#thecitywritesshow
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At World’s End
For @ishipallthings, @codeflaws, and to any one else suffering because of yesterday’s trailer. Have some fluff. Mostly. (This is Part One.)
Tony looks across the battle field and thinks this is it. This is it, this is it.
It; how chaotic it seems, for what it is. It’s not the end, no; it’s just his choice.
The Avengers are fighting. Those lost are returned, the fallen raised, and into a bloodbath they’ve come. They fight is messy, and there’s far too many of them making efforts to fight just one man. But he will go down – or they’ll go down trying.
Tony has his sensors split – most of it tracks the Avengers, as many as they are now. They’re all still fighting, those that they didn’t send immediately home (he hopes that this time Peter went back, Tony doesn’t want him here, never again). The rest of it, a lesser but not inconsequential amount, tracks Steve.
God, this whole thing is a mess.
He misses Jarvis in his ear.
(Beware the cut!)
He’d staggered from the ship months ago, and Pepper had wrapped him into a hug he was so relieved to accept – but then Steve had been reaching for him too, unconscious, and Tony had gone.
“I don’t forgive you.” Tony had growled into his chest, even as he’d buried his face in Steve’s chest and his hands in his shirt. “I don’t,” but it sounded like I do, and Steve had hugged him tightly.
They’ve been standing shoulder to shoulder for months now. Plans upon plans and they’re a tactical front, through grief and tears they’re a united front, and even now when they argue, they’re together. They’re going to finish this together.
“Sir,” Friday’s lilt brings him out of automatic into the fray, and it’s jarring. If this is how the end comes, he almost wishes for the Battle of New York, and the quiet crushing death of space. He could almost wish for the ship he’d staggered from not a year ago, but no… Whatever it takes, he’ll see this through.
He’s fighting with Steve, and it’s how it always should be. Back to back and side by side, a shield returned to its rightful owner – they’re not losing yet. None of them are down and Thanos’s chitauri continue to fall. Thanos himself is almost at his knees.
Steve staggers back into him, but shoots him a slightly manic grin and is straight back into the fray, and Tony steps after him without thought, a grin gracing his face.
“Steve!” Tony calls out – and he retracts the helmet. He can still protect his face. Steve whirls, still fighting. He trusts Tony without thought to have his back. “Will you marry me?” Tony says. Steve’s jaw drops open.
“I don’t think now is the time, Tony!” Steve yells back, seeing last second a fist that he slams out of the way. Tony can see Stephen give them a funny look, but Tony doesn’t care. He never should’ve.
“Now may be the only time!” Tony blasts the thing looming over Steve’s shoulder, catching Steve’s arm – a brief second of solace in the fight to lock eyes. “I love you.” Tony can’t read Steve’s gaze beyond hope. “I’ve made my choice. What’s yours?” Steve’s staring at him like he’s mad – but Tony’s got nothing in him to worry about it now. Steve’s always thought he was mad – and always loved him for it too, even when they fought. Steve looks away, looking for someone else among the fight-
“Clint!” Steve yells, and Tony has two seconds to think what the actual fuck do you mean ‘Clint’?! before Steve is grinning brightly. “Marry us!” Oh yeah. Clint got ordained in Vegas, way back when.
Clint does stop fighting then, kicking a chitauri in the chest and turning to gap at the pair of them. “I’m a little fucking busy at the moment!” He gestures around them, as if they could’ve failed to remember the situation that they’re in.
“Just do it!” Tony shouts back – and god he’s grinning and laughing, and Clint’s too busy punching something in the face-
“Clint, now!” Bucky yells – barrelling past on the shoulders of a chitauri, Rocket still perched on his shoulder before springing off.
“Fine then!” Clint snaps. “Dearly beloved we are gathered here today,” he starts, and nearly gets beheaded by a chitauri, but Tony takes a well-placed shot and if Clint’s hair was growing out before it’s not now. Clint turns to deal with them, and Tony decides to take his cue.
“Steven Rogers,” Tony starts, and Steve’s eyes are bright – Tony retracts the gauntlet because fuck it, he can fight one handed, and Steve’s already reaching for him. “Do you take me, to be your husband?”
“I do!” Steve’s grin is wonderful, and if he didn’t need to swing them around to land a hit before one of them gets killed, Tony’d kiss him. “Anthony Stark, do you take me,” Steve flings his shield, and they’re whirling again so Steve can catch the physics-defying thing, “to be your husband?”
Tony catches him again, drawing them close. “I do,” he says, and there’s every atom of sincerity he’s ever been able to muster in his words.
Clint’s words seem to ring out over the fight. “By the power invested in me, by a planet a fuck off long way from here, I now pronounce you-,” his words are lost for a second to the roar of the hulk, not far off and socking Thanos in the face, “-and husband,” Tony looks and Steve and thinks holy shit you’re my husband. “You may kiss!”
Tony leans in, but they are in a battlefield and he has to take a moment to stop his husband (husband! Husband, husband, holy shit-) from being impaled. “Just kiss!” Natasha yells – and she’s grinning at Clint’s shoulder, fighting at the archer’s six, because that’s where she fought best before and fights best now. It’s Steve who clasps his arm this time, tugging them both in – half dipped in a battle field, and Tony can’t help but wrap both his arms around Steve’s neck because-
Because, for a moment, it’s just them. Just the two of them. There’s no battle, there’s no universe-depending consequences, no titan, guardians, new sorcerers or resurrections a plenty, just- Captain America and Iron Man. Together, as the universe intended.
It’s empowering – god, they should get married every battle if this is what it does for team morale – and something in Tony is laughing, is absolutely joyous in the midst of all this insanity. It no longer feels like they’re out numbered, and they’ve almost got the gauntlet from Thanos. No more tricks, no more taunts and;
The gauntlet slips away from the mad titan’s reach and with it, most of his army. They’ve done it. Tony seeks Steve out again;
It’s a moment too late, that he realises-
“Steve!” Tony calls out, blast firing, but the damage is done. Steve cries out as the blade sinks into his back. “Steve, no!” The suit releases him as he staggers forward, the battle field still, and he’s the first to make it there, “Steve no, no, you can’t leave me, not now…
“Steve, no, look at me, stay with me.
“Steve.”
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"By the power invested in me, by a planet a fuck off long way from here, I now pronounce you-"
Stevetony getting married mid battle a la Elizabeth and Will anyone??? Cuz I'm writing it. Like it'll be up tonight hopefully. Anyone?
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2019 In Fic
Okay so I think I did something towards the end of last year (like, November) asking y’all to vote on what Big Fic I should work on next, which was all well and good, but then I lost the plot in terms of mental health and uni work, so. Take two, new year, let’s see how this goes...
I have three Big Fics I want to try and finish this year. Two of them, I’m willing to collaborate on, with one of them I don’t think I can do on my own. I’m putting them out here for public record.
(Watch for the cut!)
Cross My Heart (And Hope It’s Yours)
Based off a post of @goodmorningbeloved‘s that I can no longer find but saved at the time, it’s a Stony soulmate fic, set post-IW but not actually IW compliant. It’s got time travel shenanigans, angst like woah, and an eventual happy ending. I was think Steve/Tony, unrequited Bucky/Steve, Bruce/Bucky/Nat, Pepper/Sam, Rhodey/Carol and Thor/Jane (according to my notes).
This is the one I can’t do on my own. I have the chapter list sat here, plus a couple of snippets, but I’m kind of scared to build it otherwise. @laexploradoraaa did you say you were interested in this?
Here’s a little snippet;
Tony glances down at his wrist. He’s in the rubble of New York where he was before. The same people are gathered around – he was gone for months, but he was gone for less than a moment. He’s not the only one surprised.
The X is still there.
A mark as if drawn on in black ink, like he’s seen on the skin of so many people and never seen on his own. He’s still waiting for it to disappear, he realises, but it’s not fading. There’s small changes happening to the situation; whatever he changed, it’s helping. The X isn’t fading.
He looks up, and finds Bruce before he finds him.
“Time is more linear than we thought.” Tony says, and then he starts to laugh.
Beautiful Clocks (Time Is A Beastly Thing)
This one is one I wouldn’t mind assistance with - whether it’s a collaborator, someone to do Tony’s POV, a beta/cheer-reader... I don’t mind. It’s a Stony Beauty and the Beast AU, with a time-loop twist based off some meta I saw when the most recent Beauty and the Beast came out. I have it casted, I have a chapter list with each chapter having a small blurb, I just... can’t get the feel quite right when I sit down to type. Here’s the blurb for a better feel, lmk if you’re interested! @ishipallthings, this might interest you?
They weren’t truly sure which one of them had been cursed. Prince Steven, confined to a weak, sickly form, a runtish thing with tooth and claw – no slight to his vanity, for he had none, but a slight to his pride; for how can he defend his people when he cannot even walk his stairs without the need for a rest? When he can no longer lift his sword?
His friends, his family… all of them trapped with him, having refused to leave. Ornaments and crockery, now. With soul and mind but no beating heart.
They become more ornamental with each passing re-run… all of them trapped in this cycle, week after week after the week.
Each week the merchant comes. Each week the son makes the trade. Each week, Steve falls a little further in love, knowing that he’s never going to be loved in return.
Birds From A Cage
This one I’ve got covered. A slowbuild poly-soulmate fic for Tony/Bruce/Nat/Steve/Bucky, that now it actually has a title I think fits it, I’m ready to go! If you wanna ask my questions about this verse, hmu, but I’m not going to say too much here because I’m happier in my ability to do this one. I will, however, leave you with a snippet;
The graveyard is empty when the façade finally drops.
And the names don’t appear on the Hulk’s skin.
They’re stark against skin cold from the ice,
And where the red room had already given up trying to burn them off,
Hydra have no such sense.
Damage. That’s what ties these five together.
The past… it’s cold and it’s raining. Three are lost to snow and ice, and three are behind fists – Tony is lost to grief. Grief for his missing soulmates, only two of whom he knows, and grief for his Mama.
What a mess, Tony thinks numbly; numb fingers, numb cheeks, numb heart, numb mind. Nothing hurts more than the ache in his chest, for his Mama, and his Jarvis, for just someone who loves him, to be there, and telling him it’ll be okay.
But Steve Rogers is lost to the ice and the ocean.
Bruce Banner still hides from his father’s fists.
Natalia Romanova has entered the red room,
And James Barnes is prisoner in his own head.
Tony Stark is seventeen, halfway to eighteen… it won’t be long before he’s lost to the bottle.
Not for the first time, and not for the last, Tony takes his turn and wonders how any of this is worth it.
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WIP Picking
Okay, I know I don’t have many interactive followers, but I need opinions. I have several Big Fics underway, and I don’t know which one I want to concentrate on first. So, I’m asking y’all to vote (and I will shamelessly tag a bunch of people who’s opinions I would love, sorry not sorry). The options are…
(beware the cut!!)
Softly, With Starry Eyes
He reaches out to tuck a fallen curl behind Tony’s ear. Tony can feel the nerves sitting in Steve’s gut, but all he can feel is relief.
Maybe this won’t be so hard.
“Dinner.” Steve says, breaking Tony out of his thoughts. “We should have dinner first.” He’s smiling, and his fingers are still tracing Tony’s cheek. Tony reaches up to intertwine them with his own.
“Dinner,” he echoes. “We can do that.”
A shared emotions soulmate AU in which everyone expects Steve and Tony to angst over the situation and continue their antagonist barely-even-co-workers style relationship for Some Time, but what actually happens is a healthy embarkment into a strong and trusting romantic relationship.
I did say this is an AU.
Featuring; Tony actually wants a soulmate, the two most stubborn individuals on the planet, some rare-pairs because fight-me, and really not that much angst at all.
Tony/Steve, Clint/Bruce/Bucky, Rhodey/Nat, Jan/Pep, Thor&Loki.
thank you, kind ghost
A long ass fic that leads into a complex universe, injecting a large supernatural element into the MCU universe. Written for @kiernaserea, it features Ghost!Steve haunting Tony as he grows up, and them eventually being able to get to know eachother.
Large focus on slow-build Steve-Tony, Steve&Maria friendship, and Tony becoming the Tony we all know and love.
Tony fusses over the bots quietly, but eventually he turns to where Steve stands, his hand not in the sling coming to rest on Dum-E’s head. “So you’re my kind ghost?” he asks, and his voice is shaking. “Steven fucking Rogers…” he murmurs around a smile so fragile, that Steve can’t help but quip;
“There should be a Captain in there somewhere.” and though his voice is breaking, Tony smiles and he’s laughing, and perhaps it’s slightly hysterical but the haunted look fades a little behind his eyes. Steve smiles back easily and lets Tony laugh. He stops eventually, propping himself up on Dum-E - who’s more than happy to stay there and be a prop - and for a moment he just stares at Steve.
“Do I want to know?” he asks after a moment, and swallows hard. “My mother-” he stops himself. Steve wishes he could pull the man into a hug.
“She wants to see you.” Steve settles on, when it's clear that Tony’s not going to speak. “But she doesn't want to make this worse.” Tony's eyes go wide.
“What the fuck is going on? Because you- you and her are very dead.” he freezes then. “Did I die, is that it? Or is this some form of punishment-?”
“No! No, it's-” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “You're not dead, Tony. I don't know how you can see us now, but you can, so that's a, that's a, a thing.” Tony's got one eyebrow raised at him. “You're not crazy, I swear.” Steve tells him, because he knows what Tony is thinking.
“So I'm just supposed to accept that Captain America decided to spend his afterlife haunting the fuck out of me?”
“If you could that would really speed this explanation up.”
The Soulmate Situation
A poly-soulmate, names on skin fic, where Tony, Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Bruce all share a bond. Slow-build, mild emotional angst, but mostly just them feeling out each other’s broken edges and getting together. It’s got a lot to it with no substance, at present. A snippet of the prologue, to give a feel…
Time likes to play games.
Meeting soulmates two and three is something of a clusterfuck.
Steve Rogers isn’t dead.
(He thought he was though, he’d made peace with that, and now he’s in a future and screaming that he shouldn’t be here even if most of his soulmates are).
There’s a god in the room and another out to get them, and oh, Bruce Banner’s smirk is adorable but his walls are up (- and he’s furiously trying to barricade himself up behind them, muttering this is bad this is bad this is bad-) and he’s tense as hell. Tony’s never felt more alone in a crowded room that he does right now.
Three names in touching distance, and about as far away as they could be. No friends.
No allies.
He’s never been called a team player, and maybe this is why.
It’s all any of them ever wanted to be.
+
Tony looks down, and they look up. Nuke in hand, Tony’s 99% assured of his own imminent destruction. Time will take him back too soon. He wonders if there are words.
They all do.
I’m sorry seems quite prevalent. Forgive me, hot on its heels.
They’ll be Tony’s dying words, if he does speak, but he’s no poet and there’s nothing worthy that he can make pass his lips.
There’s worse things to die for, Tony thinks to himself, and then the universe is stretching out before him. He closes his eyes to the endless abyss and the armada beyond with a smile and a not-quite prayer, and hope that wherever he’s destined for James will be waiting.
Steve smiles like the sun when he wakes on a roar, and Tony thinks to himself there are worse things to live for.
Cross My Heart
Based, with permission on a complex ass idea of @goodmorningbeloved’s that I was very eager for, planned, and then had a very bad drop in mental health. If you vote for this, I’m going to need help. I can’t do this fic alone. The opening, to give a feel…
It starts like this.
Tony glances down at his wrist. He’s in the rubble of New York where he was before. The same people are gathered around – he was gone for months, but he was gone for less than a moment. He’s not the only one surprised.
The X is still there.
A mark as if drawn on in black ink, like he’s seen on the skin of so many people and never seen on his own. He’s still waiting for it to disappear, he realises, but it’s not fading. There’s small changes happening to the situation; whatever he changed, it’s helping. The X isn’t fading.
He looks up, and finds Bruce before he finds him.
“Time is more linear than we thought.” Tony says, and then he starts to laugh.
For Tony, it starts like this.
Tony feels like he’s committing some form of cardinal sin.
It’s not unusual for the crossed – those with their soulmate X’s – to sleep with other people, even the uncrossed. It would be silly not to, so often people don’t know who caused the X to appear on their wrists.
But this is Captain America.
Fuck that, it’s Steve Rogers, who’s damn well meant to be untouchable to someone like Tony. He’s just so touchable though, and he started it.
When this all comes crashing down around his ears, Tony will remember. Steve started this.
For Steve, it starts like this.
He walks fast, avoiding people on the streets as they bustle past, avoids the alleyway and- wait. Tony walks back a few steps, and before it honestly registers what he’s seeing, he’s calling out “hey!” The two taller men step apart for a moment, and Tony gets a flash of blond hair from the guy they were kicking the shit of before they turn to him. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size? Maybe without ganging up on him like cowards?” The men sneer, glancing at each other, and with a sigh Tony holds open his jacket to show them the revolver he’s got tucked in his belt. “Pull the other one, fellas.” He says – god it’s only been a month and he’s picking up the slang in a way he never had when it was just Steve to learn it from. The men pale, and leave in a huff.
Tony’s holding out a hand to help the poor guy up, and it’s not until he’s staring into a pair of blue eyes he knows as intimately as he knows himself, that Tony realises he’s just fucked up.
There’s an X on his wrist, to match the one on Steve’s.
Part of him wants to laugh that he’s always been jealous of himself, and the rest of him seems to be sending in an error report.
“You didn’t have to do that…?” Steve trails off into a question, and Tony coughs, wishing he didn’t have to lie about his name but knowing he must.
“Edward.” He says. “And I couldn’t just let my best fella get beaten.”
The middle?
Well.
That’s complicated.
The Road Through Hell (Is Paved With Fucking Landmines)
Welcome to the best Worst Road Trip fic you’ll ever read; where everyone's crazy, the war doesn’t matter, and the only thing being counted are the bullet holes in Howard's Aston Martin.
A fic featuring Tony, Natasha, Loki, Clint and Sam going AWOL amid my version of WW3 to go and rescue the unit that Steve, Bucky and Thor are assigned where it has been lost and abandoned behind enemy lines. The war is in the background, this features SteveTony letters, ridiculous jokes and dark moments, but a surprising lack of angst. Hopefully.
Treasure of the Heart
When Steve Rogers comes to see him, and wishes to find his brother, Bruce knows that to grant his wish will set a chain of events in motion. Events that could tear apart the kingdom, and will probably break his heart.
He says yes anyway.
Wish-granter!Witch!Bruce, pre-serum!adventurer!Steve, soul-forger!Tony, assassin!Natasha, half-elf!theif!Clint, dwarven!Thor, knight!Rhodey, cleric!Pepper and faye!Jan. Also featuring Dummy, Jarvis, You and Butterfingers as soul-wisps, a Peter&Harley&Kamala cameo, and a past to remain where it lays.
It’s a Bruce/Bucky fic, with an on-going plan that’s sat in a chat. I’m fond of it, even if it drives me nuts.
(If people were looking for The Stark’s High Society Orphans Club on this list, I apologise, but also promise that that fic is always on-going, but it also never had a plan. I’m still writing it, but it gets more attention than all of these and gets difficult at every turn).
@ishipallthings @itsallavengers @xtaticpearlsblog @codeflaws @savedbythenotepad @itstheallmother @reioka @agenderraskel @viudanegraaa uh… fuck, just, please?? Help me?? I don’t know which to work on and I’d prefer to work on something people would actually like to read!!
(People can reblog this. Please reblog this. I’ll come back and look at 17/08 8pm GMT. Wait no GMT plus 1, it’s summer. Friday, I’m looking on Friday).
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Give me a ship and a one word prompt!
Or hey - do this!! I will (eventually) get to what I've got but they're all super detailed!!! I need to learn to write comprehensive yet shot things (I'm in capable of less than 3k atm). Hmu!! I will do most marvel ships (not IronStr*nge, St*rker or Th*rki) or if you see me reblog a fandom, try me. I like new things.
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I need an Avengers Maze Runner AU. I rewatching the first two films and finally watched the third and I'm so in love.
Does anyone know if an AU exists, or do I have to do it myself?
The first film is a really good adaption and the second and third improve vastly on what I didn't really enjoy as books. They also managed to take one of the gayest parts of the third book and add like 4 extra romantic tropes to it and my heart still hurts from it, it was fecking delightful. It's one of those moments where if the character had made you know they'd have worked it out somehow. It just felt... good, even if it hurt. I enjoyed it a whole lot.
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Fandom: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, Raleigh Becket/Mako Mori (minor), Nate Lambert/Jules Reyes (minor), Nate Lambert/Jake Pentecost/Jules Reyes (implied).
Characters: Hermann Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler, Liwen Shao, Jake Pentecost, Nate Lambert, Raleigh Becket, Mako Mori, Tendo Choi
Additional Tags: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Happy Ending, Fix-It, Pacific Rim: Uprising Spoilers, Mako Mori Lives, Hermann's POV
Words: 2190 Chapter: 1/?
I wish he was here, Newt thinks, a little hysterically, and then hates himself for thinking it. No, he doesn’t, because he wouldn’t wish this mess on anyone.
The first thing Hermann Gottleib did when it had all sunk in, was cry.
The second thing was visiting Newt’s apartment. He found his own letters – opened and cried on – and he found Alice. Alice… a thing, not a her, and god, Newton had wanted them to meet, he’d wanted Hermann to know. He could’ve done so much more if he’d known.
A post-Uprising fix-it.
Title taken from "I Wanna Get Better" by the Bleachers, that I was listening to when I thought of this fic.
A/N: I am shameless, and I have no self control. I’m distracting myself from the IW clusterfuck with these nerds. Tagging @kraventry, @redfrohoe and @laughingfish who commented on the post I put up saying this had accidentally happened.
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Beloved
For the wonderful @ishipallthings, yet again. Part of my new series “Write Your Name On My Heart (It’s Already There)” - a soulmate AU where when you write on your skin, it appears on your soulmates. It can be found on Ao3 here.
Steve wakes up on the morning of his 18th birthday and takes a moment to just breathe.
He never thought he’d make it to 18, and he’s still not convinced that he’s going to have a soulmate. He’s scrawny and mouthy and has spent half his life in a hospital, either ill or being patched up from a fight. He’s been doodling on his skin all his life, practicing and making notes – but from today on, theoretically, those doodles might appear on someone’s skin. He might have someone’s doodles on his. He’s almost scared to look-
(Mobile users, beware the read more!)
A tell-tale itch sweeps over his left forearm, and Steve brings his arm up to watch, wide-eyed, as words dance across his skin. Good morning beloved, happy birthday! Here’s hoping today’s the day!! it reads, in thick, scruffy scrawl. Steve stares at it in shock for a moment, before scrambling out of bed with a whoop.
“Steven?” his ma asks, shocked but smiling as he barrels into the kitchen, still shirtless with his pyjamas pooling around his ankles.
“I need a pen!” he’s grinning so hard his face hurts. “Pen, pen pen!” he chants, searching through the pile of papers to the side of the table to find one. Sarah dips to kiss his cheeks, but turns back to where she’s cooking at the stove as he pulls one victoriously from the pile.
Thank you soulmate! Steve writes back in his own spidery scrawl. Happy 4th of July! He sits down at the table, and watches with bated breath for a reply. Sarah sets the customary birthday pancakes in front of him, and when he glances up at her, she’s grinning with tears in her eyes – apparently Steve hadn’t been the only one worried. He glances back down, in time to see part of “birthday” smudge and run down like- is his soulmate crying? Steve is about to ask when a reply starts to dance under his own. !!!!! is all it says at first, and Steve can’t help but laugh. It’s so good to finally meet you! I’m Tony, and you are?
I’m Steve. It’s good to meet you too!
Tony has to take a deep breath before he writes on his skin each morning.
It’s been so many days since he turned eighteen – eight hundred and three, to be exact – and he’s never had a response. Howard says they don’t want him or he doesn’t have one, and the look in Maria’s eyes says that she thinks his soulmate is already dead. Rhodey promises him that he’s just the older one of the two of them, that that’s all it is, but he’s 20 now. He’s got one PhD and he’s already planning his next, he’s going to revolutionise robotics and artificial intelligence – Stark Industries will go far when he’s at the helm, with the fiery Pepper Potts at his side – but all he’s ever wanted is to be loved. He didn’t get it from his parents and he didn’t get it from his peers… Jarvis died when he was too young to have made the most of what he had in him, and now…
He expels all his resentment for the universe on a single breath, and reaches for the pen he keeps on his bedside table specifically for this purpose. He’s at Rhodey’s parents for the holiday, and the sentimentally of the closest thing he’s ever had to a real family makes him chose ‘beloved’ today.
Good morning beloved, happy birthday! Here’s hoping today’s the day!! He writes, and then he caps the pen and puts it down, pulling on his shirt and heading downstairs – he can smell the pancakes Rhodey’s mom, Roberta, is making.
He’s halfway down the stairs when his arm begins to itch, and he stops dead, yanking up his sleeve. Thank you soulmate! is being scrawled hastily. Happy 4th of July! follows it, and Tony yelps. He scrambles back up the stairs for the pen, ignoring Rhodey as he calls worriedly up the stairs.
He’s crying, he can’t help it, but it’s been two years of waiting and waiting and hoping. Initially all he can put is a shaky few exclamation marks, just to let his soulmate know he’s here. He’s here, and they’re never going to have to wonder like he did. It’s so good to finally meet you! It’s shaky, but he can’t even care. I’m Tony, and you are? he asks, sitting down hard on the edge of the bed.
“Tony? You okay?” Rhodey calls out from the stairs, and Tony hastily tries to wipe his eyes as I’m Steve. It’s good to meet you too! appears in spidery scrawl that Tony loves already. “Tony?” Rhodey asks as he appears in the doorway. Tony grins up at him, so hard that his face hurts. “What’s-?” he starts to ask, but the itch on Tony’s arm starts up again and draws both their gazes. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. Tony can’t help but laugh.
You had me worried there, I’ll admit. But it’s worth it. He’s still grinning as Rhodey tugs him up off the bed – the pen’s barely clear of his skin – to hug him so tight his feet leave the ground. Rhodey’s laughing and Tony’s laughing as he buries face in Rhodey’s shoulder. “Today’s the day.” He mumbles into Rhodey’s shoulder, and Rhodey presses a kiss to the top of his head.
“Today’s the day!” He replies, and Tony feels like he could burst he’s so happy. Rhodey lets him go, squeezing his shoulder and heading back downstairs. I hope you continue to think that Steve’s written while they’ve been hugging. Tony’s too busy grinning at it that he yelps, taken by surprise, when Rhodey comes back to drag him down the stairs. “Bring the pen with you, idiot.”
I will, I just know it. It’s disjointed as he’s writing while Rhodey drags him, but once he’s down the stairs Rhodey lets him go. I mean you’re a dude, so you’re already off to a good start he adds, and hopes it makes Steve laugh.
“What’s got you distracted son?” David Rhodes asks him, gruff but smiling as he steers Tony into the kitchen to sit at the table.
“Just my soulmate.” Tony tells him, happy to see how his face lights up before he, too, tugs Tony into something of a bear hug. That made my ma laugh, is there when Tony looks again. Glad to know the feeling’s mutual. Tony grins.
“I’m so happy for you son.” David tells him, clapping him on the shoulder quite like Rhodey does, and taking his seat.
“What’s that?” Roberta asks idly from the stove, but Tony lets Rhodey explain, scrawling out a reply. So mutual, you have no idea. Pretty boys are my weakness. “Oh Tony!” She exclaims when Rhodey’s told, and she kisses both his cheeks before she returns to the cooking.
“Maybe you should exchange phone numbers? Before you run out of space?” Rhodey asks, smirking, and Tony’s too happy to do any more than stick his tongue at him and tack Text me? And his number on the end. His phone – a modded to shit thing that has a lot of duct tape holding it together until he can fabricate a case – is in his pocket, and a few moments later it chirrups.
From: Unknown 09:43
I don’t think anyone would describe me as cute – Steve xxxxx
Tony saves him as ‘Beloved Steve’ before he can second guess himself, and then replies.
To: Beloved Steve 09:44
I bet I would – Tony xxxxxxxxxx
From: Beloved Steve 09:44
Would you? Xx
Attached to it is a picture, and Tony takes a moment to load it up – there’s two people in the photo, and Steve hasn’t mentioned which one he is. One of them is a tall brunet, with his hair pulled back into a pony tail and a lot of muscles under a basketball kit. He’s got a sharp angular face and stormy grey eyes – he’s undeniably gorgeous, but he’s not Tony’s type.
Now the other guy in the picture is scrawny, and has bandages over his knuckles like he’d punched something too hard. He’s got no muscles to speak of and the clothes that hang off him are covered in paint splatters. He’s got long fingers, and again his face is angular – he’s borderline unhealthily gaunt, but there’s defiance on his face even as he grins at the other guy, and his eyes are so blue. His hair flops in front of his face, and Tony can already picture those fingers pushing those golden strands out of the way. He likes what he can dream, very much.
To: Beloved Steve 09:47
Tell me that you’re the blond?!! Xxxxxx
The reply doesn’t come back as quick as the previous one, and Tony chalks it up to Steve celebrating his birthday with his family. It probably has nothing to do with Tony’s message – god, what if Steve’s the basketball hunk and sent that picture to make himself look good?? He shakes his head a little (he’s not really paying attention to the discussion at the breakfast table, but then he doesn’t think any of them expect him to, not today) and dispels the idea. He’d never be soulmated to someone like that. No, Steve’s the blond. He has to be.
From: Beloved Steve 09:55
You’re kidding, right? Xxxxx
To: Beloved Steve 09:56
Fuck no. Brunet’s cute and all, but blondie’s gorgeous. Maybe needs to eat a few decent meals, but god… I could lose myself in those baby blues xxxxx
Tony’s fingers stumble over themselves to get the reply typed. He can feel the back of his neck heat up as he types the words, but the blush will never reach his face, thank god. The words feel like too much, but they’re the truth, and he knows if the roles were reversed he’d appreciate it.
From: Beloved Steve 10:02
… you mean that? Xxxxx
To: Beloved Steve 10:03
I really do. Unless I got it wrong then brunet’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Xxxxxx
To: Beloved Steve 10:03
But seriously, I adore blond’s and muscles are overrated. Give me some brains and a decent sense of humour any day. <3
He curses under his breath for making the joke – way to play into any insecurity Steve might have there – but he’s trying. It’s only day one, they’ve got plenty of time.
From: Beloved Steve 10:17
You have no idea what that means to me. Xxxxx
To: Beloved Steve 10:17
I think I have a small one… but hey, you get to tell me one day. ^u^ xxxxx
From: Beloved Steve 10:19
Yeah. Yeah I do. :D xxxxx
Tony grins down at his phone. They’ll do just fine.
To: Tony Soulmate!! 19:37
You know, when I was younger, I used to pretend the fireworks were for me. Xxxxxx
Steve sends off the message without much thought. Tomorrow he’s going to have to find a way to increase the number of texts he gets a month – when it was just Bucky and Natasha bothering him, 500 a month was fine, but if this rate of conversation keeps up (and Steve hopes so much that it does) he and Tony will go through all his texts by tomorrow evening. Steve’s not complaining.
From: Tony Soulmate!! 19:38
That’s actually pretty funny. And cute. But mostly funny. Xxxxx
To: Tony Soulmate!! 19:39
I was six! How would I know they weren’t celebrating my birthday? Xxxxx
Steve can tell that Tony’s going to laugh at that, and he’s grinning at his phone. He’s been grinning at it all day, and seeing his mother smile every time he does. It’s a relief to both of them, and Steve hadn’t been thinking about it for the last two years but the metaphorical weight off his shoulders is palpable. He’s got a soulmate. He can’t get over that.
From: Tony Soulmate!! 19:39
I would’ve been, if I’d known. And now I do. Xxxxx
Steve could feel his cheeks heat up – Tony has been so completely sincere all day, around the jokes and the teasing. The honesty was refreshing – people just weren’t that honest in everyday life – and it made Tony seem that much more real somehow. So far, he was everything Steve would have dreamed of if he'd let himself.
To: Tony Soulmate!! 19:40
And now you do <3 xxxxx
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The Avengers Book Club (As Founded by Bruce and Natasha)
An ace!Bruce, ace!Nat, Avengers Family, BruceNat fluff fest. There is book reading, tea drinking, and Steve and Tony play a lot of chess. There will be more of this. This is for the lovely @ishipallthings who reminded me how much I love BruceNat, and I’m also gonna tag @xtaticpearl because you’ve been on fire with prompts lately and deserve a mention an a little something in return.
This is also on Ao3, here.
The first time it happens, it’s raining.
Bruce can’t hear it inside the tower, but he can see it through the windows at the end of the long room Tony transformed into a library. Tony thinks Bruce doesn’t know no such room existed before both Bruce and Steve expressed a love of reading, and Natasha had had that glint in her eye, but he knows. Pepper told him. It’s full of shelves of books Bruce strongly suspects all belonged to Tony’s parents – not in the least because a couple of the textbooks are scrawled all over, and more of the cookbooks and the more coding based maths books have Italian corrections added to them. Tony’s filled it with comfortable armchairs and throws and cushions. The fire is fake, but the room is always warm and glowing. It’s Bruce’s solace in a tower full of activity and life, and sometimes…
Right on cue, the door slides open with an almost silent whoosh of air, and feet pad in. The noise is intentional – socked feet on wooden floor, belonging to an assassin who could’ve charged at him with boots on and not made a noise. Natasha’s in a long grey hoody – she stole it from Tony – and purple sleep pants that Bruce recognises as his own. The socks, large fluffy and pale blue, knobbly as hell, are her own (Thor knitted them for her, under Clint’s instruction. Bruce has a scarf that Clint knitted for him, and he loves it very much. Tony pretends to hate the bobble hat he has, but he wears it all winter).
(Mobile Readers, ‘ware the read more!)
She doesn’t greet him, and he lowers his book to watch her as she walks past his chair – her fingers brush casually over his shoulder, and he feels it like a brand on his skin – and heads towards a shelf. She doesn’t take the books out of the library, and sometimes she’ll bring a notebook with her, to make notes of passages she enjoys. She loves Tony, and respects him as much as she would respect Fury, or Coulson, perhaps even Clint (though that respect isn’t blatant). Tony might not see it yet, but she does, and she will know where the books came from; she’ll treasure ever little bit of trust placed in her.
She selects a large dusty volume with faded Italian on the spine. She smiles when she catches Bruce’s gaze as she turns, and Bruce finds himself smiling back. The Black Widow doesn’t do casual affection, but Natasha Romanoff and the parts of her that she’s rebuilt from the chipped off bits of other people revels in it. He fully expects her to pad over to his chair, but instead of stealing a cushion and folding herself to the floor to lean against his legs like she usually does, she hesitates.
That alone amazes Bruce – Natasha, for all her broken parts (and don’t they all have them?) is never anything but confident, her moves calculated for the best possible outcomes – to see her nervous makes the breath catch a little in Bruce’s throat. He wants to preserve this moment, staring up at her with a tiny smile and receiving a smile in those pale green eyes of hers. He almost expects her to bite her lip, but instead she remains silent, and gestures towards him. For a moment he thinks she means his book, but then he realises that it’s not his book at all – it’s where it rests.
He doesn’t think it all the way through before he moves his book aside so she can sit. The armchair is large enough that they’re not cramped together, and she folds herself into his lap like- like- like she belongs there. She’s half curled against his chest, her legs arched over his. She can rest her own book against her legs, and Bruce can rest his against her knees. Turning the pages is a little difficult, but Bruce doesn’t want to move the arm that’s almost cradling Natasha’s shoulders. She smiles as she read, and Bruce finds himself watching her mouth the Italian soundlessly more than he reads.
If Natasha notices (and she will have, Bruce knows) she’s kind enough not to mention it.
It doesn’t happen again for a few weeks. The next time Natasha joins him in the library she returns to leaning against his legs, and Bruce misses the weight of her curled against him. Her presence alone though is always a comfort – the other guy has a soft spot for her, for all the Avengers, but mostly for her – and he quiets when she’s around, like he too is quite happy just to bask.
When it does happen again, Bruce isn’t alone in the library. The battle was long and hard and trying for all of them. Steve’s curled up in a window seat, sketching away, occasionally staring out across the skyline without seeing it. Clint’s high-up on the shelves, moving between them softly – Bruce thinks he’s reciting poetry to himself, but he only catches snippets as the archer comes closer. He’ll settle down to knit eventually, but he’s still got all that adrenaline to work off.
Tony, however, has crashed. He’s on the lounger opposite Bruce’s armchair, muttering to himself but otherwise not doing a whole lot with an arm thrown over his face. Bruce is buried in his armchair, wrapped in a blanket, book forgotten in his lap as he tries not to give in to the pounding in his head.
Natasha’s silent when she comes in, or quiet enough that she’s lost under the breathing and muttering, and the occasional scritch-scratch of Steve’s pencil. She murmurs something softly to Clint which brings her to Bruce’s attention, just beyond his peripheral vision. He almost turns to stare at her, eager to drink her in and see that she’s okay; that her hair is still vibrant and her eyes are alight, but instead he waits. She wanders over to Tony, and before Bruce can fully treasure the sight of her bundled into a fluffy grey blanket, she sweeps it off her shoulders and over the genius, pausing to tuck it around him and drop a swift kiss to the genius’s head. Tony’s mouth quirks, and stretches into a full, genuine smile at whatever she mutters, and then she’s standing up and turning away.
Bruce knows what she will ask before she reaches him, and with his book closed and placed beside the chair, he unfolds the blanket enough that he can open his arms to her. Surprise is brief across her face, and her smile is blinding though it is small. She’s tense as she curls up against him, her feet tucked up on his thigh instead of under the other arm of the chair, and she nestles her head in the hollow of his throat instead of on his shoulder. He wraps the blanket around them both, and when she seems to relax as he reaches around her to do so, he remains. They’re cuddling, Bruce realises, and he can’t help but grin into her hair, even brush a featherlight kiss there in a sudden surge of bravery.
“Thank you…” she whispers.
“My pleasure.” He tells her honestly, and feels how she smiles against his chest.
Bruce is discussing Jane Austen with Pepper when she asks, in a lull of the conversation; “is Tony okay?”
Bruce almost blurts why wouldn’t he be? but taking a moment to sip his tea – he’d made them a teapot, with china Tony bought him after teasing him about his other set, and they’re both curled into chairs in the library – he observes her. “You broke up.” He realises, and it isn’t a question. Pepper doesn’t ask him if Tony hadn’t told them, it’s clear she realises that by her pained expression.
“He deserves more than I know how to give him.” She tells him, and Bruce understands that. He tells her so.
“Maybe not quite in the same way,” he concedes – it’s been no secret among the Avengers that while Pepper likes them all as people very much, she’s not fond of what they do for a living – “but I know a little of it.”
“Oh?” Pepper asks, a chance to explain but no pressure behind it, and Bruce takes a moment to feel happy that he doesn’t hesitate to tell her.
“Asexual,” is all he has to say and she’s nodding in understanding. There’s a silence between them, a little tension, and Bruce tries to decide how to answer her question – wonders, in fact, if there’s a way to answer it that won’t hurt Pepper.
“Steve’s keeping him distracted.” He settles on. She sips her tea, but after hours of watching Natasha’s shielded countenance he catches the little bit of hurt there. “He probably doesn’t know what from, yet, just that Tony’s been a little distant. He’ll be just fine, and so will you.” Pepper smiles over the brim of her cup.
“Thank you.” She tells him. “They’d be good for each other,” she murmurs, and then a sly smirk is sliding onto her face that would make lesser men quake. On the contrary it makes Tony nervous, and there’s not an Avenger besides Natasha that wouldn’t be a mite afraid of what that smirk meant. “Like you and a certain superspy.” She’s teasing – comfortable enough to do so, and oh, Bruce does love this little family they’ve all built for each other.
Oh.
Oh.
Bruce feels his cheeks a little, but makes no effort to hide it.
“Clint’s not my type.” He tells her instead, and she laughs. Pepper Potts doesn’t get to laugh enough, but maybe she will now. He ducks his head, and sips his tea. “She’s… glorious.” He tells Pepper, and Pepper’s face lights up in a smile.
“You’d be good together.” She replies, soft and nudging, but mostly just warm – like the thought of her friends happy makes her happy too. Bruce realises then-
“Why didn’t you ask her about Tony?” Pepper’s smile dims, and Bruce immediately feels wretched – months ago, the sudden flare of guilt, of anger at himself would’ve resulted in code green, but now he thinks his eyes don’t even flash. There’s no fear in Pepper’s face, only a sadness that Bruce knows he didn’t put there, but feels responsible for.
“She’s mad at me. For hurting Tony.”
“Huh.” Bruce replies, a little shocked – perhaps even a little jealous. Natasha cares for Tony perhaps even more than Bruce realised.
“He’s like a brother to me.”
It’s another rainy day in the Avengers library. Steve and Tony are playing chess with the board nestled between them on the window seat. They’re bickering over the merits of different strategies – and possibly cheating – but their faux anger is entirely off-set by the fact that they’re holding hands beside the board and playing one-handed. Bruce has been watching them for a few minutes, jealous of their little bubble and wondering what Natasha – curled up by his feet – thinks. He glances down, and while she’d not looked away from her book to speak, she now leans her head back against the chair. He brushes her hair out of her eyes with a featherlight touch and she smiles.
“Brother?” he asks. He keeps his voice low, but Steve and Tony are so wrapped up in each other they wouldn’t notice even if they were blatantly gossiping about them, aiming for a reaction. She nods, lips pursed.
“I always wanted one, as a little girl. An older one.” She closes her eyes and smiles. “Someone who would defend me, and wipe my tears away. Tuck me in. It was silly then, and perhaps it’s silly now.” Her eyes flick open, and Bruce can see the amusement dancing in them – so rare it is that she will mention her childhood, and even rarer still that she’ll smile when she does. “But he is what I’ve got.”
Bruce thinks, then, of the press conference after their last battle, when Tony had eviscerated a reporter with nothing more than a scrutinising look and several well-placed sentences; all because the man had dared to question Natasha’s place on the Avengers. Bruce had watched it later, having been asleep when the conference itself happened, and he’d been furious, and then stress baked (blueberry muffins, that found their way down to the lab as a thank you). Natasha had been even quieter than normal. “He’s a good man.” Bruce tells her when he remembers he still hadn’t replied.
“He is.” She reaches up then, and cups Bruce’s cheek. “But he’s not you, Bruce.”
“I will merely aspire to his level of flamboyance.” Bruce agrees, and Natasha’s quiet laugh is everything. It’s not a giggle like Pepper’s is, nor is it Tony’s shocked breathless thing, or Steve’s full-body laugh when you truly amuse him. It’s soft and musical and might be one of the most beautiful things Bruce has ever heard. He reaches up to rest his hand over Natasha’s on his face and lean into it. They remain a moment, and Bruce presses a ghosting kiss to her fingers as she draws her hand away. She tugs his down to return the favour, and then returns to her book.
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I need a Halloween fic
In which while Steve's in the ice, he's effectively a ghost. He's alone for a very long time, aimlessly wandering a world he recognises a little less with each passing day, passing week, passing month - the city of New York ages around him, without him, and he can only watch Peggy for so long. There's other ghosts, too - but they're not always around, and rarely will they talk to him. He likes kicking about with some of the younger ghosts, but then he thinks too hard and realises that these kid ghosts never made it to double figures.
He goes back to Brooklyn, just once. He doesn't find his mother - maybe she moved on? He doesn't find Bucky - and Steve hates that he left so quick. He wonders why he's still here.
And then Howard has a son.
Steve does his best to Cause things. He's never done it much before, and he's been a wanderer (it's better than ghost) for the better part of thirty years now - but for this little boy? He causes a cool breeze in the summer when the nurse maid can't understand he's too warm, and catches him when he stumbles because no one else is watching. Little Tony... he sees him grow, and nutures as well as a wanderer could. He opens doors and closes windows - he latches the doors too, when Steve knows that Howard must not find him. One year Tony begs and begs to go trick-or-treating, but not even Edwin Jarvis can sway Howard and Steve- Steve finds a way to get some candy, even just a little, to the boy. He wakes up to find it beside his bed - he grins, and thanks the Halloween spirits. Steve wouldn't correct him even if he could, Lord knows the kid could use some childish beliefs.
And so it goes. He's less concerned with being noticed, even as Tony gets older, grows up too fast, catching Steve up and then surpassing him in a way even the city never had. The years go on and it's chalked up as one of the genius's many eccentricities that whenever something happens - someone trips when they're trying to touch him, a door opens without a touch or he stumbles but does not fall - he quietly whispers "thank you kind ghost". It's the only part of him that still seems naive - and hilariously, he's still always right.
The worst moment of Steve's afterlife is Afghanistan. He cannot Cause anything in this panicked state, has to watch and hope and hope that Tony will make it. Hate how he missed whatever lead to this, hate that there is nothing he can do- it's after the second set of waterboarding that Tony looks up at him and sees him, before he's passing out.
Yinsen can't see him of course, but something must've died in Tony, if only for a moment, because now, every few moments, he eyes flick back to the wall of the cave where Steve has leant to watch him work.
Tony doesn't attempt to talk to him, but after all these years Steve is incapable of being insulted. It's not until Tony is at home in Malibu, has sent Pepper and Rhodey away and his hand rests on Dum-E's head, that he says "So you're my kind ghost?" and then mutter. "Steven fucking Rogers..." and Steve can't stop himself from quoting "There should be a Captain in there somewhere".
Tony laughs, and it goes from there.
Fury might've hazarded that Stark's first reaction to Captain America might've been to kiss him, but no one expected Captain America's first reaction to be to kiss the bastard right back.
---
Anyone wanna write that with me? @xtaticpearl @kiernaserea @captainstarkreportingforduty anybody??? 😁😁😁
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Spiderboy
This is a gift for @itsallavengers because they’re wonderful and I love them and their work. You should read everything they’ve written, I’m not even kidding. :D
Also, consider this a verse to request things for!! I am never done with cannon-esque trans!Peter. Never ever.
Tony Stark was sat in his living room again.
The last time this had happened, he’d been dragged to Berlin, fought a man the size of the Chrysler building and stolen Captain America’s shield. He was a little more than nervous – especially since Aunt May had found out about that little escapade, along with all the rest. She hadn’t been pleased about the true nature of the Stark Internship, nor about the whole incident with the Decathlon… but she’d been proud. Of how he chose to use what he could do, and of his decisions afterwards. She’d ranted angrily about reckless endangerment, and threatened to storm up state to the Avengers facility and demand of Tony Fucking Stark just what he thought he was doing with her kid- but none of that anger (and it had lasted for days) was on her face right now. In fact, she looked rather emotional… good emotional.
Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her look like that, not even when she’d been so proud of his trust in her that he felt safe in coming out.
“Ah! There’s the guy!” Mr Stark called out, grinning – look none too composed himself – and Peter left his bag by the door, cautiously coming further into the apartment.
“Mr Stark?” Peter asked quietly, sitting when May glared at him to do so. “What’s going on?”
Mr Stark shrugged, the action oddly-nonchalant against May’s grin. “An updated suit -not the new one- with May’s permission,” was all he said, and Peter was immediately curious as to how on earth he could improve upon what was already a masterpiece when Mr Stark continued; “so you don’t need to wear a binder underneath.” Peter froze, instantly feeling kind of sick – the kind of sick that made him want to curl up under the covers where no one could see him, no one could call him Penniless Penny or Penelope in any form, where dresses weren’t still expected of him and make-up stains didn’t still linger on his dresser.
“You- how?” Peter asked weakly, not bolting only because May was smiling softly – he wondered what Tony could possibly have said to abate her considerable protectiveness.
“Karen, as you call her. She still transmits all the readings from your suit back to Friday.” Mr Stark smiled softly. “You could do some serious damage to your body wearing a binder while you’re being Spiderboy-“
“-Spiderman-“ Peter protested weakly, knowing what Mr Stark said was the truth but quite unable to believe it was Mr Stark saying it.
“- and then who will I be financing top surgery for?” He continued, and Peter felt his mouth drop open.
“I- Mr Stark- You don’t have to-“ Peter began to protest, but Mr Stark simply held up a to stop him.
“No, I don’t.” He said, and the words almost seemed cold, perhaps a challenge, but Mr Stark shook his head. “Look, son,” Peter brightened stupidly at the term, though it went seemingly unnoticed, “I have been up for too long, wanting to get this suit here, and reading everything a- uh- guardian, of a trans guy should know. You already said, just once, that you and May make it by. Let me do this. Surgeries, hormones… you shouldn’t have to worry about being able to pay to be who you are. Call it your wage for being a superhero, if you want.” Mr Stark shrugged, watching Peter expectantly with warm, serious brown eyes. For lack of an ability to English around the lump in his throat, he nodded.
“Good! I’ll be in touch.” He clapped his hands together, grinned at him both, and by the time Peter was able to speak, he was gone. May sat back down from seeing him to the door smiling through tearful eyes.
“Oh Peter, isn’t that brilliant?” she asked, and Peter could only swallow, nod again.
No more binders. What a thought that was. Free breathing, flat-chested… he could stand in the mirror and see himself. Peter looked up at May, knowing he was grinning, and happily accepting a tighter hug.
The New York Times had a picture of Mr Stark on the cover, middle finger shoved in the face of some guy, and Facebook blew it up – because the man had given an eleven-minute lecture to a transphobic man in a coffee shop. Mr Stark must’ve been incognito, had handed his card to the girl behind the counter with an offer of a chance to be herself, before kindly excusing himself and punching the guy in the face.
Peter totally didn’t cry.
May totally didn’t frame the article proudly, with a “look how you inspired Tony Stark”.
(Peter totally looked at that headline, STARK SUPPORTS TRANS RIGHTS, every time he got home from a hard day.)
“Yo! Penny!”
Peter winced, Flash’s voice cutting easily through the crowd, but he didn’t turn. Penelope was someone else, a role he’d played for 13 and a half years but never been, not really. He carried on walking, but Flash was still calling after him. It’d be ringing in his ears all day, Penny, Penny, Penny… he should’ve worn the binder – but his ribs were still sore from the whole stopping-Mr-Stark’s-stuff-being-stolen thing, and he was only a B-cup! Baggy jumpers (thank you for the loan Ned) hid it well- but it was like Flash saw, like he always saw and- Peter hadn’t looked up in time, and he crashed straight into the door.
He ignored Ned calling out to ask if he was okay, ignored the laughter of kids he didn’t know and barely recognised, Flash’s laughter sounding loudest of all, and began to walk off into Queens, just wanting to get away. He missed people gaping at the car pulling up, gasps and shouts and phones being pulled out as the driver got out – he noticed, however, Mr Stark calling out “Hey, Mr Parker, just the guy I’m looking for!”
Peter turned, hastily wiping his eyes, hunching despite the instinct to stand up straight like he was being inspected, hoping that Mr Stark wouldn’t see he’d been about to cry, that he wouldn’t see why. “Mr Stark?”
“Internship duty calls, Peter.” He flashed that grin, waving to some of the teens with phones, and Peter thought for a moment – waking to wake up from this mostly terrible and suddenly crazy day – before getting into the front of the car with him.
“Don’t worry about the pictures,” Mr Stark muttered as he got in and Peter did his seatbelt up, “small signal will short them out and delete them when we set off.” He wasn’t looking at Peter as he said it, concentrating on setting off – concentrating too hard – and Peter was surprisingly grateful. Keeping a mostly normal life only worked if he stayed out from under the eye of the media.
They drove out of Queens, Tony fiddling with the radio one handed and humming along to the AC/DC he found playing. Peter stayed quiet, but as they continued out of the city, his mounting curiosity got the better of him. “So, what’s the emergency Mr Stark?” he asked. Tony blinked hard, partially like he’d forgotten Peter was there, but not quite. He grinned brightly, laughing.
“Oh, I just wanted ice cream, and the board meeting was really boring, so I figured my favourite spiderguy might want to eat his weight in it with me.” Mr Stark was still grinning when he turned back to the road, though there was a slight stiffness to his shoulders, and Peter had to take a moment to replay that sentence in his head.
“…we’re going for ice cream?” he asked, confused.
“You like ice cream?”
“I- of course I do!” He protested.
“Then we’re going for ice cream.” Mr Stark said firmly, shoulders dropping a little – if Peter didn’t know he was Tony Stark, Avenger and Genius, Peter would’ve said he was nervous. “And seriously, son, call me Tony. Mr Stark makes me feel ancient.”
“Like Captain America?” Peter joked weakly, pleasantly surprised when Mr Stark- Tony, laughed. He looked like he might comment, but he got distracted swearing up a storm at the guy who nicked their parking spot. Tony finds one a few more blocks away, swapping his suit jacket for a zip up hoody and a baseball cap, sunglasses perched on his nose still. Peter’s still grinning from the laughter and the swearing, feeling better than he has all day, when Tony shoves an arm round his shoulders to guide him through the busyish streets to the ice cream parlour.
He orders them both something large and ridiculous with too many toppings, and they sit in a private booth near the back – no one has recognised Tony, save from the girl behind the counter who’d asked if he’d wanted his usual, and they’re not going to be disturbed. Tony’s half way through his first scoop – something alarmingly orange – and Peter has started his second – bugglegum, the first a bright red cherry – when Tony speaks again.
“You’re allowed to cry, you know.” He says, and Peter nearly chokes on the sprinkles atop that last spoonful. “Maybe not here,” he elaborates, “but I’m never going to think you any less of a dude for it. I cry when I’m having bad days, so if I can cry and still be a guy at the end of it, you definitely can.” Peter has to take a sip of his water to recover, but he can see that Tony is being utterly genuine, if really uncomfortable about it.
“Thank you.” Peter replied, hoping Tony can see how much he means it.
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Sooooo if I was going to write a fic of Tony "knighting" Peter, do we want it to be the scene from IW or an AU of Some Kind (suggestions welcome)???
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Chapters: 3/?
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Avengers Academy (Video Game)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Bruce Banner/James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov/Janet Van Dyne, Howard Stark/Maria Stark, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark & Janet Van Dyne, past Bruce Banner/Betty Ross, past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark - Relationship, Past Sam Wilson/Riley - Relationship, Jane Foster/Thor
Characters: Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Janet Van Dyne, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Maria Stark, Howard Stark, Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel)
Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, they're all broken, But They're Fixing Each Other, everyone loves Harry Potter, BAMF Maria Stark, Howard Stark Is a Good Dad, The Best Found Family Fic I Know How To Write, Jan's a Lesbian, Bruce is Bi, Natasha is Pan, Tony is Gay, FTM Bruce Banner, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, (Bruce's Dad Sucks), Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Deaf Clint Barton, A Group Of Them Were Soliders, Happy Ending, Mostly Very Fluffy, Just Backstory Angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Kinda?
Summary:
When Tony asks his extended group of friends and family to test out his latest shot at fantastical technology, not one of them expected them to have quite the impact that it did. Sure, the StarkPhones are amazing – really Tony, you’ve outdone yourself – but they all got something a little more than that when Tony handed out the customised bricks with their StarkNet profiles.
Welcome to the Stark’s High Society Orphans Club, harry potter nerdery and a basic IQ required, pretty decent parents, food, and board included.
Authors Note; My latest forray into fic... it may have got out of hand. I’ll try and update semi-regularly. Love y’all.
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(You’re Like) The Son I Never Had
So this idea has been floating around my head for a couple of days, so I’ve just sat down and written.... I apologise for the angsty-ness lower down but I promise a happy ending!! Also, @itsallavengers, consider this revenge/thanks for all the wonderful Tony and Peter you’ve graced us with. This is not the trans!Peter you were promised, but that is on it’s way.
This can be found on Ao3 here
The first time Tony holds his son, it is with no small amount of panic. Happy had found the child left in the lobby of the tower, a birth certificate, apology and a DNA test left tucked into the basket with him. He has a small amount of fluffy brown hair, and he’s still sleeping soundly even as Pepper makes him pick the child up. The weight of this small baby in his arms makes him want to scream – this was never the plan, Tony can’t be trusted with himself, why would he be trusted with a child – but the child snuffles and curls into him, and the metaphorical ice fortress around his heart melts a little. The child blinks awake with dark dark eyes, and doesn’t cry.
Maybe Tony can do this.
(Beware the read more mobile users!)
“Come on Petey-pie, if we don’t get your hair washed then there’s no story!” Tony chides gently, and the two-and-a-half-year-old standing in the bath tub looked comically horror striken.
“Stowy?” he asks, lower lip beginning its signature tremble, and it needs to stop right now, or Tony is going to fold like a bad hand of poker.
“Hair wash.” Tony replies, holding up the no-tears bottle of shampoo. Peter eyes it with the wariness only a toddler can muster, but plonks his ass down in the few inches of water and grumpily allows Tony to wash his hair. Once he’s done though, all is forgiven, and Peter is hiding beneath a towel, giggling and giggling as Tony tickles him and peppers the bits of him he can reach with kisses.
“Dada, no!” The kid giggles, but Tony doesn’t relent until Peter eyes are starting to droop. He cradles the child on his hip, and wonders how there was ever a split thought of giving this up. The boy sleepily allows Tony to help him into some pjs, and is sleeping when Tony sets him down. There’ll be no bedtime story tonight, but Tony still sits on the edge of the bed a while, treasuring the moment. Peter will be growing up in no time.
Peter’s first day of pre-school is tense.
The boy had woken Tony up ridiculously early, excited and bouncy and far too eager. He insists upon one of his special shirts – you wear a suit when you go to school daddy – and Tony is too in love with his little boy to argue. Peter’s rucksack is unpacked and repacked to make sure he has his best pencils and in the pencil case that Auntie Nat brought by, and he has his juicebox for break time. He looks so cute, and Tony has Jarvis takes lots and lots of pictures.
Peter is thrumming with energy as he holds Tony’s hand into the school yard, and then is off the moment a kid in the class invites him to play. He comes back, to drag Tony down for goodbye kisses, and Tony is promised by a young pretty teacher that his son is in good hands.
He cries the moment he’s alone in the car.
Peter loves school – he’s smart, just like Tony was, but Tony isn’t just like Howard was (thank fuck) and so Peter can do what he likes with those smarts. He reads and he draws and asks Tony to teach him more maths. Tony does, and they spend weekends at the museum with Rhodey on his leave and Bruce when Rhodey’s gone, and Peter is quick and eager to learn.
He’s not afraid to be wrong, and he’s not afraid to be silly and Tony starts to believe he’s doing a good job. When Peter comes home and says he wants to build a robot for the future, Tony is immeasurably proud – but all the time Peter stands at his side at the lowered worktop bench, Tony is thinking away… The robot is only a kit, because Tony won’t allow Peter to be hurt the way he was, not yet not ever, but as he twists the bolts with confidence and follows the instructions with ease… bots for the future. Perhaps it’s time to change Tony’s legacy, to medicine and clean energy and all those things Tony’s considered before but been told it wasn’t his job. He can make it his job.
After all, what kid wants to inherit a weapons company?
**
The pain in Tony’s chest is a burning, consuming thing. Each breath brings it to new heights, and as his breathing quickens and the panic begins, Tony wonders if it might be kinder to have died.
It’s Obadiah’s betrayal that hurts the most, the unknown facts of who might stand with him that hurt next… if his company is against him, then what has he got left? There’s Rhodey, but Tony knows he’s paid for it now, and there’s Pepper but it’s not like she isn’t paid too… Yinsen might’ve saved his body, but Tony’s fairly certain he’s beyond saving his soul. A weapons company that sells to both sides is no good karma, and Tony’s own ignorance is a blight he’ll never absolve himself off.
They waterboard him to the point where the battery in his chest delivers him electric shocks, but still he just won’t die. If he gets out of this alive, it must be for a reason – and Tony is going to find it if it kills him.
**
Peter finishing elementary happens at the normal age. Tony had driven Pepper crazy wondering if he should have let Peter skip grades, and Pepper had slapped Tony upside the head. When Peter starts to get bored in lessons, Tony gives him things to do at home, and keep Peter where he is – he benefits, undoubtedly, from company and friends his own age. He comes home each day and does his homework beside Tony in the workshop, and then they work on a project together before tea. Tony cooks most nights, and once in a while Pepper will join them – Pepper never wanted, never wants children, but she makes an exception in Peter.
High school is an entirely different battle, because earnest Peter Parker Stark is genuinely just trying to be helpful when he corrects his teachers. Ned will stand up for him when they share classes, but often Peter finds himself in detention. Thankfully he learns – via Tony saying, teachers are idiots, Peter, but they mean well… here, correct that would you? and Peter laughing as he’s passed a recently published paper because this is child’s play dad, c’mon – and he studies hard. He joins band, and he’s on the decathlon team. He builds LEGO deathstars with Ned and laughs at Michelle’s dry wit – Tony likes that girl – and his grades are perfect in everything except gym (which Tony is never gonna judge the kid for, gym sucks).
Tony is just revolutionising clean energy when Peter enters the science fair, and Tony ditches two important meetings to make sure that he’s there to applaud and cheer and embarrass the fuck out of this kid that he loves – and that’s where he meets Steve.
Steve had been one of Peter’s teachers in elementary – Tony isn’t sure of which grade – but now, Tony takes some notice. He’s come to see Peter, because he’d always believed the kid was smart and he was over-joyed to see it recognised. Peter comes down to see them both, first prize pinned neatly to his chest, just as they’re introducing themselves.
“Mr Rogers!” Peter exclaims, shocked to see him. “You came!” Steve grins and holds his fist out for a fist bump which Peter dazedly accepts.
“You told me to look out for you becoming a real scientist – and when I heard you were competing I knew I couldn’t miss it.” Steve told him, honest and happily, and he’s proud, proud of Tony’s son, and instead of feeling jealous or oddly protective, Tony thinks he might be in love.
Their first date goes swimmingly, the conversation flowing from Peter to art to teaching to Stark Industries new changes; Steve doesn’t judge his past and Tony shuts his mouth about not liking art really at all. They share a dessert and Steve shyly takes his hand just outside the restaurant after they’ve playfully fought over the check – Steve didn’t care that Tony is a billionaire, just told him he could get the next one but Steve was paying for this one and he could suck it – and walks him all the way back to Stark Tower.
Tony sends flowers to his work the next day, and gets a hilarious series of texts about the kid’s reactions to them. Four dates more, and Tony tells Peter and Peter grins and tells him it’s about time. Time passes and Steve migrates into their lives and their home and their hearts over the years. He cooks better than Tony and draws better than them both. He’s no mathematician but he’s good at sports in a way that even Peter can get better, and if Steve hadn’t been there Peter would’ve lost marks on that history test. Because of Steve and his crazy adoptive Dad’s, Peter takes French instead of Spanish and talks and talks and talks all the way up to calling Steve Da-
**
Tony looks through the portal as he approaches it, and wishes for more time.
More time to build a life with Pepper, to be a better friend to Rhodey – but also to get to know the team who stand below him. The stars will welcome him, and the cold will return, and Tony will have known Steve Rogers, Captain America, for all of a matter of hours. It hardly seems fair, but Tony has lived on borrowed time since his twenties, and definitely since Afghanistan.
Time, he wishes for because SI has so much to do, and still needs an heir chosen if Tony’s going to carry on risking his life and he can’t get through to Pepper and Jarvis is gone from the HUD and he’s falling and falling and hoping it works. He’ll probably never know and it’s all too late and- fuck, the Hulk roars loudly.
Still got time.
Still looking for that reason.
**
Tony and Steve get married the year Peter turns fifteen. It’s a spring wedding, with only their close friends, and a few of Peter’s – Pepper cries and Natasha pretends not to, but James Barnes makes no effort to pretend he’s not sobbing into his girlfriend’s shoulder. Clint brings his family, and Phil Coulson plays a star-stuck aide to Tony’s Aunty Peggy. Peter loves his suit and hates his tie because he can’t actually tie it.
Tony and Steve cry through their vows, kiss their way through the meal and laugh through the evening (and the sex) and apologise to Peter in the form of a dog. Peter loves the dog, and actually kisses both their cheeks for the first time in years he’s so excited. He walks her every day and cares for the retriever – he calls her Karen, weird fucking kid – with all his attention.
Peter goes to Homecoming with the girl he’s been crushing on for over a year – she’s a senior and her father does fantastic shipping work for Tony, a family man who cares deeply about his wife and his daughter and his work. She’s perfect for Peter, even if they’re young, and Peter has this giddy, punch-drunk smile when he gets home later that evening and Tony’s so proud of his boy, growing up to be an awkwardly charming, intelligent young man-
**
-whip-smart and fast to match it, and Steve’s shock is deafening in its silence as the kid lands on top of the vehicle, shield in hand. Tony knew the kid had been a long shot, but he’s impressed. Parker’s taken instantly to the new suit, and Tony’s almost looking forward to cultivating that potential but first he’s got to deal with the stubborn-ass in front of him.
Something tells him that he and Steve shouldn’t be fighting, that they could never hurt each other – but the same thing tells him that the shield Steve’s just slammed into his chest is one he can’t possibly own, so Tony doesn’t listen to it.
**
Peter spends his last two years of high-school applying for and acing university run courses because he’s just that smart, and Tony is impossibly proud. Bruce is also impossibly proud, and Peter’s already being offered internships that graduates would compete for. He’ll go far in whatever field of science he chooses, and sometimes Tony likes to remind Peter of that, and make the kid take a break for once.
Steve also goes back to school in those years, finally deciding to go back and get the master’s degree in Art History he’d always intended to get before his parents had fallen ill and he’d gone on to join the army. He enjoys it immensely – rediscovering a passion for art that makes Tony fall in love with him all over again. He loves his boys, his husband and son, more than words can ever express.
He buys them stupid gifts one random morning in April because he loves them and he needs them to know and actions is just how he shows it, even now.
**
Actions are all that count in a battle. Should’ve thoughts and could’ve thoughts mean little when people you know – that you fight with and live with and love – are under fire.
The Gauntlet rolls away as Thanos is blasted backwards by the combined force of the Guardians, Strange, Barnes and the Falcon, and Tony knows what he could do, should do – will do. He staggers up and away in the heavy armour, only partially online, and tells Friday to rescind his own left gauntlet, she protests but does so, and Tony Stark raises the infinity gauntlet as a fist to return to the fray.
The power of it is over-whelming, but Tony has his mission – to protect his family, at all costs. It takes him a moment to remain in his own mind, not to lose himself in the realms of possibility, but he manages it, and turns back to the battle in time to see Thanos advance again, this time heading straight towards Spiderman, sixteen-year-old Peter Parker with no job still being here and a whole life ahead of him, and Tony sees red.
He steps from the armour without thought, still wielding the gauntlet, and heads towards Thanos. “Back the fuck away from my son, you grape-faced fucker.” Tony snarls – he doesn’t know whether he intends to punch him or back hand him or simply point and wish, but suddenly there’s screaming. It’s loud and piercing and yikes, the person screaming must be in no small amount of agony and- oh. That’s him screaming, he realises, as he fights with the gauntlet to make it do what he needs, to make things right and not break the universe trying to give him what he wants-
**
Tony wakes in a cold sweat, breathing momentarily ragged but it slowly calms. He’s not sure where the fuck that sort of nightmare came from – he’s going to have to stop watching so much Sci-Fi, maybe – but the image of Nat hugging a young Peter tightly wars with the image of a colder, harder women with lighter hair and jaded eyes. That women stands back-to-back with someone battled hardened and metal armed that Tony’s brain thinks is Bucky – but Steve’s beloved brother had simply served his tours and come home to Natasha.
Tony rolls over, shaking the image from his head, and tucks his face into his husband’s neck to sleep.
**
Tony wakes in a cold sweat to yelling, breathing momentarily ragged but it slowly and refusing to calms. He’s not sure where what the fuck that sort of nightmare came from is going on, but there’s large, calloused hands shaking him roughly, smaller – younger? – hands clinging to one of his own. He wonders if he’s still screaming but he can catch snippets of words and tries to cling to them. Dear sweet husband Steve saying “we were meant to have time” and hadn’t they had it already? “No no, Stark! Stay with me!” he calls and that’s odd, that’s wrong, Steve’s only ever called him Stark when-
Pain rockets through him again and hands clutch at him tighter and he tries hard to breathe, hearing “we need you” and “I need you”, sobbed and whispered like confessions at the altar. “Tony please,” comes like a prayer and “you can’t leave Peter” is tantamount to begging, and Tony wants to give the voice what he asks for but he’s no longer sure who is talking and the universe is screaming that something is so incredibly wrong.
“Tony? Tony! Tony, Tony no-“ the voices calls, but so does the universe, and he closes his eyes and lets it have him.
The last time Tony wakes it is for good, with the bright white ceiling of the hospital above him.
His first instinct is to cry – he’s not sure what happened after he picked up the gauntlet, unable to let Peter be taken from him, but there’s a fake set of memories trying to settle beside the real ones and his heart mourns a life he never had. He sits up, and takes in the Avengers crammed into the room on shitty plastic chairs, and his breath catches in his throat. The first tears burn down his cheeks, sob torn from his chest without permission, and the second is choked off as he tries to stop, the third lost as a chair screeches across the hospital floor. Tony finds himself pulled against a hard chest, and he grips the shirt tightly, uncaring whose hands it is that hold him close.
“You’re okay, Tony, god, you’re alright, we’re all going to be alright.” Steve is whispering into his hair and Tony wants more than anything to believe it – someone else in the room seems to wake, and then there’s weight on the other side of him where he’s sat up in the bed, and thin, strong arms wrap around his waist from behind. “I thought we lost you.” Steve murmurs, kissing the top of his head as Peter cries into the back of his head.
People squeeze Tony’s shoulder as they wander past – walking sleepily and grinning to see Tony alive even if his heart is breaking – and soon it’s just Tony, Steve and Peter left in the hospital room. Tony wants to ask what happened, understand what it is that he did, but when Steve pulls away – newly shaved, in a simple shirt and sweatpants though his hair still hangs about his ears – he’s distracted by the love that he can see there. “I- Steve?”
“We all saw what you dreamt, Tony.” Steve tells him softly, one hand now cradling the back of Tony’s head, but the other is rubbing slowly – a comfort – up and down on Peter’s arm. “And I- probably should have mentioned, I-“ Steve swallows, and drops his gaze for a moment. He makes sure to look up to continue though, and let Tony see the truth in his eyes. “I’ve loved up since you flew that damn bomb into space. Though I guess I took a while to work it out.”
Tony blinks. Hard. Before he can respond though, Peter squeezes his waist again, and mumbles something into his shoulder. Tony, despite the ache in his shoulder, reaches back to try and pull the kid where he can see him. “Speak up, Petey.” He tells him, the nickname slipping off his tongue for the first time like he’s said it hundreds of times before, and Peter shifts to be hugging him side on with a tired, tear-filled smile.
“You called me your son.” Peter replies softly, and Tony knows that he’s thinking of Aunt May – Aunt May who he wonders if they’ve found while he’s be down for the count, if they’ve had the funeral… “I- I wouldn’t mind holding you to that.” He’s only half joking, and it comes out too weak, and Tony tugs the kid – still so unbearably young – down so he can kiss the top of his head. It feels natural, easy, even if it’s new.
“I think we can do that.” Tony says, hugging him tighter and looking up to meet to Steve’s smile. “We can do that.”
#tony stark#peter parker#stony#steve rogers x tony stark#tony as peters dad#thecitywritesshow#(<< that is the best tag I've ever come up with and I'm not even sorry)
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The Gauntlet’s Wake
This is a sequel to “(You’re Like) The Son I Never Had” which can be found on Ao3 here… This one follows on in the series here. I’m going to shamelessly tag @itsallavengers, @breyito and @justpotteringmymarvelousgarden, because they yelled at me about it!
Tony’s okayed to leave the hospital a lot sooner than he should’ve been, but his hand is all bandaged up from where the gauntlet had burnt him – not majorly, despite all the screaming, thank fuck – and his cuts are all stitched. Peter’s got his arm in a sling after his shoulder was dislocated, Barton’s on crutches, Barnes is yet again down an arm, Natasha’s hair is jarringly, jaggedly short and her fingers are all strapped up, and Bruce has bruises blossoming over his jaw and up both arms.
They’re alive though, and that’s what counts most. Tony finds himself counting everyone each time he walks into the common floor of the tower that remains intact enough to be used as a base. The first few days of the aftermath Tony had been flitting in and out of consciousness, apparently, with Steve and Peter constantly by his side, and in that time Pepper has set rebuilding efforts in motion. The Maria Stark Foundation is a major contributor, as always, along with Oscorp, and other companies have joined in this time – the government itself is funding almost half, and Tony can’t help but wonder if things might actually change for the better this time.
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Tony did his usual count of the people he knew should be on the common floor as he stepped out of the elevator, and his heart skipped a beat when he came up short. He counted again, and made a forceful effort to calm his breathing.
“Uh, where’s the kid?” He called out. Some of the conversation died away as people looked about, but Clint called out immediately.
“Rooftop.” Tony bristled – he and Clint had yet to hash it out, unlike most of the Avengers, but Tony had been putting it off since Clint has lost his family. He nodded a thanks, not trusting his tongue, and got a sloppy salute in return as he snagged a blanket off the back of the couch and headed back into the elevator.
It was nearing one in the morning – no one would be keeping a normal sleep schedule for a few weeks as things fell back into place. The rogue Avengers were in the process of being pardoned, and Shield’s least remaining members were setting up anew in some of the empty floors on the tower; it was bedlam, but so many people around was nice. Hell, most of them were pleased to see him – but there was only one-person Tony wanted to see now. Friday could only take him up two floors below the roof, so Tony walked up the stairs for the last two, stepping out onto the roof and wishing that he’d had on a thicker jacket as the wind whipped straight through him.
Peter wasn’t sat on the edge thank fuck – Tony had been a little worried – but instead was sat with his knees pulled up to his chest in the centre of the helipad, sling forgotten, staring out across New York’s dark skyline – the tower ran off arc technology, but the rest of New York’s various grids were still down. As a result, there was very little light pollution to see the stars in the sky (what scared Tony was that they weren’t the right stars but as long as it all stayed up there, he was content to ignore it).
Tony considered commenting on the view, but a drop in the wind and he could hear humming. The Beatles, All You Need Is Love, and Tony’s heart broke a little more. He sat down with a groan – he was too old to sit on the floor, truly – and threw the blanket over both their shoulders. Peter’s humming cut off as he tried to shrug the blanket off half-heartedly.
“I’m not cold.” He murmured, glancing sideways.
“Who said this was for you?” Tony joked, “I am, shove over and let me steal your heat.” It worked, and Peter let out a little huff and shuffled closer. Tony tossed the blanket back over his shoulders. They sat in silence for a while, sounds of cars and distant groups of people drifting up from the sleepy city. Tony wasn’t going to break the silence – neither of them needed to force talking right now, and Tony was quite content to sit a be a presence, if that was all that Peter needed.
“She knew I was Spiderman for all of three months.” Peter spoke softly, breaking the silence. “I- I know, me being Spiderman had nothing to do with, that… that Thanos would’ve come anyway. Hell, I’d be- be- too.” He paused, and didn’t resist when Tony put an arm around his shoulders. “We fought.” He swallowed hard. “She didn’t want me to come and fight, but how could I not, Tony? I can do what I can do and I had to do something with it.” Peter finally turned to look up at him. “I… I have to believe I made a difference.” Peter insisted quietly, tears finally brimming over. Tony squeezed his shoulders a little.
“You did, kid. You made all the difference in the world.” Tony promised him – and he had, so many people were alive today because of Peter.
“I- what am I gonna do now, Tony? She was- she was all I had. I- I can’t go b-back to Queens.” Peter’s voice broke then, and he startled Tony by crying in earnest. Tony tugged him closer for lack of something else to do – he hadn’t realised that Peter thought he was going to have to go back.
“Hey, hey, kid- Peter.” Tony coaxed him to look back up, and Peter sniffled – he looked so young, and Tony gave in to the random urge to reach out and brush the tears off the kids cheeks.
“I don’t wanna be on my own.” Peter whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Kid, you’re staying with me.” Tony told him, smiling when Peter’s eyes went wide as they shot open.
“Why- what? Why would you want me? Can you do that? Isn’t there paperwork? Tony you hate paperwork-“ Peter started to work himself up into panicked rambling, so Tony cut him off.
“Yes, there is paperwork, but I’m willing to suffer through it because-“ Tony raised his voice just a little to cut off Peter’s half-hearted protest, “-because that paperwork means, if you want, you can stay for as long as you like, and that’s it. Uncontested.” Peter frowned.
“You mean like adoption?” He asked, somewhere between confused and hopeful. Tony shrugged.
“I- well, you can call it adoption but it doesn’t have to mean you’re my son if not or if you want to stay out of the public eye – it’s more a formality, really-“ And now Tony was starting to ramble too – the pair of them were a mess.
“Yes.” Peter burst out, starting to smile. “Yes, I want to be your son.” And then he immediately looked horrified. “I mean, if you-“
“Sure, kid.” Tony smiled at him. “I mean… well. You saw what I saw.” He was trying to be nonchalant and if Peter’s smile was anything to go by, he was failing. “It didn’t seem that bad.” Tony couldn’t help but grin back as Peter’s smile got wider.
“That’s because you were married to Captain America.” Peter was teasing him, the little shit – they were definitely going to confuse a lot of people.
“Stranger things have happened.” Tony told him, looking up at the sky. There was a beat of silence as they both took in the alien view.
“If by strange you mean getting bitch slapped across four blocks by, and I quote, a ‘grape-faced fucker’ then sure, let’s go with that.” Peter mumbled, and Tony thought his laughter could be heard on the street.
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Breathe
My best friend, who is regrettably not on tumblr, is a big BuckyNat fan, and she liked this tiny thing enough that she suggested I post it! It’s not on Ao3, but if you want it to be, let me know!! I could be persuaded...
He’s not meant to be weak.
He’s the Winter Soldier, but more importantly he’s Bucky fucking Barnes. He remembers so much now – he remembers getting Stevie out of fights, remembers girls and remembers feeling responsible when he signed up for the war that got some version of him killed. He remembers dancing and smiling and being a social butterfly. He remembers being able to do this, but now it feels impossible.
(mobile readers beware the read more)
Stevie’s waltzing around the room with Pepper, all grace and well-paced steps like Bucky had once been, and Bucky’s playing wallflower. He wonders if Stevie ever felt as wretched as he does now, pinned against the wall with a lump in his throat that’s almost choking. Stark’s wooing the benefactors with his large false smile no-one notices, and Clint is telling a story (probably questionable, statistically at least 63% false and 78% illegal) to a small group. He can’t spot the others (-and that scares him, he can’t move to look, to look and to find and to make sure he didn’t dream them up-) so he closes his eyes and tries to breath, to the rhythm of a memory he can’t quite grasp. The music is too loud but he can’t grasp onto it either, voices and laughter and inane chatter flow over and through it and it’s like a flood-
There’s a hand on his arm.
His eyes fly open and his world zeroes in on the hand – dainty but strong, a grounding presence.
“Falling asleep old man?” The hand’s owner asks, and Bucky breathes. She’s got fire for hair and he remembers teaching her to kill a man in too many different ways for a young girl. He remembers watching her dance – grace and poise and deadly precision – and remembers how she’d made him feel human. She cocks her head to one side, and her small is small – she frowns, and for once the concern on her face doesn’t seem manufactured. “Where’s your head?”
“With you.” He mutters because it is, it’s always with her, because he loved her then and he loves her now, but he’s so much less than she deserves so he says nothing. She blinks, but there’s no other sign of surprise on her face. She traces her fingers delicately down his arm, and his skin feels alight at the touch, and when she takes his hand it’s like everything else falls away. “Natalia?” he asks, though the lump in his throat is swallow-able and he wants to be hopeful.
“James.” She returns with a smile – he realises that he’s just let on he remembers; that she already knew he did even though he’d been trying to hide it. “Dance with me.” It’s not a question, though it’s not an order, and Bucky goes rigid, the partially abated panic swelling right back up again.
“I don’t think I can.” He whispers, closing his eyes and trying to breathe-
She doesn’t answer, just leads him by the hand to the dancefloor. The sound surrounds them and buzzes in his ears, and he can’t look. It’ll be too bright, too colourful, and he needs to focus on his feet. She draws him closer, gentle but firm, his hand on her waist and hers on his shoulder. She leads despite the hold, and easier to breath now he’s moving. The steps come naturally, a rhythm and count that’s easy to follow as she anchors him here. The song ends – and when he opens his eyes he can take in the room again. Stevie had apparently danced that last with Stark, while Pepper had drawn Bruce out of his corner; but Bucky’s only got eyes for Natalia, who’s smiling up at him. “Better?” She asks, and he grins, brings her back into the hold as the next song starts up – it’s faster, something from his era, and it’s less of an impossible task and more of a challenge this time.
“Now you’re here.” He answers, and before she can respond, he takes the cue of the music and sends them off spinning, their laughter- her laughter, better than anything else he could have lost himself in tonight. He’s not ready, but he remembers; she loved him back then, and she might just love him back now.
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