sweetheart,”

Oizys, baddest bitch of them all, her words verbatim, came right up to Bucky and you eyed her suspiciously. She tucked a silver strand of hair behind her ear and sized him up and down, “Oizys, Goddess of.. you know what, doesn’t matter. Mother told me you mortals were attractive but she didn’t tell me thiiis attractive,” Oizys practically purred at Bucky and you stood in between them.

“Tough shit. Back up and stay in a child’s place,” your tone had gone stone cold and Bucky smiled lightly. Oizys sucked her teeth and winked at Bucky anyway. Oizys loved to defy you so you’d definitely have to keep an eye on her.

“Mother, can I have these ones?,” you turn and see Elpis looking hopeful while she had Sam, Pietro and Steve around her, “I can’t be mean so you know I’ll treat them wonderfully,” she looked hopeful and you scowled.

“I claim him,” Eleos held Thor’s hand and honestly you didn’t dislike that match too much. It fit.

“They’re not playthings, girls!,” Hypnos came up, drinking from his chalice. He properly greeted you with a bow and a kiss on the forehead, “My dear child. The only one with decency around our guests,” you patted his cheek.

“HEY! I’m doing good!,” Geras came and shook his head, “You lot are acting like savages. Step back from the mortals and the... other God, let them breathe,” Geras waved his hand at Thor. Geras was the old soul of them all so he wasn’t really into the whole savagery of sex.

“Oh now we have the old geezer weighing in,” Oizys rolled her eyes, “Anyway, mother. The city knows, even told Hades to let his people know. The meeting will be in about two hours.”

“May I ask what this meeting is? I have an appointment with that hot little mortal soul down by the park of the damned,” He fist bumps Momus and Geras frowns

“Gross,”

“Oh shut up, Ger. Just because you can’t get it up-,”

“I can get it up just fine! Just because I’m the God of old age doesn’t mean it’s dysfunctional!,”

“Would you two shut the hell up!,” you slap them upside their head and they mutter an “ow”

“You can get your little peewee wet another time. This is dire,”

“Haha, peewee,” Keres teased

“You shut it or you can get it too, little missy,”

Keres immediately zips her mouth and you tell them all to get away from the team. You have them follow you and show them where they will be staying and training once you get everything in order and set. Once you give them a quick tour of a portion of the palace, you bring them to your housing quarters. A perfect combination of maroon and black is splashed around your room and everywhere else. Your room is huge and your bed is something larger than a king bed, it’s so huge they don’t eve know what to call it.

“Goddess bed,” you run your hand over the material of your covers, “James, if you would like to stay here rather than the room I have set out for you then just say the word and it can happen,” you pat his left pectoral and kept it moving. Your brought them back out into the dining hall and saw that Hemera and Aether were back. You easily waved your hand and knew that the moon was starting to come around to bring night to the world of the mortals.

“Mother, what is this talk that you’ve brought the mundane?,” Hemera runs to you in her white flowing dress. She eyes the humans behind you and wears a confused frown on her face, “You know how Uncle Tartarus feels about mortals showing up here that haven’t died, mother,” She warns.

“Hemera, mortal guests will be the least of our worries, now stop frowning, you’ll get wrinkles in that pretty little face,” you patted her cheek and she swatted your hand away and groaned.

“Hello, mother,” Aether came up to you and kissed your cheek, “We have missed you and Hemera apologizes,” he glares at his sister, “For her informal greeting. We have heard that grandfather has finally given you word on your duty. What does it entail?,”

“I have raised some impatient ass children haven’t I?,” You walk over to the table and sit, telling the others to join you, “Sit and feast,” you snap your fingers and the mess Moros has made was cleaned up and fresh, delicious food appeared on the table. If you were Mystery Inc., Sam would be Shaggy and Pietro would be Scooby, they rushed over to the table and started devouring the food.

“Guys have some manners,” Steve scolded, “You are literally in he presence of Gods and Goddesses here,”

You waved your hand and laughed as your children sat as well and plated their food, “Wait until you see how my boys eat. It’s nothing compared to them,”

A loud belch comes from Momus and he laughs along with Moros. Elpis swats their shoulders and tells them to have some manners as well.

“I would just like to say that I will not support the idea of having a mortal step father,” Geras blurted.

“I second that,” Hemera side eyed you. You drank from your chalice and frowned.

“Who said anything of the sort?,” You arched a brow.

“It’s clear, Mother. You have raised us to be plenty of things but stupid is not one of them. Look at everyone’s attire compared to that one,” Hemera pointed to Bucky and his breath hitched, “It literally matches yours,”

“I’m not quite sure was has crawled up your ass, Hemera, but you will respect me and my guests especially in my own palace, watch who you’re talking to,”

She huffed and sat back in her chair playing with her fork, “You know it’s forbidden,” she hissed. With your shadow mist, you popped her in her mouth like she was a young child and she whined.

“You may be millenniums old but I am still your mother. Now watch it. Until I have confirmed any feelings for any mortal, you keep that mouth of yours shut, do you hear me?,”

She side eyed you yet again and nodded, “I asked you a question, Hemera!,” you flared your nostrils, “Do. you. hear. me?,”

With a tight lipped smiled she looks at you, “Loud and clear,”

You sighed and turned your attention back to the team and your other kids, “What has been happening since my departure?,” you asked sweetly.

“Akhyls and Moros have been wreaking havoc on the mortal souls,” Eleos admits and Akhyls slams her fists on the table, “You are such a snitch!,” she growls

“Philotes has been roaming Earth again and sleeping with mortals,” Geras almost gags.

“For the love of Gaia, can you just loosen up for once in your life?,”

“Like you have between your legs?,”

“I am a Goddess it never gets loose,”

“Oh really?,” Tony asks intrigued.

“Cut it out!,” Bucky’s voice finally booms throughout the dining chamber and everyone shuts up. Most of your children seem offended that a mortal such as Bucky had the nerve to tell them what to do.

“I like a man who can take control,” Oizys leans forward and smirks. You glare at her and shake your head, “I will lock you away if need be. Now watch it,”

“When I asked what has been happening I didn’t mean tattle tale on your siblings like three year old children. I mean has anything weird been happening,” You sigh and rub your temples.

“The river has been going grey here and there which is odd,” Styx recalls.

“The screams of the damned have been quiet lately and I did find that weird. Scary almost,” Keres adds. You hum in interest and nod your head and check the time. You still have a bit of time before your announcement.

“Thanatos has also gone missing. We usually keep in touch but I have heard nothing from him,” Oizys says and you were relieved that the words that left her mouth weren’t about Bucky. You looked at the team and they slowed their eating down.

“That’s the God of Death right?,” Natasha questions, “You briefly mentioned him when you first came. Is he who the announcement is about? Is he the reason you seem so worried?,”

You nodded and took another gulp from your chalice, “Thanatos has an admiration for omnicide and he always has been since the beginning of human life. He is the God of peaceful death but he claims mortals need to start anew as their resources have gone finite. I figured he was just talking but when father came to me last night I knew it was much more than that. Thanatos hates mortals and deities alike meaning you, Avengers, are not the only ones at risk, but my people are as well,” You could hear everyone’s breath hitch from around the long table. “And not even just us, but all living things around the entire universe. Not just your galaxy, not just my world. But all worlds and galaxies alike,” You felt Bucky’s hand on yours and he squeezed it in comfort.

You felt Eleos use her abilities to calm everyone around the room. The trumpets sounded and you knew it was time for the announcement as you heard the voices of minor Gods and Goddesses as well as the souls and warriors. You took a deep breath and stood up from your seat.

“Geras, lead everyone out into the courtyard, I will start soon,” you played with your hands and started down the hallway to head to your bedroom and to your balcony as you would be giving the announcement from there, it was the best place as you could see everything in the courtyard from there.

Bucky came up behind you and grabbed your wrist, turning you around. He kissed your forehead and leaned his against yours, “If everything doesn’t turn to shit, I’d like to build things up to possibly be the stepfather of bickering Gods and Goddesses,” he lightly smiles which made you relax and smile back at him.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. Now head back, the announcement won’t take long,” You kissed his cheek and pushed him down the hall and he watched you walk away and open the doors to your balcony, hearing the outbursts of everyone in the courtyard.

----------

“Training will begin immediately. I am not sure of the forces Thanatos will bring with him but we must be prepared for every and anything. Even lost lives,”

You were wrapping up the announcement as it had been going for thirty minutes due to questions and roars of interruption. You could see everyone visibly tense. You saw the way Styx leaned into Peter and held his hand. You could see how Wanda wrapped herself around her brother’s arm as Vision comforted her by rubbing her back. Some of the warriors seemed adamant but they made an oath to not just you but Tartarus to fight if war ever came.

“Hopefully,” you sighed and your shoulders trembled as your breathed out, “Hopefully, it will not come to that,” You nodded and tried to give an assuring smile.

“For Tartarus,” You raised your fist in the air and the courtyard started to chant back at you as your retreated back in the house. You knew you would have to have a council meeting with Gaia, Tartarus, Erebus, Hades and everyone else. But that would happen later. The chanting died down as you reached the foyer and saw your children and the team sitting there. Hemera came up to you and frowned, she hugged you and apologized, her actions had taken you aback as she rarely shows any physical affection towards you.

“I’m scared. What if I lose you, or one of my brothers or sisters?,” she whined. You knew technically you couldn’t die, as night was always needed. But your children on the other hand, some of them were minor Gods and Goddesses so anything could happen, but you didn’t want to worry her. The others came up to you and added to the hug. The team stood behind and watched. One minute they were all arguing and throwing shots at each other but now you were hugging and whispering I love you’s.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, my loves,”

Eleos started to become overwhelmed as feelings of pity were strong in the air, “Calm down, my sweet, Ellie. We will make it,” You tried to keep your voice strong so you sounded convincing but you knew that if you couldn’t convince yourself then you weren’t doing a well enough job convincing them.

“Everyone get some rest,” you kissed your children goodnight and sent them to their chambers, alone, “As for you all,” you turned to the team and somberly smiled, “We have an early departure so get some rest, for as soon as we get back I have another meeting and we will discuss plans to prepare for what is to come,”

Bucky came up and took your hand before leading you to your room. He helped you undress and get you into your night clothes and into bed, you swiped his clothes away with your shadow mist and dressed him in night attire as he crawled in with you.

“Do you wish for me to help you sleep?,” your voice was low and full of worry.

“No, but I wish for you to trust me and tell me what is going on inside that head of yours,” he ran a thumb over your cheek.

“Never, in all my time of living has my precognition been this blurry and fogged. All I can see is colors of red, blue, yellow, purple, green, and orange. I can’t see what he’s doing or planning, that has never happened. It must be something so sickening that even I can’t see it. I’ll contact Gaia when we get back and see if she can see anything... if not... then we’re in trouble, James,”

---------

OOOUUUUUU WHAT IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN?! (yeah we all know but like... this version will be different so stay tuned!)

Thank you all for your support. Will get part 3 out once this part gets to 100-150 notes.

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