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tumbleweedpalmer · 3 years

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Reasons Jimmy is the only man worth any respect:

Loves (loved 😭) his late wife Breena and clearly worshiped the ground she walked on. Would legit do anything to make her happy. Seriously he would have left ncis and given up his happiness when Ed offered him a job at the funeral home, just because he thought it would make Breena the happiest.

Clearly doted over his wife and was proud of her profession. He was president and proud founder of the Breena Slater fan club

Wanted to be a father so badly (he tried to adopt and was heartbroken when it fell through) and seems to enjoy parenthood now that he has a daughter

Had a traumatic childhood (depending on which writer was in charge of the episode that day) but still is a loving positive person

He dealt with the trauma and hatred he felt for his father (who is hinted to be abusive or just flat out a bad person. I mean Jimmy felt relief when the man died so...) before his daughter was born because he didn’t want past trauma to impact his ability to be the best father he could be

Genuinely loves his job and is passionate about it

Is passionate about learning (the only one who seemed to enjoy ducky’s stories most of the time)

Seems to worry about winning the approval of people he respects to the point that he clearly lights up when ducky or Gibbs praises him

Is overall a positive person who tries to have a good optimistic viewpoint on life despite seeing things everyday that prove that life is harsh and death is inevitable

Cares about his friends and loves his job to the point of being secretive about if he passed his M.E. Exam because he was afraid everyone would want him to get a better job and move on with his life and he didn’t want to leave his friends

He failed his M.E. Exam more than once but didn’t give up and still maintained the drive to achieve his goals

it is implied that he emails his mom often (when was the last time you called your mom huh?)

Offers advice to his friends and genuinely shows concern and distress when they seem troubled

Is generally a pretty intuitive guy when it comes to recognizing distress in the people he cares for. He tries his best to be empathetic with others when he sees they’re upset. He genuinely seems to recognize pain and tries his best to help.

Seems to have too much empathy from what we see of him talking about Gibbs’ past and understanding what Gibbs does everyday to keep living despite his immense loss.

Literally had to have Ed as a father in law and never once murdered him. So patience of an saint

Literally adores Ducky so much that when ducky had a heart attack he tried to insist on keeping by his bedside or having breena stay by his bedside

Literally loves Ducky enough to name his daughter after ducky’s mom

Wants the best for ducky and is shown being excited at the prospect of ducky having romantic interests.

That time he helped Ducky make a Facebook profile.

That time he tuned Ziva’s piano

Has embraced the name Autopsy Gremlin and is proud of it because he knows Tony doesn’t actually disrespect him

Is honestly a poster child for anxiety and awkwardness but still manages to find fulfillment (until the writers hurt him this season)

Offered “how to dad” advice and guidance to Tony and was willing to step in and be there for him to guide him on parenting Tali. He brought organic sweet potatoes to feed Tali in his lil dad fannypack!!! 😭🥺

Offered advice to Ziva and reassured her about Tali remembering her

Has maintained his place as a confidant to everyone and is willing to listen to people’s worries (Tony, Ziva, Kasie, Nick, Emily, etc.)

He freaking went on a paint and sip night with nick!!!

And punched someone for being homophobic

Roped Nick into donating money to that playground that was assessable for kids with disabilities and was passionate about the playground because he wanted every kid to have access to something as simple as a playground

He’s afraid of pigs....oh hon (I mean they will eat anything...including people, so fair)

Most over affectionate sob on the planet. Literally hugs everyone and clearly has a touch/affection based love language

He likes Gibbs head slaps and considers it an honor

Gibbs and Ducky are his dads and he won’t take constructive criticism on this fact

Over enthusiastic to the point of being like Mary Poppins on crack even at crime scenes

Just a good pure bean of a cinnamon roll and if the writers make his life worse I will hunt them down Liam Neeson style

Thank you for coming to my Tedtalk on why Jimmy Palmer is the only man worthy of respect. Thank you 🙏

#jimmy palmer #ncis

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lovelyirony · 3 years

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stealing caltech’s cannon sounds like such a rhodeytony thing. i can 100% picture them pulling that off

Tony hates Caltech. He hates them a lot. Mainly because they’ve been trying to get him to go there through a series of thousands of emails, letters, and phone calls.

They haven’t left him alone since he was around eight, and so he applied to MIT because of them. (Not that he would’ve gone to Caltech anyways, but spiting them certainly felt better.)

And they’re still sending people to MIT like some sort of Jehovah’s Witness program, and Tony hates trying to avoid them.

“Come on, you fit the California vibe so much better!” One of the students says.

“Did they genuinely pay for your flight here?” Tony asks. “Is that why you’re trying to get me to be late to my molecular biology class? My professor used to be a professional kickboxer, I don’t think you’d like being hit near as much as your university is advocating for it.”

“Come on, just visit the campus. Whoever gets you to visit first gets tuition off next year,” he whines.

Tony stills.

“Are they...they’re wasting funding on that?”

“Yes!”

“Buddy, I’ll pay for the rest of your college career if you transfer to MIT.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously. Even the flight here. Just tell them you need another flight back and don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

The student scurries off, and Tony sighs, writing down a note to write to Howard and write off the sum of the money off...he’ll probably write it off as something like gambling debts or something.

(Tony never loses in gambling. Ever.)

This is just one student, and while Tony would love to put Caltech out of business, he can write approximately one gambling debt of that nature off. Sure Howard wouldn’t pay attention to him probably, but that’s a big “probably.”

He goes to Rhodey, who also hates Caltech because they’ve been trying to get him to go over there.

“We need a permanent solution.”

“Like...not arson, right?”

“No!” Tony scowls. “Although if Caltech did burn, technically it probably wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to it...”

So they brainstorm.

And they come up with an idea that will make Caltech only come back to MIT once:

Stealing their beloved cannon. Caltech has this cannon that they restored (to shoot spaghetti out of it or something of the sort...the university wouldn’t allow actual fire) and it’s their pride and joy.

Well. Rhodey and Tony are always willing to go the extra mile.

Or three thousand miles.

There’s a new moving company with at least forty five-star reviews and three one-star just for good measure. (Rhodey’s idea.) Howe and Ser Moving Co.

It’s their job to move the cannon to a “secure” location for a newly leveled concrete panel.

They get polo shirts and everything. Rhodey is very surprised at the anonymity that affords a polo shirt.

“I should invest in this for my wardrobe.”

“I’ll never talk to you again if you do that,” Tony warns.

“You love me too much for that,” Rhodey grins. “I’ll wear a kelly green polo shirt and you’ll still love me.”

“No,” Tony says, ignoring how his heart speeds up. “Now come on, Jamie and Olivia are gonna greet us at Caltech. They’ve been posing as student tour guides and I think I owe Jamie some sort of illicit substance as recompense.”

“They want a Hobby Lobby giftcard.”

“That’s the illicit substance?!”

“To be fair, they are homophobic and very weirdly Christian.”

Tony pauses.

“...makes sense. Okay. Let’s go steal a cannon.”

They almost get caught. Almost. Some stupid freshman stops them and talks about how Harvey Mudd stole the cannon and how others have tried but they can’t.

“Yeah, sure would suck if someone did,” Tony says with a shrug. “Don’t you have something to do, like fail physics?”

“If I wanted to do that I’d go to MIT,” the freshman says with a sniff. “They wouldn’t know how to calculate movement if the equations were laid out. They’re so dense.”

“Uh huh,” Rhodey says. “Right.”

The cannon makes it about halfway with a broken hitch, and they have to drive about twenty under the speed limit to make it to a place where the next team can take over with a new hitch, and Tony can negotiate with the actual moving company that they hired to cut the price by half because it’s just ridiculous at this point.

The cannon makes it to MIT in the dead of night, Rhodey slides on the Brass Rat, and they point it towards Pasadena.

“Can I kiss you?” Rhodey asks, grinning. “You just...this was incredible.”

“We are not kissing in front of a Caltech artifact are you kidding me?” Tony says. “We will never do that. I’d hurl rather than do that.”

Rhodey laughs, swooping Tony into his arms and carrying him off.

“See our work on the front page tomorrow?”

“As long as our faces aren’t on it, I don’t care what we see tomorrow.”

#rhodeytony #this prank is very sexy actually #lovelyirony writes #also tony not wanting to even be SEEN with the cannon is very fucking funny #rhodey: i love you <3 #tony: not in front of the caltech cannon you don't

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amerie-wadia · 3 years

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Like a Heartbeat (Drives you Mad)

For the Anon who asked for Toni and Shelby with the prompts: “I’m worried about you.” + “They’re so cute when they’re asleep.”

Click here to read on AO3

Shelby dug her fingertips through the deep, charcoal sand. At first, she had scooped up the wet earth out of sheer boredom, a desire to move her body to keep from screaming. Overtime it had morphed into a means of coping with her anxiety. And it did help.

Shelby was upset. They were getting rescued and Shelby was upset and Toni fucking got it.

“Miss Shalifoe, did you hear my question?”

Toni let the sand fall between her fingers, watched as it pooled, grain by grain. The EMT kept asking her questions and Toni couldn’t quite figure out why all the burden seemed to be put on her. Well, it wasn’t completely shocking. Nora and Rachel were in pretty rough shape—they had been airlifted as soon as the helicopter flew overhead. Leah had totally lost her shit when the helicopter flew overhead just seconds after the shark attacked, as if it was truly all some freaky set up. Fatin and Martha had been consumed by their sobs, by their fear for Nora and Rachel. Dot had zoned out, perhaps as a way of coping, perhaps because she had just had enough and truly couldn’t do a thing. Shelby was the only other coherent one of the bunch but her hands were trembling and she couldn’t quite get her words out. Toni decided to answer the questions herself.

“No, I’m sorry.”

“It��s alright. Now, are you sure it was just the seven of you on the island? There wasn’t anybody else?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not trying to be patronizing, or anything, I just want to make sure we get all of you out of here.”

His expression looked a bit patronizing, his tone more so.

“It was just us. Jeanette was with us on the plane but she died the first night.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Where is she now?”

“I don’t know, a better place? A worse one? I didn’t really know her.”

He chuckled and Toni wished she had enough food in her stomach to vomit. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t clear. Where is her body? If she’s on the island I’ll need to pronounce her death. For legal purposes.”

“We buried her on the beach that way,” she pointed down shore, “but the tide washed her out.”

“The tide washed her out? Of the ground?”

“I don’t know, man. It happened though.”

“Okay, alright.”

Toni took another scoop of sand and a deep breath as it sprinkled down onto the ground soundlessly.

“It was internal bleeding—from the crash or the ocean maybe. Her stomach was like purple.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that, kid.”

“Me too.”

The EMT gave her a small smile and Toni wished the second helicopter would arrive soon. The pilot had promised he would send a radio message to the mainland to get them off the island as soon as possible. It felt like hours since Nora and Rachel had been sent off. There had been so much blood in the water that Toni couldn’t even tell whom had been hurt and how badly. She had closed her eyes, Shelby had shrieked, Martha had fallen to her knees. It had been only a few seconds, at first, but then hours had gone by and Toni still felt herself standing ankle deep in the ocean watching the shark’s fin circling Rachel as she floated.

Shelby was sitting beside Dot at the fire. Toni tried not to watch so she shifted her focus to the sand.

It had all happened so suddenly with Shelby. One moment she was that stupid, know-it-all, youth pastor who was singing church music while she peed and the next moment she was cradling Toni’s face as she kissed her more gently than Toni knew possible. Shelby was scared, more scared of being gay than Toni had ever been. Her coming out wasn’t that big of a deal, not many people in her community were homophobic and the ones that were only showed it in dark corners and empty parking lots. Her mom never stuck around enough to care and Martha and the Blackburn’s had accepted her with open arms. The Goodkind’s were not waiting with their arms outstretched for Shelby.

Toni wanted to reach out for Shelby, hold her hand or tell her that everything was going to be okay. But Shelby was in the closet, and Toni was never going to do anything to make Shelby feel forced to come out. She wouldn’t do that to her worst enemy.

Toni watched from across the beach until the sky was washed in darkness and the helicopter wind tossed her small sand mounds aside. As the EMTs ushered the girls into the helicopter, Shelby slid into the seat beside Toni.

“Hey,” she whispered, loud enough that everybody could hear over the eerie quiet, but soft enough that it was just for Toni.

“Hi.” Shelby made Toni’s voice sound softer than it really was, foreign to Toni’s ear. The last person who made her feel this soft was Reagan, and it still crushed Toni deep in her chest to think about Reagan.

“I’m worried about you.”

Toni felt her breath catch. Worried about her? What was Shelby worried about? Toni was going to be fine, just like she had always been. Shelby was the one who couldn’t stop shaking.

“I’m fine. I’m more concerned about you.”

“I’m serious, Toni. I don’t to be away from you.” Her face got serious and then she bit down on her lip and it rippled through her skin until her face went soft again. “I just…Look, I know things haven’t always been easy for you and, well, when Martha almost died and you said—”

“I remember what I said.”

“I just don’t want you to feel that way.”

“Shelby.” Toni glanced around but nobody was watching. They could hear them, might even be listening, but they all seemed to understand that they shouldn’t dwell. It felt too public to be a private conversation but the helicopter was starting to lift off the ground and the EMT was handing out headphones. Their time was running out.

“Toni, you’re not nothing.”

Toni’s chest hurt. She was about to say something really stupid.

“Don’t go back to Dallas.”

“It’s not that easy.”

The EMT gave Dot a pair of headphones. Only Fatin was left before Toni wouldn’t be able to talk to Shelby.

“It is. Come to Hopewell with me. Or we could go somewhere else. Or even—"

Shelby reached out for her hand, held it out in the open with a tightness that felt far too safe to be real.

She didn’t say anything else. Neither did Toni. The EMT handed them each their headphones and the helicopter crept into the sky.

The night was young enough that the island was still visible down below, just a faint outline of the worst and best of themselves. Toni suddenly felt Fatin take her other hand. Toni would normally feel suffocated, being surrounded by others as she cried—she wasn’t crying, Toni didn’t cry—but she didn’t feel scared at all. They had survived the worst-case-scenario, they had tried to kill each other at times but they had come together as a family. Toni hadn’t really understood what it felt like to be part of a family until the island. She held tightly to Fatin and Shelby’s hands.

She hoped Shelby understood that her offer wasn’t just a fantasy, that it could easily be their future. Shelby didn’t deserve those people, those judgmental and cruel people who would spend their lifetimes trying to change Shelby, to take everything that makes Shelby herself and burn it all away. Toni got fucked up families, and she knew how freeing it was to get away—how scary and guilt-ridden and lonely it was to be away. Toni could be there for Shelby, and Shelby for Toni. Maybe they could get jobs and have a little house with a hot tub.

Shelby’s hand had stopped trembling at some point. Toni knew it was because they were together, because Toni felt the same peace and safety having Shelby beside her. Shelby leaned against Toni and rested her chin on Toni’s shoulder. It was going to be a little while until they made it to wherever the EMTs were taking them. Toni had never thought to ask where they were or what was going to come next. She held tighter to Shelby’s hand.

“Dot! Dot!” Fatin resorted to shoving her elbow into Dot’s ribs since the girl clearly couldn’t hear her. “Dorothy!”

Dot’s eyebrows and shoulders went up in confusion.

“What?” she cried out, ringing a whisper through Fatin’s headphones.

“They’re so cute when they’re asleep,” Fatin shouted, hoping Dot could make out what she was trying to say. Shelby was fast asleep on Toni’s shoulder, with Toni snoring on the top of Shelby’s ratty hair. Their hands were woven together and feet tangled on the floor of the helicopter. Dot’s tense shoulders dropped and she smiled at Fatin. Fatin grinned, wishing so deeply that she had somebody to hold her like that, but also truly happy for her friends. Her family.

“They’re cutest when they’re not making our lives a living hell,” Dot teased. Fatin rolled her eyes but laughed.

“I love them.”

“Me too.”

“Love you, Dots.”

“Love you more, Fatin.”

Dot took Fatin’s hand and Fatin closed her eyes and let herself believe that when she opened them back up that everything would be okay.

#my writing #shelby x toni #toni x shelby #the wilds

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ironstrange-is-the-endgame · 3 years

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The Biphobia JUMPED today, huh. No Marvel are not homophobic because your BISEXUAL character has feelings for a woman. The amount of shit I've seen today is so disheartening. You don't make a character Bi just for them to only have a same sex relationship! As a Bi person, the amount of Biphobia I've received from the lgbtq community is so hurtful. They preach lgbtq, but shit on a Bi character for being a Bi character!

Honestly, the only tag page I look into is the Ironstrange one (and sometimes the FrostStrange and IronWidow ones, but still) so I'm luckily missing most of the drama and the things I'm seeing are the ones reblogged by people I follow. That's how I decided to be on Tumblr cause there's just as much I can take, but I can't say I'm surprised. Actually, I'm really sadly disappointed but not surprised.

I think you get to the right point here:

You don't make a character Bi just for them to only have a same sex relationship!

This is so FUCKING IMPORTANT! I'm going to use as an example a show I hope some people will know: How to Get Away With Murder and particularly two main characters and try to explain to other people what's the difference between homosexual and bisexual (should be pretty clear, but apparently for dumblr.com it's not)

Connor Walsh is a GAY man. He ONLY has relationships/one night stands with men. He's in NO way attracted to women.

Annalise Keating is a BISEXUAL woman. At the beginning of the show, she's married to a man, after he dies, she has a long-term relationship with another man, some one night stands with her lesbian ex from college, and at least another one night stand with another woman. She's attracted to BOTH men and women.

Is she less BI when she is married to Sam?! NOPE, because it doesn't matter who she is with AT THE MOMENT!

Is Loki less BI because he is seen starting to develop feelings for a woman? NO! Because he clearly SAID he had relationships with both men and women. But they didn't show us. And who fucking cares?! Did they show us every woman Tony fucked? Did they show us every one of Stephen's patients? Did they show us every stop of Cap's parade through Europe? Did they show us all the tortures Nat went through in the Red Room? NO! Why? Because they have a running time to follow. Does not showing us make any of those things less canonically real? NO!

So why would not showing us all of Loki's dates make the fact that he's bi less real?

I'm sorry anon, I'm sorry you received this treatment from a community that should be the most inclusive of them all, and I'm also sorry for the rant. I completely agree with you.

#loki #loki spoilers #loki series #loki series spoilers #marvel #marvel spoilers #mcu #mcu spoilers #spoilers #anonymous #asks

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anthonyed · 4 years

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The Kennedy Question (SamBucky)

There's a... hypothesis. It's circulating around their tower and Sam just got to make sure. He needs a theory and for that, he needs data.

It's pretty straight forward actually. He just has to ask the right question to the right person.

He spots his subject - already on his fifth cup of coffee, sweat dampened hair tied up in a half-bun and he's unnaturally happy. Good. Doesn't matter why he's happy but the point is he is. Which means, this is the right time to strike.

Flexing his biceps for an extra load of umph, Sam tilts his chin up and walks towards their resident centenarians.

"Hiya, Sam," Steve greets, face split into a smile, clearly happy that his moody half is looking cheery today.

"Hiya," Sam waves, pulling up a chair next to his target.

Half an egg and a sip of orange juice later, Sam looks at Steve who's whistling a tune, doing dishes and decides this is the right time to strike.

He turns to his target. And he fires the shot.

"Did you kill John F. Kennedy?"

He'd carefully lowered his voice so Steve wouldn't hear it over the running water and it works. Of course it works. Sam has hung out with Steve and Co. for a very long time, he knows how to gossip behind super-soldiers back by now.

All of his preps pointed towards positive results. A warranted reply. Except of course, Sam forgot to consider the fact that Barnes likes to be an ass around him just for the sake of it.

Hence, the reply he receives is: "You focus on stuffing your face or you're gonna be next."

The thing is, it's not a clear yes or no. It's not enough to confirm or reject the hypothesis. The very mystery of it drives Sam insane.

"Did you -," he ducks, blocking a jab. Hops to the left, avoiding a kick. Bloody Barnes is out for his blood.

But Sam knows how to handle him.

He gets the guy in a headlock the very next second after Steve yelled "Bucky, chill out!"

"Did you kill him?"

Barnes tries to elbow but Sam knows his stuff, oooh, he knows his stuff bloody well. He'd trained the lot - teenagers running wild with hormone committing truancies and petty crimes, all the prison breakers - name them, Sam has got all under his wing.

He fucking knows his stuffs. So, it's no surprise to anyone but Barnes when he gets the man on his knees. Head-lock still standing and the momentary shock gives Sam the chance to ask again, "Did you?"

Barnes coughs, splutters and taps on his hand so Sam loosens his grip. "What you gonna do? Report it?" He snarls, spitting fire like he actually believed Sam would.

The sheer absurdity of that doubt makes Sam let go of him; drop him like a hot-pocket. "The fuck would I do that for?"

Barnes, red-faced and sweat slick skin, hair falling over his face, glowers at Sam.

Sam stares at him right back. Dunno what he's asking/searching, but Sam's not afraid. He meets that glare with his own steady stare.

"You honestly think I'd sell you out." He states. Doesn't ask. Because that isn't a question.

He doesn't know what to think that Barnes thought of him that way.

"Wouldn't have helped Steve save you, if that was the case, you know."

"Why d'ya wanna know?" Barnes asks.

He was the only one in the communal floor when Sam had walked in; channel surfing and Sam had nabbed the remote to his disgruntled protest before settling on Animal Planet. Humans are exhausting for a Tuesday evening.

Now, after half an hour of watching Giant Squid hunting with no Giant Squid sighting, Barnes ends the silence with a frankly, vague as fuck question.

Sam squints at him for a good minute before it clicks and he straightens up in his seat. "Curiosity?" He shrugs.

Barnes looks at him flatly.

Sam glances at the screen, still no Giant Squid (just making sure), then back at Barnes. "Really, I just want to know. Barton's been spreading rumours."

Barnes doesn't say it, but it's there. The universal 'stupid Barton' look that everyone in the tower has at least once, worn.

"Tell me about it," Sam chuckles, slumping in his side of the couch. Barnes is not gonna give an answer. At least not today. That much is certain so, Sam returns to the screen.

A while after, the commentators are getting hyped up, the background music is building in anticipation and they're about to do the big reveal when the channel switches to a bunch of blonde bimbos.

"Barnes!" Sam aims a kick because there is no other way -

Barnes is predictably, two seats away, smirking into his hoodie and clicks away at the buttons.

"I'm spiking your dinner with ghost pepper. You won't know until it hits you - Oooh, you're so gonna regret this. I fucking hate you!"

Sam does yoga. It's for his mental health. Dealing with Veterans and delinquents need constant maintenance of his mind palace and he gives that through yoga.

Sometimes, he does it alone but usually it's with Wanda and Vision. Tends to get incredibly awkward sometimes (who knew Androids have sexual frustrations) but hey, it gets the job done.

Occasionally, Dr Banner joins them. Rarely, he drags Tony along just to make the man suffer for promised science experiments or whatever it is geniuses do. Natasha has her sessions after them, something about "Not needing all these stupidity for my clarity", whatever, prissy ass she-assassin.

Steve, Steve's pal and Barton don't do it. They just don't. (Steve once mentioned something about biceps getting in his way or another and Sam stopped paying attention. Barton is just a lazy human.)

Thus why, Sam gawks when he sees Steve's pal, the other Steve or more specifically, Bucky Barnes in a dog pose next to Wanda.

First thought; what the fuck?

Second thought; nice ass.

Third thought; the fucking fuck is that fuck - what!?

Fourth thought; "That's my spot."

Two heads turn to Sam, one head's body waves while another grins.

"Hi, Sam," Wanda beams.

"Hullo, Sam," Vision stops waving only when Sam waves back.

But Sam's eyes are still fixed on that nice pair of ass no!

"That's my spot." He points at where Barnes is ignoring him; flowing through his Surya Namaskar like he was born doing it until he stands, facing Sam and he looks straight into Sam's eyes.

There's something dangerous glinting in them and Sam wastes too many seconds distracting his thoughts from how fucking gorgeous that flow was that he only realises, once Barnes is already in Savasana, just what that glint was about.

"Fuck you, Barnes," he spits, walking towards him, not a pause as he steps onto the mat, then right on top of Barnes's stupid hard chest and over to the other side of Wanda.

Vision graciously makes room for Sam and no. Sam is not letting Bucky fucking Barnes ruin his mind-palace maintenance today.

Sam doesn't hate the guy. He honestly doesn't. He just, doesn't know the guy that well.

So, when he sees Barnes fidgeting under the island counter, long sleeves drawn out to bury his fingers while Steve and Tony lash out at each other in the kitchen (no privacy respect, those two. No, never. Almost everyone knows about that by now but Barnes, maybe cause he's still new here.) Sam gently elbows at his side and jerks his head towards the exit.

"They're always like that," he tells the guy solemnly. Hot aroma of coffee wafting in the air and Sam breathes it in deeply.

"Always?"

"Uh, huh."

He takes a sip of his cappuccino, watching Barnes stare at his black coffee gloomily.

Ten seconds later, Barnes asks, "If Stark hates Steve, then why is he letting him live in his place?" Letting me live in his place? Is the unasked question.

Sam takes a long sip before he replies. "Stark doesn't hate Steve," he observes the way Barnes' forehead wrinkle into a frown before it quickly flattened out. Erasing evidence. From everywhere except his eyes.

Sam doesn't know how he knows that nor is he going to analyse said matter, so he distracts himself by elaborating his answer.

"Stark never hated Steve. As a matter of fact, I think Stark likes Steve a little too much for his convenience."

This time, the frown stays and deepens. Sam grabs a napkin and shreds a strip out of its edge.

"You mean, he fancies Stevie?" Barnes mumbles his question towards his untouched coffee. Face contorting fifty ways different and Sam curses himself for even saying a thing in the first place. He can preach to many but he's not having the gay rights talk with a homophobic. That's where he officially draws his line.

To his surprise however, Barnes starts laughing.

It starts as a snort then grows into a chuckle and later a full-blown beautiful laughter. Fuck, dammit, Sam has got to stop thinking like that of this man.

But the steam from his still hot cappuccino swirling under the dim light of the cafe with its dark red background and velvety purple overthrows and cushions and Barnes in the mainframe with all those in the backdrop -

He's beautiful. There is no denying it. Happiness looks gorgeous on everyone and it especially looks stunning on Bucky Barnes.

"Never thought I'd see a day someone go ape-shit over Stevie, but here I am," Barnes chuckles, crinkled eyes, glazed with mirth swirling and molten grey. He's fucking gorgeous and Sam's heart restarts with a new rhythm.

Indeed, "Here you are."

Sam sits, and he thinks.

All he ever wanted was an answer to a simple question. That’s it. He didn’t ask for the moon or dream of fucking Captain America like Tony Stark and yet here he is. Four months after his first time asking the question; from not knowing the guy at all to somehow tolerating him and surprise, surprise, now he’s in a sticky crush situation with the guy.

Hell, no wonder Tony is the way he is with Steve. This whole crushing on super-soldiers is frustrating as fuck and Sam hates it.

In fact, he doesn’t even deserve it.

All he wanted was an answer. To a single simple question. Sam refuses to pine after Bucky Barnes for the price of solving Kennedy’s murder. He’s better than that. He can solve the mystery without selling his heart.

Sam decides this is the final straw and he isn’t having it anymore. He’s going to end it all.

“Did you or did you not kill John F. Kennedy?”

“Good afternoon to you too, Sammie,” Bucky Barnes grins, black hoodie and black pants, sitting cross-legged on the couch as he tosses an unopened bag of chips for Sam to catch. “Mario kart or are you finally brave enough to play The Last of Us Part 2?”

“Don’t call me that,” Sam grumbles, marching his way to the empty spot next to Barnes and plopping down. “It’s not about bravery. The reviews aren’t so good -,”

“I read them all. General opinion is still positive. You better hurry up, I’m running out of ways to stop Barton from spoiling it.”

The thought that Barnes is waiting for Sam to start on something is disconcerting. In a warm, fuzzy, heart palpitating way. So, Sam pops the chips’ bag open and stuffs a handful into his mouth in an attempt to drown out the feels with an obnoxiously loud CRUNCH.

“Is that why you throttled him last night?”

“No,” Barnes drawls lazily, leaning into Sam’s space to fish out a chip and pops it into his mouth. “That’s because he ate the last brownie.”

“Bruce’s?”

Barnes nods, wiping his finger over his pants and continuing to fiddle with the remote.

“Fair enough,” Sam declares. Then an idea pops up. “I’ll play that game if you answer my question.”

Barnes seems to know which one. His shoulders tense, squaring up and he seems to curl inwards, shrinking into his hoodie and Sam hates himself for causing this. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he blurts out. Anything to draw Barnes out of that state.

Shamefully, he wonders if this is what they meant by ‘simping’. God, he’s weak for this man and that’s ridiculously unfair.

Regardless, his words seem to work their miracle because Barnes relaxes, shoulders sagging and Sam feels his own tension bleed. The silence stretches uncomfortably for a while until all Sam could think is to not flex his fingers because that would crinkle the plastic bag and it would be loud and that would win the Guinness World Awkward Award.

Then, Barnes speaks. He’s still facing away, at the TV, and he scratches the back of his head through the hoodie as he asks quietly, “Can I ask you a question in return?”

Sam blinks. He minces his reflexive ‘You just asked’ and shrugs, “Sure.”

Exactly thirteen heartbeats after, Barnes asks, “Do you fancy men, Sammie?”

Sam’s throat goes dry. Something clenches in his chest, warning him about his own thoughts in the Cafe about not willing to explaining gay-rights to a homophobic. But he also remembers Barnes’ reaction to finding out Tony liking Steve like that. Especially Barnes’ laughter.

“Yeah,” Sam says, “I like both women and men.”

“A bisexual,” Barnes nods into his hoodie. As if he’s recalling something he read only yesterday. He probably is.

Sam pulls in a breath and sinks into his seat. He pulls out a chip and pops it into his mouth. “Anything else?”

He’s not ready when Barnes turns towards him. He’s mid-munch, chips still sharp shards that poke at his tongue when he meets grey eyes full of intent. But he swallows them anyway. Barnes’ unabashed and fearless, staring straight into Sam’s eyes as he pops the question that makes Sam’s palms and soles tickle.

“Do you wanna step out with me?”

Sam is 100% sure he croaks when he opens his mouth to say, “I’ll only say yes if you tell me whether you killed Kennedy or not.”

Barnes’ lips wobble and he ducks his head. Shoulders shaking when he looks up again with a beatific grin split across his face; gorgeous fucker. And he answers, “I don’t know, I don’t remember.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sam mutters, already grabbing him by his nape and he pulls him in to kiss that gorgeous happiness on his face. “Don’t care.” Another kiss, “Who cares?” Another “Dude’s dead anyway.”

Barnes laughs, head tipping back, body leaning to fall and Sam goes down with him gladly.

#sambucky #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes #mine

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hold-our-destiny · 4 years

Text

Backhand Slap

@badthingshappenbingo Promp: Backhand Slap. Read it here on ao3

This is a Peter/Flash fic :)

Warnings: violence, homophobic language, talks of death.

_____________

Peter and Flash’s relationship was… complicated.

Flash wasn’t out at school yet, so no one there knew about their relationship (other than Ned and MJ). Flash’s goons were still making Peter’s life hell, but Flash was getting them to back off somewhat.

It was okay. It didn’t bother Peter.

Until they found out.

____________

Peter flinched as someone slammed their fist against the locker next to his, mere inches from his face. He closed his locker and turned around to see Flash’s band of goons cornering him, Flash standing behind them with a mournful expression. Peter braced himself as a fist slammed into his stomach.

He doubled over, dropping his books in the process. Everyone was laughing around him, he didn’t dare look up, letting his gaze rest on the floor as he collected himself.

“Awww you gunna cry about it, penis?” Peter chuckled.

“‘S that all you got? I thought you’d be stronger. Pretty pathetic if you ask-” Peter choked as a boot landed a hit on his stomach again, followed by a punch to the jaw.

Thomas, the self proclaimed ‘leader’ of the group crouched down and pulled peter’s hair so he was looking at him. He chuckled lowly.

“You’re calling me pathetic? You’re not serious, right?” He paused, turning his gaze up to the rest of the group.

He stood up again, “Hey, Flash. You gunna get in on this?” There was a sick tone to his voice, Peter couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.

Peter could tell Flash refused, his gaze still resting on the floor, “Why not? I thought you hated this guy. It’s like you’re against us all of a sudden. You pitying this faggot?”

Peter flinched, and he knew the leader could see it, he curled more in on himself.

“Come on, you gotta hate him by now. He’s such a fucking pansy, walking around school like he owns the place. He needs to learn where he stands,” He walked over to Peter yet again, crouching down, “Cause you’re just a pathetic little shit. No wonder your whole family died, I would too if i was related to you-”

“Stop!” The taunts stopped as Thomas turned to see Flash standing a few feet away from him, inside the circle the group had created in the hallway. Peter looked up, too, tears streaming down his face, from the pain or the cruel words, Flash didn’t know.

“What did you say?” There was a sneer in Thomas’s voice, seemingly towering over flash where he stood, even though their height difference was scarce.

“I said stop. I’ll do it.” Thomas looked taken aback, as he processed Flash’s words.

“Oh yeah? You’re gunna hit this fucking fag? You’re gonna do that, huh?” He taunted, moving closer to Peter.

“Okay, just back off,” Thomas lifted his hands in a ‘surrender’ gesture, moving away from the teenager, still on the floor.

Flash moved towards Peter, crouching down and lifting his head so they made eye contact. Flash’s eyes betrayed his expression. Peter saw all the guilt he possessed, he knew Flash didn’t want to do this, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Flash faltered as Thomas spoke up once again, “Go on, put him in his place. You know what to do, you’ve been doing it for years for fuck’s-”

Flash held up a hand, silencing Thomas. His expression didn’t falter when Peter flinched, and Peter didn’t know if that was good or bad.

Flash leaned down to whisper in Peter’s ear, still loud enough for the others to hear.

“You’re so fucking pathetic, Parker. You know that, don’t you. No one wants to even get close to you, sared you’ll infect them with your fucking disiease.” He spat, tears were still streaming down Peter’s face, “Your family had to die to get away from you. ‘Cause you’re a disgusting fucking faggot”

Peter flinched at the last word, looking up as Flash stood up. He looked towards Thomas before lowering his gaze back to his boyfriend.

Peter didn’t even see the slap coming, as it jolted his head to the side, his body following.

He lay there on the floor for a while, listening to the sniggers of ‘pathetic’ and ‘weak’ as they retreated, before he stood up. He slowly collected his discarded books from the floor, realising it was more than half way through fourth period.

As he walked out the school gates, he pulled out his phone, dialing the number that’s burned into his memory, tears fogging up his view of the screen.

“Hey pete, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be in school?” at the sound of his mentor’s voice, Peter started sobbing, the past half hour’s events catching up to him, “Kid? What’s wrong?”

“Can you come pick me up?” Peter managed to choke out.

_____________

Tony didn’t let Flash into the tower at first, but when he saw the distraught teenager, he knew he should hear his side of the story, he could barely make out the words Peter sobbed out on their way back from the school.

Obviously, when Tony saw his kid covered in developing bruises, sobbing his heart out, he was ready to kill someone. Peter could barely get an explanation out, but from what Tony could make out, Flash was the cause of it. It had only been a year since Tony had taken Peter in, a few months since Peter told him he had a boyfriend, and Tony hadn’t been happy when he found out it was Flash Thompson of all people.

And there he stood, in the middle of the penthouse, Flash Thompson standing in front of him, tears still running down his face, trying to explain what happened.

“I didn’t want to but- but i knew that they’d hurt peter anway. If I- If i did it myself, I- he wouldn’t be hurt as bad.”

“And that’s an excuse for hurting my kid? You think that’s okay?” Tony was seething.

“No Sir! I know there’s no excuse for what i did- what i said, but i just wanted to apologise… To Peter,” Tony took a breath, trying to get his thoughts in order.

This guy hurt his kid, he couldn’t let him see him. But that wasn’t for him to decide, was it?

“Okay kid, I’ll go geth Peter. You stay here, okay?” Flash nodded hurriedly, wiping his tears off his face, seemingly trying to make himself look slightly more put together.

Tony walked down the hall towards Peter’s room, cracking the door open slightly and identifying the bundle of blankets on the bed as the teenager.

“Hey, kiddo. You okay?” Peter looked up at him, squinting through the light and nodding his head slightly.

“Do you wanna come out from under there?” Peter nodded and sat up, wincing slightly before swinging his feet over the side of the bed. Tony walked over to him, sitting down next to him and greeting him with a side hug.

Tony spotted the bag of peas on Peter’s nightstand and sighed, “you know you’re supposed to keep those on your eye, kiddo.”

“Melted” Peter answered simply, evidently not up to talking, Tony nodded.

“Flash is here, he said he wanted to apologise.” Peter’s eyes snapped up to Tony’s.

“He’s here?”

“Yeah, Pete, he’s just down the hall. Do you want me to-” Tony watched, startled, as Peter ran out of the room, before getting up and following him down the hall.

He entered the room to see the two teenagers hugging, Peter sobbing into the other’s chest, and silent tears falling down Flash’s cheeks.

“It’s okay, I’m okay…” Flash was murmuring, rocking them both slightly.

“I thought they were gonna hurt you” Peter sobbed.

“Me? They would’ve hurt you worse. Fuck, i hurt you-”

“It’s okay, Flash, I’m okay,” Peter cut him off, turning his head up to look into Flash’s eyes.

Flash gasped, bringing a hand up to cup his boyfriend’s jaw, “You’re bruised-”

“I’m okay-”

“No you’re not, i let them hurt you-”

“You didn’t let them-”

“I didn’t want them to hurt you more-”

“Flash, i know-”

“No you don’t.” Peter’s mouth snapped shut, worry gleaming in his eyes, “I said those things- horrible things to you. It took you months to believe i wasn’t going to hurt you again but i did-” Peter opened his mouth to interject but flash met his eyes, let him see the guilt shining in them, “They were going to beat you, Peter. They were going to hurt you and i tried to stop them but i just hurt you more-”

“They were going to hurt you if you didn’t, I couldn’t let that happen,”

Peter buried his head in Flash’s chest again, “They hurt me more than you did- no, listen to me- Yeah, you said some bad things but i know you didn’t mean them, you would never say those things to me. You know I trust you.”

Flash nodded, planting a kiss on Peter’s hairline, burying his head in the mop of curls he loved so dearly.

“Now can we please watch star wars, you’re not cancelling our weekly movie night for this.”

___________

Tag list:

@baloobird @dreamingformuses @romeoandjulietyouwish @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @just-the-daydreamer @verdonafrost @imalivebecauseirondad @fallenstar07 @bestofirondadfics @iron-loyalty @asthmaticpansexual@whatschooldoesntteachyou @serious-problems

#Daniel writes #flash/peter #flash thompson/ peter parker #flash thompson x peter parker #flash x peter #i love them #peter parker #tony stark #flash thompson #tw homophobia #tw violence

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tisfan · 4 years

Note

Hey, are you still doing those prompts? If yes, would you write some IronFalcon - or even some WinterIronFalcon? (which huii ~ *fans myself*) With either 21. "Are you being sarcastic?" "Me? Sarcastic? Never." Or 82. "What a load of bullshit." Please and thank you! :D (If you don't do them anymore; whoops my bad :P)

Title: Welcome to the Club Collaborator(s) Tisfan Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235783 Square Filled Y4: Collateral Damage StarkBucks Bingo: B1: walking disaster Ship/Main Pairing Bucky/Sam Bucky/Sam/Tony Rating general Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings some homophobic language, homophobic parents, Howard Stark’s A+ parenting, pre-slash, possible threesome much much later Summary Bucky’s getting some use out of his terrible Christmas Present. Unfortunately, Tony gets in the way. Word Count 1580

For @buckybarnesbingo @starkbucksbingo and @justsomeoneunordinary

Tony took the empty cardboard boxes, neatly broken down as requested by the big sign in front of the dumpers, down the stairs. Moving in the day after Christmas had been rough, and he was glad he didn’t have a lot of stuff to take with him. (Howard had practically growled the whole time he was packing, making sure he didn’t take anything valuable with him to sell on the other side.)

The smallest rental van he could afford and a few trips, and he was now the proud renter of a shitty apartment with almost no furniture, some crappy dishes, his clothes, and Dum-E taking up space.

On the plus side, he’d discovered that his mom had slipped a couple thousand dollars into one of the moving boxes before he left, so he had a little less precarious problems than he had before he’d unpacked it.

Tony about jumped out of his skin when the dumpster next to him exploded. Debris rained down on him, sharp and stinging.

He hit the ground, scraping the denim out at the knee, and erasing some of the skin underneath. “Son of a bitch,” he yelled, covering his head.

The moment of sheer panic subsided and he realized what he’d thought was a bomb or gunfire was, in fact, the shattered remains of a plate.

He stared around, until finally he looked up to discover two men standing on a balcony overlooking the trashcan. One of them had his hand over his mouth and looked aghast. The other was laughing like a loon, pointing at the first one.

“Shit, man, you okay?”

Tony climbed to his feet, hissing as his knee stung. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Sam’s chuckin’ china,” the other man said, still giggling. “Sorry, you’re just collateral damage.”

Tony looked down at his ruined jeans. “Yeah, great,” he said. “Fantastic. Terrific.” He limped a few steps back toward his apartment, the cut dripping blood down his calf and into his sock. Shit. He didn’t even think he owned a first aid kit.

“Seriously, man, you okay?” Sam was practically leaning off the balcony, and while it wasn’t that high up, falling three stories onto a cement sidewalk wasn’t going to be good for anyone.

“Scraped my knee,” Tony reported.

“You missed, you asshole, you missed,” the other guy said.

“Hang on a minute,” Sam yelled, then smacked the other guy who was still laughing. “Shut up, you walking disaster.”

Both of them vanished into their apartment. Tony waited for a moment, then decided he didn’t really need someone taking pictures and for it to end up in one of those cheap supermarket magazines. It wouldn’t take long for Howard to figure out that Tony hadn’t even made it one day before something stupid happened.

He got all the way to the stairs before his leg decided enough of this shit. Fuck. Well, maybe he could just rest a bit, and--

“Wait, no, don’t sit down, we’re comin’,” the laughing guy said.

Don’t sit down, what was he, crazy. “Don’t sit down,” Tony grumbled, “what are you, crazy?”

“Don’t you mind him,” Sam said. “Look, if it’s okay, we goan carry you upstairs and see to that knee of yours. You can trust me, I’m an EMT.”

“Don’t look at me,” the other guy said, “I just drive the ambulance.” The other guy was hard not to look at, honestly. Grey-blue eyes and a jaw you could rest a shot glass on. Man, Tony would like to do shots off that jaw, honestly. He decided that not getting punched in the face was the better part of valor, however, and didn’t say so.

“You guys--”

“Work for the local hospital, yeah. I’m Sam Wilson, this is my partner, Bucky Barnes.” Sam offered a hand to shake.

“And you’re going to carry me upstairs,” Tony continued. “Are you sure you didn’t hit me in the head?”

“Yep,” Bucky said. He and Sam did something, and suddenly their hands were aligned in such a way, with one of them gripping the other’s forearms, that made a little basket of their arms. Something to sit on. Huh. Tony was impressed. Sure, why not.

“If you all drop me down the stairs, I will sue,” Tony said.

“I ain’t drop nobody yet,” Bucky said. “That’s Steve.” And at Tony’s blank look, he added, “another guy on our crew. But me and Sam are the same height, so we can do this.”

“Huh. Okay.”

Gingerly, Tony sat down on the little seat-frame they made.

“One, two--” Sam said, and suddenly Tony was being carried like he was the damn Prom King or something, and they went up the stairs with alacrity. Two flights and Tony might have been breathing hard, but these guys weren’t even breaking a sweat.

“Uh, don’t you even want to know what floor I’m on?”

“Nope, you’re coming to our place,” Sam said. “My kit’s there.”

“Am I being kidnapped for my kidney, this sounds like it might be--”

“Oh shut up,” Sam said, “an’ open the door. It’s unlocked.”

“All right, here, on the sofa, and--”

“Drop your britches,” Sam said.

“This is sounding more and more like a kidnapping at every turn,” Tony said, but he did what Sam said, because there was, in fact, an EMT kit right there on the coffee table. And also, treating a scraped knee was going to take either getting the pants off, or cutting them open. And Tony didn’t have that many pairs of pants, really. He could get one of those iron on patches, and whine at Pepper, maybe, until she fixed them. Although she would probably just look up some videos on YouTube for him and tell him to stop assuming she knew how to cook or sew just because she was a woman. Maybe he wouldn’t ask her.

See, Pepper, I can be taught.

Sitting in his boxers on someone else’s sofa that he didn’t even know was super weird.

“This is super weird, guys,” Tony said.

“No, no, the guy we had to triage about fifty feet down a drainpipe, that was weird.”

“I dunno, I liked the lady who got stuck to the inflow pipe of her swimming pool. That was fun.”

The two of them traded stories back and forth, Tony listening with rapt attention, as Sam cleaned out Tony’s knee.

“Here, you got some gravel in it,” Sam said. He pulled out a pair of extra long tweezers and a kidney shaped metal dish, plucking the rocks and debris from Tony’s wound with an expert hand. The gravel made little plink noises as it hit the dish.

“Little bit of bacitracin and some topical numbing agent--”

“Like the stuff in solarcaine,” Bucky added helpfully.

“--and a bit of spray on skin, to seal it up. Wearing a bandaid on your knee is all but pointless,” Sam said.

“Huh.” Tony looked down, then put his pants back on. It still hurt, but it wasn’t bleeding. So, you know, that was good. “So, uh, why were you throwing dishes off the balcony?”

“So, Bucky and me, we’re partners, right?” Sam said. “And--”

“My father doesn’t approve, which you know, whatever, screw him anyway,” Bucky said. “Although I can’t figure out if the problem is, I am gay, or that Sam is black.”

“Usually with that type, it’s both,” Tony said.

“But he’s been trying to-- I don’t know, get fuckin’ brownie points with me by pretending everything’s still cool,” Bucky said. “It’s stupid, but I reckon he don’t want to end up being old and my bein’ the person who gets to pick his nursin’ home or something. Or he doesn’t want people to ask the wrong sorts of questions.”

“Bucky’s a hero,” Sam said. “It was in the papers and everything. So people do ask about his son.”

“So, he sent me this fuckin’ Christmas present, right?”

“Dishes?”

“Yeah, like, not even ones you can eat off, but those bullshit things you put on the wall,” Bucky said.

“Bradford Exchange,” Tony asked, because Rhodey had gotten big into those for a while, buying plates with Star Trek ships on them, and the like. He had a whole collection of them.

“An’ like, not even nice ones of those. Crappy ones. With bible verses on them. That you get from like, the Dollar Store.”

“Which would still be okay, spirit of Christmas, maybe,” Sam said. “Except he regifted them. Someone at his office gave them to him, and he left the receipt in the box. Probably not on purpose--”

“With George, it’s not like you can tell whether he’s bein’ a jackass or not,” Bucky complained. “What a load of bullshit.”

Tony recognized that tone of voice, too. That was the tone of a man who still cared, and was mad at himself that he did. Wanting Dad’s approval and hating himself that he wanted it. And still not getting it.

“So, this happy asshole here,” Sam said, “was trying to see if he could hit the dumpster from the balcony. Which is how you ended up involved.”

“Hey, I got two of them in, which ain’t half bad. You’re the one who missed by a mile.”

“My dad kicked me out three days ago, because he caught me in my room with a boy,” Tony said. “So-- can I join your club?”

Sam and Bucky looked at each other, then grinned. “We’ve even got jackets.”

#buckybarnesbingo #starkbucksbingo #prompts #winterironfalcon #EMT AU #justsomeoneunordinary

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aspiringwarriorlibrarian · 4 years

Note

Hi, randpm question perhaps, but I seem to remember you or one of your friends here mentioning Marvel's Infinity War and Endgame movies not being all that great. I personally liked them (with some criticisms none-the-less) but it got me quite interested in asking what you think it should have been like and how its story should have gone. I ask this with genuine interest as I believe your take would be interesting and fun to explore.

Sorry to go off but this is what I’ve been able to round up.

A) Cap’s ending where he ends up with Peggy Carter makes no sense because then he’d just be forced to witness all of the atrocities of the past and be quiet about them to avoid disrupting the timeline which is not at all happy beyond a superficial “guy gets the girl” ending since Captain America specifically refused to indulge in any nostalgia for the time period he left behind and in turn left behind all the progress he made in adjusting to this era and his new friends.

B) The endless fat jokes surrounding Thor which....yeah I shouldn’t have to explain why this is bad, it just is. Because hey, PTSD is funny if they’re less than physically perfect, huh? (And don’t try to turn this into a ‘but he was worthy all along’ thing, they were still making jokes after that) Also just shoving in a new eye and giving him a new “hammer” rather than acknowledging any of the steps Ragnarok made.

C) Our “first gay character” is a nameless talking extra who can easily be edited out for any homophobic audiences.

D) The Marvel practice of telling actors nothing that they don’t absolutely have to in order to avoid ‘spoilers’ which makes the scenes feel off (Tom Holland thinking Tony’s funeral was a wedding, Brie Larson not knowing the context of “Where’s Fury?, the fact that the first script reading was a fake script oh my god how do you fuck up this badly). This isn’t the first time they’ve done it but this is the first time they’ve been so outwardly proud of it like, no, this isn’t good directing, your actors don’t know what they’re doing and that’s impeding their ability to work.

E) The utterly performative girl power moment which stuck out like a sore thumb.

I’m sure there’s many other criticisms to be had but this is going on long enough and they all fall subordinate to my and many others’ ultimate criticism:

F) THANOS FUCKING SUCKS

No seriously. He does. The idea that he’s doing this because of overpopulation fucking sucks. Not only is a bad idea but it’s an outdated ecofascist ideal that the movie itself never actually challenges properly beyond “oh it’s bad to kill people” and even kinda seems to endorse with the whole “the whales are coming back” moment in Endgame. (Hey you know what didn’t change pollution? A lot of people staying home and minimizing their personal pollution for a few months. Amazing how coronavirus popped that myth like a rancid balloon.) It’s utter bullshit and NO ONE CALLS HIM ON IT because adding another character in Lady Death would be “too complicated”. Hey, maybe you can just have Lady Death as a religious ideal or a figment of his imagination, problem solved. But no, we have to come up with a “valid reason” why someone would want to commit genocide. Like any of the people who actually committed it needed one.

Also that super fucking awful scene where his feelings for his abused daughter is treated as actual love enough for him to sacrifice her for the Soul Stone in a scene that’s supposed to emphasize how much of a sacrifice this is for him and how bad we have to feel for him and look at him interacting with little Gamora aw he actually loved her NO HE FUCKING DIDN’T. HE ABUSED HER. HORRIBLY. Yeah I know that abusers genuinely believe they love their children and hey if your definition of love is wide enough maybe they do but when Gamora said “this isn’t love” then the movie should have fucking validated her. Abusive love cannot count as “real love” enough for the Soul Stone to consider it a sacrifice. Instead they fridged her for the sake of her abusive father. What in the flying FUCK.

Like this is nothing against the actor but goddamn the writing for Thanos is awful and I hate it and it ruins the movies for me because the movies are based on this awful ecofascist myth and don’t challenge it. Like you want a villain with a valid reason to believe what he believes, but who actually gets called on his imperial and genocidal ambitions? Killmonger’s right there.

#genocide tw #abuse tw #avengers infinity war #avengers endgame #like remember how they never entertained for a second that killmonger's plan would actually improve the world in any way? that was nice

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starker-stories · 4 years

Text

Long Lenses

It’s been awhile since I posted something new & original. This has been sitting forgotten in my WIPs for a bit. Lost it, found it, posting it.

Also on AO3

If you like what I write, may I recommend subscribing to my feed? After having lost my blog to my own idiocy, I kinda have a distrust of tumblr. I’ve had other issues here with things just disappearing for no reason. Plus when tumblr (or I) mess up, anything below a readmore disappears. So AO3 is the best place to read my stuff. It’s ALL there, long or short.

Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Quentin Beck, May Parker (Spider-Man) Additional Tags: Cheating, College Student Peter Parker, Closeted Character, Arguing, Happy Ending, Manipulation, Closeted Tony Stark, Press and Tabloids, Secret Relationship, Homophobic Language, used only once, Outing, Offscreen Pepper Potts, Cheating isn't Starker

Summary: “You’d much rather give the world the image of a happily married heterosexual man than to have the world know that you just go through the motions with her and are secretly as gay as I am,” Peter said bitterly. -------------------------------------------------------------------

“Stay,” Peter said, lying in bed still long before dawn on Sunday morning. He watched Tony dress.

“You know I can’t.” Tony made sure that his suit was appropriately rumpled, his shirt pulled out on one side, his tie askew. He took a drink, rinsed his mouth with the strong scotch. Sloshed a little out of the glass onto his shirt to make the picture believable.

“Stay.” Peter reached out his hand. Tony bent over and kissed Peter, who frowned. “I hate it when you smell like that. Almost as much as I hate the way you smell on Saturday afternoon when you get here. I don’t know what’s worse, watching you pretend to be a drunk or having you smell like her.”

“Peter, you knew the terms when you said yes.”

“And I knew the terms when you said you were going to leave her. When’s that gonna happen, huh?”

Tony sighed. “I hate it when you wake up.”

“You’d rather just sneak out and leave me to wake up to an empty bed,” Peter said angrily.

“Look, she knows I go out with friends on Saturday night. She hates it and gives me hell for it, but I’m here every single Saturday. I have ‘business meetings’ scheduled every Wednesday. Which, since she’s still my PA, she knows I don’t.”

“After which you’re always out the door before ten.”

“Peter, if you don’t like it, I just won’t do it anymore, okay?”

“I’m that fucking inconsequential to you?”

“You know that’s not true. I love you.”

“Not enough to leave her.”

“Things are complicated.”

“Of course they are. You’d much rather give the world the image of a happily married heterosexual man than to have the world know that you just go through the motions with her and are secretly as gay as I am,” Peter said bitterly.

Tony sighed and headed for the door. “Whatever Peter.”

Before the door shut, with a tear strained voice, “Will I see you Wednesday?”

His answer was a closed door.

It didn’t stop him from fixing dinner for two after his last class on Wednesday afternoon. Or waiting nervously to see if the door to the apartment Tony paid for would open by Tony’s key. Almost two hours late, it did.

Tony leaned over and gave Peter a peck on the cheek. “Sorry. I tried to get out as soon as I could, but things ran long.”

He always smelled like her on Wednesdays but this time her perfume was stronger than normal. “It’s okay. I just turned the lasagna down when I noticed you were running late.”

Tony sat at the kitchenette table and watched as Peter laid the dinner. “How was class? Professor Martinez still giving you a hard time?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Peter smiled as Tony poured the wine for both of them. “I thought I’d take fifteen hours next semester instead of twelve. Other than physics, the rest is a breeze. I can handle more work.” He paused. “Is that going to be okay? It’s going to cost more.”

“If you think you can handle the course load, you know I have no problem with that, baby. I want you to get whatever you can out of school. Fifteen hours a semester? And if you take summer courses, you can graduate in three years.”

Peter laughed. “One more than it took you.”

“Yeah baby, but I got all my prereqs done while I was in high school. You had to trudge through all that last year.”

“I just didn’t want to take summer classes, that’s all. You mentioned something about a yacht,” Peter said teasingly.

“Yeah, well…”

Peter tried to hide his disappointment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s just that the press… every time I take the boat out, they’re out there with their long lenses. Fuck, last time they caught me and Pep nude sunbathing with a drone.”

Peter’s lips drew into a sharp line. He’d seen those pictures of course. Nude sunbathing wasn’t the half of what they’d caught. “Summer classes are fine,” he said tersely.

“I’m sorry baby.” Tony reached his hand across the table and took Peter’s in it.

Peter shrugged. “It is what it is, right?”

“I was thinking…” Tony smiled. “I’d take a hell of a hit in the prenup, but if she caught me with another woman… We still couldn’t be public, but as a single man I’d have a lot more time to spend with you.”

Peter brightened. “You’d do that?”

“Pretty sure she already suspects something. It wouldn’t be hard to convince her. To have some ‘well meaning’ friend of hers catch me with a girlfriend and tell her.”

“Then I’d just have to share you with your girlfriend. There’d have to be one, right?”

“Just for show.”

“Why can’t it just be us? No one would care.”

“I still do business in a lot of parts of the world where they do care.”

“I’ll never have you to myself, will I?”

“You’ll always be the only one who I love. Why do we have to fight? I get to see you so little, I hate to spend it fighting.”

Peter smiled. “I can think of much better ways to spend the next two hours.”

~~~~~

It wasn’t difficult to make a device to disguise his voice. Finding a payphone in a New York suburb was harder, but he hacked into the phone company’s computer and got a list of every functional payphone within twenty miles of a train stop. Getting there untraceably was another challenge. But trains were anonymous and cab drivers even more so when you behaved normally without anything odd to set you apart from dozens of other fares. The phone was a lot closer to the train station than he thought, so he decided that after his call, he’d just walk back there. Even more anonymous.

Finding a reporter with a grudge against Tony Stark wasn’t hard at all. Finding one who had the clout to push a controversial story past frightened editors narrowed the field down to one, Quentin Beck.

“Mr. Beck? I’ve got some news about Tony Stark you might be interested in.”

“I doubt it. I’d need sources and those dry up as soon as Stark starts throwing his money around.”

“He’s having an affair.”

“I thought you said news. Everyone knows that he cheats on his wife.”

“With another man?” Peter added.

“You have my attention. That’s a hell of an accusation. I’ll need details and undeniable proof.”

“Details I can give you. Proof, you’ll have to get on your own.”

“Details then,” Beck said tersely.

“They meet every week.”

“How do you know this?”

“I see him go in. I know who lives there.”

“How do you know that he’s not seeing a woman there? Because like I said, that’s no news at all.”

“The women living in that building are either old or with kids,” Peter expected Beck to take the bait sooner than that. He was having to improvise.

“Lotta women with kids screw around.”

“The only man living in that building is a queer. Stark’s gotta be at least twice his age. It’s sick.” It hurt Peter to have to refer to both of them like that, but Beck was still resisting.

“Address?”

Peter gave him the address of the building he lived in. “He’s there every Saturday. I don’t know if there’s any other time. I’ve seen him go in. My shift ends at two and I’ve never seen him come out, so he stays until after that.” There were three different all night businesses on the same block as his apartment. It wasn’t unbelievable that someone in one of them could’ve seen Tony go into his building.

“Who are you? So I can credit you.”

Peter laughed. “I’m not losing my job over this.”

“So you’re just a concerned citizen.”

“Yep. I don’t like perverts passing themselves off as good married men.”

~~~~~

It was easy for Peter to take the intercom in his apartment apart and disconnect the buzzer to let Tony in on Saturday afternoon.

“Something’s wrong with my door thing.” Peter explained as he came down to the door. He was barefoot and wearing shorts so short they were barely covered by the hem of his t-shirt. “I can hear the doorbell ring, but I can’t buzz anyone in. My pizza last night was almost sent back. Fortunately the delivery guy phoned me.” He leaned up and gave Tony a quick peck on the cheek as he shut the glass lobby door behind him.

“Glad to see you’re in a better mood tonight.” Tony smiled and caught Peter by the waist returning his peck with a more substantial kiss.

“I get to have you in my bed all night, of course I’m in a better mood.” Peter smiled, took Tony’s hand and led him up the stairs to his apartment which was over a block of small shops.

There was no arguing, no demands, no pouting. Peter had no idea if Beck actually took his tip seriously or not. But it was a last ditch effort to finally have Tony be his. Tony would never know how Quentin Beck got his information. He was one of the reporters who dogged him ceaselessly and one he hadn’t been able to control. Peter was fairly certain that Tony would believe it was just bad luck and Beck following him trying to get dirt on something else.

Upstairs, Tony took apart Peter’s intercom and found the singed wire he made to look like an ordinary short.

“Thank you. It’s so hard to get the super up to do anything around here. I’m not complaining. It’s a nice apartment, close to school, and right on the subway, so it’s perfect. But you know… they try to get away with doing as little work as possible.”

Tony laughed. “I should buy the building.”

“It’s a little down market for you, don’t you think?”

~~~~~

It was one of the best Saturday nights they’d had in a long time. Especially since Peter pretended to be very hard asleep when Tony got up to leave. He grumbled a little and turned over but then drifted (or seemed to) right back off.

Now all he had to do was wait for the papers. It was probably too late to make it into Sunday’s but Monday morning? Peter didn’t buy a copy. He didn’t want the evidence lying around his apartment. But the library at school had subscriptions to every New York paper. It wasn’t in the paper Beck worked for. Peter was about to give up, disappointed that his scheming came to nothing. Then he saw the tabloid. It didn’t have a byline for Quentin Beck, just ‘staff’. Peter supposed that when his editor shot him down, Beck decided that a paycheck was worth more than a byline.

The pictures were remarkably clear. Peter winced at seeing how clear his face was in addition to Tony’s. He winced harder when he read the article and found out that either Beck or the tabloid’s staff had discovered his name from the apartment’s records. And even worse, they had copies of checks from Tony’s private account that showed he paid Peter’s rent.

He ran home from the school library. There were reporters outside his door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I forgot my chemistry text. I need to get back before my next class. Why are you here? Let me through! Don’t touch me!” He twisted out of the reporter’s grasp. He was shaking so hard he couldn’t get his key to work. They were shouting questions at him and cameras were going off around him. Three tries later, he was inside the lobby where reporters weren’t allowed to go. He didn’t wait for the elevator but ran up the stairs. He pulled the curtains shut and curled up in the middle of the bed, crying.

Clearly, he had not thought this through. He had grossly miscalculated and he regretted his decision tremendously. Instead of doing something to assure him of finally having Tony all to himself, he might have driven him away permanently.

Peter sat staring at his phone, hoping Tony would call. It rang often, but he didn’t answer. Tony had a special ringtone. All other calls, even from his friends, he rejected. Tony didn’t call. Peter imagined he was busy trying to put out the fires on his end. After a few hours, he tried to call Tony. It rang once and then went straight to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message. He waited another hour to the same results. The next call, two hours later, he left a voicemail.

“Tony, I’m scared. They’re outside my door. I… I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I’m locked in and I’m alone and I don’t know what’s going on.” He was crying. “What happened, Tony? Please call me back. Please. I know… I know things have to be bad for you too. But I’m scared, Tony. I’m scared.”

Not only might he lose Tony, but his whole life was about to be ruined. If they had the rent checks, they would find other things too. Like his school schedule. Like the fact that Tony was paying his tuition. That he’d set up an account for Peter to pay for groceries and books and other little things. Oh god, they might even find out his aunt’s name and number.

“May? Has anyone… Have you…” Peter was sobbing.

“Peter, what’s going on? I went to work and my friend showed me the paper. You and Tony Stark? Is that true? I know they can make pictures up to look like whatever they want.”

“It’s true. It was a secret. It was supposed to stay a secret. I don’t know how they found out. They’re outside my door. I could barely get into my apartment building.”

“He’s married, Peter. How could you!”

“He said he was going to leave her. He said he loved me.”

May sighed. “Sweetie, they don’t ever leave their wives, you know that. Men like Tony Stark… he buys and sells people like they were nothing.”

“He isn’t like that, May. He… he was going to leave her. He had a plan and everything. It was just going to take time. He loves me and I love him.” He sniffled and tried to stop crying. “Are you okay? They haven’t bothered you, have they?”

“I’ve had some calls but I hung up on them. But no one’s been here at the apartment though. Not like your place. The internet has the story already. I saw your picture trying to get into your building.” She paused. “Is it true he pays for your rent?”

“Y-y-yeah.” He was sniffling again. “And my tuition and everything else.”

“So you don’t have a job like you told me.”

“I used to. When I told you, I was an intern at Stark Industries, that was true. But it only lasted a few months before Tony and I… I’m sorry May. I didn’t want to lie to you, but it had to be a secret. He couldn’t have anyone knowing.” He started crying again. “Now everybody knows. And he isn’t calling me back.”

“Peter, even if everything you said is true, that he loves you and was going to leave his wife, he can’t call you right now. If… I don’t even know how to explain this to you… you’re young. You don’t know what it’s like to be married.”

“Not you and Ben… that never happened between you, did it?” Peter sounded afraid.

“No, no. Neither of us were like that. But you hear about it from friends. There are friends I have at the hospital whose husbands cheated on them. It’s… messy. It’s complicated. And that’s without being famous and the press hounding them all the time. This can’t be easy for his wife. Think about her. I don’t mean to be harsh, sweetie, but you just ruined her life.”

“I’m not the first affair he’s had,” Peter said defensively.

“But you’re the one he got caught with. And the only man.”

“Not even that.”

“Okay. But you’re the one she can’t deny or push under the carpet or pretend she doesn’t know about.”

“I don’t care about her,” Peter said angrily.

“That’s obvious,” May said, with a little anger of her own.

“It’s not my fault.”

“Whose is it? You knew he was married. The whole world knows he’s married. Sure, it took both of you, but you didn’t have to say yes. How long has this been going on?”

“About a year and a half.”

“Peter!”

“We’re in love. He doesn’t love her. He hasn’t loved her for a long time. Even before me.”

“I can believe that man has no morals, but you? I thought…”

“I’m in love with him,” Peter interrupted her. “That’s all I know. I’m in love with him.” Peter was sobbing. “You don’t know him like I do. Nobody does. He’s different when he’s with me.”

“Well, I’m not going to talk to anyone about it. I didn’t know anything and obviously, I still don’t know anything. I thought I knew you but…”

“You do. You just don’t get it. We fell in love. That’s not something you can control.”

“But you can control acting on it. I’m sorry you’re in the mess you’re in, but it’s a mess you made for yourself. You have to think of the other people whose lives you ruined by choosing to sleep with a married man.”

~~~~~

It was after midnight before Tony’s ringtone played on Peter’s phone. “Tony?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yeah baby. I’m so sorry. I should’ve known… I never meant for you to be caught up in this. The damn fucking reporters follow me everywhere.”

“Are you okay?”

“I will be. Like was going to happen with my plan, I’m gonna take a hell of a hit to the pocket by the prenup. She insisted on a cheating clause, knowing my lack of ability to keep it in my pants. But she never would’ve pulled that trigger unless something went public.”

“But you can manage that, right?”

“It’s not gonna send me to the poorhouse, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not. You know I don’t love you for your money. I hope you do.”

“I know baby. Bad joke. Sorry.”

“Are you still at home?”

“Nope. I mean, it’s still going to be my home once the separation’s over and done with. The building belongs to the company and the company belongs to me. I’ll need to buy out her share of the penthouse, but that’s not a problem. It was just prudent that I be the one to leave right now. Give her time to cool down, let the lawyers hash things out.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d call.” He paused. “Ever.”

“Really? Doubt me that much?”

Peter sighed heavily. “Things don’t usually work out well for the ‘other woman’.”

“Yeah, but the guy usually isn’t in love with the ‘other woman’. I love you.”

“Still? Even though…” He sighed again. “The other woman turned out to be the other man?”

“It’s kind of a relief, actually. I mean, yeah, life is gonna be hard for awhile, but then we can be together.”

“You still want that?”

“You still want me?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, Tony. I’m kind of in love with you.” He paused, twirling the fringe on his bedspread in his fingers. “My aunt kinda hates me.”

“I’m sorry. The whole homewrecker thing?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. She doesn’t understand.”

“It doesn’t help that the papers are… fucking ruthless. But what’s done is done. No putting this genie back in his closet,” he laughed wryly.

“I’m sorry Tony.”

“Not your fault baby. It just never happened before because I never stayed with the same person for more than a few nights. After a year and a half, my habits got picked up on. Traveling to the same place on a regular schedule. Someone was bound to catch me sooner or later.”

“So what’s gonna happen now?” Peter asked.

“Well, I could always have Happy drive by and pick you up to bring you to my suite at the Plaza.”

“What‽”

Tony chuckled. “Not like we have to keep it a secret anymore. Not like the whole world doesn’t know I’m into guys after today’s headlines. Not like she can sue me twice for cheating on her. The only question is how much heat are you willing to bear to be with me. Because it’s gonna get really hot for you, baby. They’re gonna dig out every nasty word in the thesaurus and print them.”

“Do I get to be with you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Let them print,” Peter said with fierce determination. “I’ll send them a list in case their thesaurus isn’t complete.”

#starker #Von writes stuff #starker-stories formerly starkestories

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acciotonystank · 4 years

Text

I Can’t Change (Even If I Tried)

Read on AO3

“Hey, Mr Stark, you’re right-handed aren’t you?”

Tony glanced up front he repulsor he was working on to look at Peter, who was sitting at his desk in the lab, watching Tony with an unreadable expression on his face, waiting for his reply.

“Uh, yeah, kid. Why’s that?”

Peter glanced down at his hands and bit his lip in thought. “Most people are.”

“About ninety percent, I think,” Tony nodded. He wasn’t sure what was going through his head, but he knew that Peter was going somewhere with this, that he’d just have to be patient.

“But the rest aren’t all left-handed. There’s some that are… ambidextrous, or- or even dextrous with their feet as well and stuff. And then there’s people that- that don’t have hands.” The last part came out like a question, as though he wasn’t really sure of what he was saying.

“Sure, bud.”

“And a lot of right-handed people think left-handed people are weird, and a lot of things aren’t set up for left-handed people. Like scissors and stuff. It’s like the default is right-handed. And ambidextrous people can usually get around that because they can use their right hand, but some people have varying levels of dexterity and if they’re more left-dominant then it’d still be annoying.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it, but yeah,” he shrugged.

“But the thing is, some people find ambidextrous less weird because they can at least use their right hand, but some find them more weird because how can you use both, right?”

Tony just nodded. Peter still wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were somewhere in the distance, lost in his head.

“So you’re not ambidextrous at all?”

Tony tilted his head in thought. “Well, I mean, there’s some things I prefer to do with my left hand in regards to tools and stuff, but usually that’s because I need my right hand for whatever else I’m holding. It’s definitely dominant, if that’s what you mean.”

Peter’s gaze shifted to look at Tony, and stared at him searchingly for a moment. “Do you think people who are ambidextrous are weird?”

Tony was beginning to grow impatient with the weird questions and just wanted Peter to get to the point. Nonetheless, he gave Pete a small smile and answered calmly, “No. I’d actually find it really helpful being dominant in both.”

“But then some people would think you’re weird.”

“I mean… it’s really not that weird.” he replied in confusion. “Besides, I don’t think people care all that much about hand dexterity.”

Peter let out a small huff of frustration and tugged at his hair. Tony frowned, stood up to move around the desks and planted himself into the chair directly opposite him. “What’s going on, Underoos? What’s with all the weird questions? I thought you were right-handed?”

“I am.”

Tony wanted to scream. “So… what’s going through your head then? Why the sudden interest in hands?”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek and stared down at the pen he was fiddling with in contemplation. The seconds dragged on, but eventually he let out a heavy sigh and met Tony’s eyes.

“I’m bi.”

Tony blinked. “Oh. Oh. That’s what all that was about? Kid, that was cryptic as fuck.”

Peter looked away sheepishly. “Sorry, I just find it easier to explain myself with analogies sometimes, but that… that probably wasn’t the best analogy.”

“God, kiddo, don’t apologise. And no, that was great, I was just confused,” he let out a laugh.

“Although I’m still confused about the foot dexterity and the no hands thing.”

“Just ignore that,” Peter muttered. “I was trying to- never mind.”

“So… bi, huh?” Tony knew he was being awkward as fuck, but he wan’t sure how to react because he didn’t give a shit who Peter was into, as long as he was happy. He wasn’t sure if Peter wanted him to make it a big deal or if that was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He didn’t know if he was supposed to give the spiel about accepting him no matter what or if that would just make Peter wonder why he wouldn’t.

Peter just nodded, a very slight blush dusting his cheeks.

“How long have you known?”

“Um, like two years?”

“Who else knows?”

Peter bit his lip. “I told May last week.”

Tony raised his eyebrows in shock. “You’ve had this secret for two years? Oh, kid.”

“It’s not- it’s not what you think,” he shook his head quickly, his expression changing to a resolved confidence. “I knew that May wouldn’t care, neither would any of my friends and I knew that you wouldn’t either. I just… I actually kind of liked it? Being a secret, that is. It was mine, you know? And no one else’s. It felt like it was something I owned and I had full control of. And- and I’m comfortable with it. I wasn’t initially… but I am now and because of that and the knowledge that the people I care about wouldn’t care, I kind of felt out of the closet, even if I’m wasn't... is this making any sense?”

Tony could tell that Peter was frustrated with himself at not being able to express what he was trying to say, but he was pretty sure he got what he was trying to get across. He leant his elbows on the desk and offered him a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, Pete, I think so. But… if you knew I’d be okay with it, why did you ask if I thought ambidextrous people are weird?”

“Well, deep down I knew, but ‘cause it’d been a secret for so long I was pretty nervous about letting it go and… I had to make sure.”

“That’s understandable,” Tony said slowly. “You don’t have to answer this but… what did you mean you weren’t initially comfortable with it? For how long?”

“Uh… probably about the first five months or so after I realised, I hated it,” Peter admitted, wringing is hands together. “I still don’t exactly know why, because May isn’t homophobic at all or anything like that, and I knew there wasn’t anything wrong with it. I just… I felt like a stranger to myself? Because I spent the first fifteen years of my life with a certain perception of myself and then when I realised I was bi, it felt like everything had changed. And it hadn’t - it’s just a part of me, it doesn’t define me. But I was still angry because even though I knew everyone I care about would accept me, I knew that other people wouldn’t. And I guess I was scared of what it would mean for me, in terms of how others saw me and… and I’ve always wanted a family, Mr Stark. But if I fell in love with a guy, then…”

“You can still have a family,” Tony frowned. “Even if you have a kid that isn’t yours, it doesn’t make them any less your child.”

Yikes, that was a little too real.

“I know that now,” Peter nodded calmly, before smiling. “And in any case, I don’t need to worry about that ‘cause I’m gonna die alone.”

“Pete,” Tony groaned. “We talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘no more self-deprecating jokes’, but it’s part of my brand, Mr Stark.”

He just looked at him incredulously.

“Besides, like you can talk.”

“Hey, I balance it out with arrogance and narcissism.” Tony defended, leaning back to fold his arms over his chest. “I don’t think I’ve heard you compliment yourself once.”

“Yeah, well, moving on - one day I just kind of embraced it. You’d think it would be gradual but one day I just had this epiphany and I was like ‘I’m bi and ready to die and that’s fine’.”

“Yeah, the first part.”

“Casual suicidal comments are also part of my brand.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Peter just shot him an innocent smile.

“If you’ve kept this a secret for so long, can I ask, why now?”

“I guess I was just getting sick of it. I don’t want to watch what I say anymore and… I want to be able to talk about… that stuff.”

The thought of Peter talking to Tony about his love life - the he would feel comfortable discussing that with him brought a weird sense of warmth in his chest. Peter wasn’t his - not by a long shot. But he had come to accept the fact that he was Peter’s, that he would do anything in his power to protect the boy that he considered a son. Not that he would tell Peter that, though. He didn’t want to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, and he knew he was just a mentor. Which is why is surprised him so much to hear Peter imply that he would share that sort of personal information with him. It was too… parental and he wondered if he had completely misread their relationship. His shock must have shown on his face because Peter, obviously taking it the wrong way, blushed and nervously ducked his head.

“To- to May. You don’t- you don’t have to hear about th-that.”

“No, that’s not…” Tony let out a small sigh. “Kid, it’s not that I don’t want to hear about your love life, I’m just surprised that you would want to talk to me about it.”

Peter blinked in surprise and looked up at him. “O-oh. Okay then.”

He had that contemplative look on his face again and Tony leant forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Is there something you wanna tell me, Underoos?”

The immediate blush that came over the boy’s face answered his question and his lips quirked up in amusement. “I, uh… I may have a date this weekend,” he mumbled.

Tony grinned broadly. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Peter shrugged, clearly attempting to be casual about it, but failing miserably. He was over the moon and it was adorably obvious.

“Look at you, all grown up. What’s their name?”

“I’m not telling you, otherwise you’ll just look him up,” he argued.

“Aha, so it’s a him. That narrows down the search.”

Peter’s eyes twinkled as he laughed. “There’s a lot of people in New York City, Mr Stark, that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Well, at least now I know they live in New York,” Tony pointed out.

“And like I just said, there’s a lot of people that live here.”

“A lot less that go to your school.”

“I never said he goes to my school!”

“Yeah, but you don’t really do much except come here and go to school and given that defensive reaction, I think it’s safe to say he does. And given your limited social skills, I’d have to assume that you met him in one of your classes, so I just need to pull up your-“

“Oh my god, Mr Stark, stop!” Peter groaned, slamming his head down on the desk.

Tony just laughed and ruffled his hair. “I’m only teasing you, kiddo - it’s fun. But in all seriousness, you gotta tell me where you’re going and text me every hour so I know he hasn’t hurt you.”

“No! Knowing you, you’ll put on a disguise and stalk us.”

“I would not!” he argued, but Peter just looked at him. “Fine, but at least text me every hour so I know you’re okay, alright? And I know you don’t want to hurt people but if he starts get handsy-“

“Mr Stark!” Peter wailed in protest, burying his face in his hands. “Fine, I’ll text you, but you gotta swear you won’t track me.”

“Ugh, fine,” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “But you gotta agree that you’ll call me when you get home and give me all the details. Well… not all the details if things get-“

“Please shut up.”

“Yep, okay.”

Peter continued to glare at him, but it didn’t last long and an excited smile gradually took over. “I’m going on a date,” he breathed.

“Yeah, you are, Mr I’m-going-to-die-alone,” Tony grinned, only for his face to fall slightly as panic took over Peter’s.

“Oh shit, what am I gonna wear?!”

“Alright, calm down, look who you’re talking to.”

“Oh god, I don’t know how talk to people, this is going to be a disaster!”

Peter was beginning to spiral, so Tony quickly grabbed his shoulders and shook them gently.

“Kiddo, relax, you’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“Nobody wants that,” he moaned.

Tony grimaced and jabbed Peter harshly in the chest.

“Ow! What the hell, man?”

“Cut that out right now. He said yes, didn’t he?”

“Well… I did. He asked me.”

“There you go, he asked you. He wants to take you on a date.”

Peter slumped over the desk, crossed his arms on the surface and rested his chin on them, looking up at Tony thoughtfully. “I don’t wanna mess this up.”

The man gave him a soft smile and ruffled his hair again. “Being yourself landed you this date and it’s gonna carry you through it.”

The corners of his lips twitched and he sat up. “Thanks, Mr Stark. You know, this is not where I thought this conversation would go.”

“What did you think would happen?” Tony frowned.

“I was pretty confident I’d chicken out, to be honest.”

He rolled his eyes but looked at the teenager fondly. “I’m glad you didn’t, bud.”

“Yeah… me too.”

#peter parker #tony stark #iron dad #irondad and spiderson #irondad fanfiction #coming out #bisexual peter parker

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ilovereadingandilovebreathing · 4 years

Text

Febufluff(whump) Day 9: Sick Day (& Creators Choice)

A/N: I’m always a slut for the Terror Twins, a.k.a. Harley & Peter, being best friends (sorry, Ned.) A universe in which Harley bugged the absolute hell out of Tony until he let Harley live with him and go to Midtown. Definitely softened by Peter.

Summary: Harley gets sick. Tony & Pepper are away, so naturally, Peter has to come help.

WARNINGS for food poisoning, talk and some descriptions of vomiting/gagging, etc.

Peter is busily scribbling away at his latest AP Language assignment when his phone buzzes multiple times in quick succession, “Hardly Queener” lighting up his phone screen.

Peter

Peter help me

SAVE ME

FACETIME ME NOW

Hardly Queener would like to FaceTime...

Peter rolls his eyes and answers; Harley’s forehead fills the screen, a muffled groan filling Peter’s ears instantly.

Peter chuckles humorlessly. “What’s up?”

“I’m d y i n g.” Harley groans loudly and looks up just enough for his eyes to be visible.

“You’re dramatic.”

“You’re homophobic.”

“You’re bisexual, Harley.”

“Shut up.” Harley buries his face in his covers.

“Sure, I’ll hang up-”

“NO.”

Peter sighs. “Why did you text bomb me and insist on FaceTiming?”

Harley barks out a few rough coughs. “Can you not HEAR the phlegmy evil that plagues my lungs?”

“So you’re sick. You weren’t sick at school today.”

“Not showing it, anyway.”

“Why didn’t you stay home if you felt bad?”

“Didn’t hit me until 6th period.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

Harley groans again and lets his phone fall on the bed. “You’re no fun.”

“Yeah, I’m a real stickler.”

“Oh my god. Maybe it’d be better to be alone than to deal with your rancid cheese.”

“Oh yeah, Tony and Pepper are gone this weekend, huh?”

“Yeah.” Harley rolls onto his side and props the phone up against a pillow.

“But, like, you’re not alone at the Tower, right?”

“I mean, security is here, but hell if I’m getting any of them to go get me food.”

“Door Dash and Grub Hub exist.”

“Yeah, but they’re overpriced.”

“You live with a billionaire, Harley.”

“Mama raised a Frugal Hoosier.”

Peter sighs.

“So I’m guessing all of this is because you want me to come over?”

“Maybe.”

Peter looks at his phone. “I’m leaving for patrol soon. I’ll come over after?”

“Fine. Leave me to wither alone.” Harley grumbles into his comforter.

“You’re fine. It’ll pass soon. Time to go help the helpless. Adios!”

“Bye.”

Peter clicks off of the call and clicks open his Spider suit unit. He does feel a little guilty for leaving Harley all alone when he’s not feeling well, but he seems fine enough to Peter, if not a little glassy-eyed and flushed. He supposes he can make it up to his friend by bringing something by that night, and resolves to do so as he swings out his window and into the night.

-------

It’s 9:03PM when Peter latches onto the outside of the Tower, feeling a little guilty for leaving his patrol early but proud at how much he got done in a few hours.

Peter crawls up to Harley’s window and taps on the glass, frowning when a few moments pass without movement or a reply. “Harley?” Peter knocks again. “Hey, Karen? Can you patch me through to FRIDAY?”

“Sure. Connecting Peter Parker to Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth.”

“Hello, Peter.”

“Hey, FRI. Where’s Harley?”

“Just a moment. Harley Keener is in the west lavatory on the top floor. He seems to be in distress.”

“Does Tony know?”

“He insisted that I did not tell Boss, and the request does not violate known protocols.”

“That’s hard to believe.” Peter has crawled to Harley’s bathroom window by now and knocks lightly on the window pane. “Hey, Harls?”

There’s a muffled grunt and shuffling like socked feet on tile before the window slides open. “Don’t call me that. Too close to what I just did.”

Harley moves aside for Peter to climb through the window. The healthy teen looks his friend up and down. “Aw, man.”

“I know. I look incredible for a guy who just puked his guts out, right?”

“Not exactly.” Peter cringes at how pale Harley’s face is, sweat beading on his forehead and eyes red-rimmed and glassy. “How long you been at it?”

“On and off for the last 3 hours or so. It’s really just been dry heaving lately. Sucks ass.”

“I can imagine. Do you know if anyone else is sick?”

“Ned and MJ are fine. I’m thinking food poisoning, honestly.”

“For real?” Peter quirks a brow and lays a hand over Harley’s forehead; it’s sweaty but not warm. “Tony buys pretty high quality food.”

“I brought some leftover Panda Express from like...”

Peter swallows. “I don’t wanna know.”

“I don’t want to think about it, honestly.” Harley swallows thickly.

“You good?”

“I dunno. It’s always a surpri-” Harley coughs and trips back to the toilet.

Peter grimaces in sympathy before following carefully behind him; he comes up behind Harley. “I’m here. Whatever you need.” He sits behind Harley and places a hand on his back.

Harley finishes dry heaving and leans heavily against the toilet as Peter lightly rubs his back.

“You wanna get out of here?”

“Hasn’t been long enough yet.”

“I’m gonna go change out of this. Be right back.” Peter slips out of the bathroom and quickly heads toward the guest room reserved for him. “Hey, FRI?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“Can you order some stuff for me?”

“Sure.”

Peter pulls out a t-shirt and sweatpants, quickly slipping into the clothes. “Does Target deliver around here?”

“With the SmartPhone Application.”

“That works. Let security know?”

“Alerting Harold Hogan, as well as Gregory Stevens, presently at the security desk.”

“Thanks, FRI.”

“Of course, Peter. What would you like to order?”

Peter leaves his room and crosses to Harley’s.

“Saltines if we don’t have them.” Peter rummages around in Harley’s drawers for something more comfortable than his sweat-soaked jeans and hoodie while listing off the sick day (or night, now) necessities. “Schweppes Ginger Ale. Plain wheat bread, none of the ones with flakes or nuts or anything. Applesauce. Tums. PeptoBismol, tablets and liquid stuff. And a whole case of water bottles.”

“Got it.”

“Thanks, FRI. Let me know when it’ll be here.”

“Absolutely.”

Peter is back at the bathroom now and taps lightly on the door before entering. Any other day, he would have laughed at the now-stripped Harley, sitting in only a white t-shirt and his boxers, but his friend looks miserable as he sits propped against the bathtub, breathing hard with his eyes scrunched closed and a hand around his abdomen.

“Almost empty?” Peter mutters and taps Harley’s foot with his.

Harley cracks an eye and scrunches up his nose. “Maybe. Can’t tell if my stomach actually hurts or if being doubled over like this is habit now.”

“You wanna change clothes?”

“Why not.”

Peter turns around as Harley pushes himself up and struggles to change into fresh boxers.

“I’m covered.”

Peter turns back around and clenches his jaw at how exhausted Harley looks. “Here.” Peter unfolds the new t-shirt and kneels, laying it beside him before reaching out to pull up the sides of Harley’s soaked shirt. Normally, Harley would protest and bat Peter’s hands away or make a joke about Peter seducing him, but now Harley is pliable as he slowly raises his arms, allowing Peter to gently dress him. Peter cradles his feet as he slides the sweats on but allows Harley to finish the job.

“Feel better?”

“A little.” Harley mumbles. “Damn jeans were chafing me from all the damn sweat.”

“I’m sorry, but at least you’re comfy now.”

“This sucks ass.”

Peter sits next to Harley, and the blond drops his head onto Peter’s shoulder. Peter wraps an arm around Harley’s shoulder, and the boy slumps heavily against him at the confirmed invitation. Harley lets out a deep sigh.

They sit like that for a little while, until Peter’s butt and legs start to tingle, and he’s wondering if Harley has dozed off.

“Peter?”

“Yes, FRI?”

“Your delivery items have arrived.”

“Your what?” Harley mutters, hardly audible through his heavy lips.

“Thanks, FRI.”

“Mr. Stevens is bringing the items up.”

“Have him leave them in the kitchen, please.”

“Got it.”

“What’d you order?”

“Everything to make you feel better. You feel up to finding out?”

Harley considers for a moment before lifting his head slowly. He stares across the room for a moment before closing his eyes and nodding.

Peter rises and holds his hands out for Harley to take; he easily pulls the boy to his feet but moves slowly to be conscientious of Harley’s state.

The boy stands unsteadily for a moment before grabbing on to the vanity counter. “Guess I don’t quite have my sea legs yet.” Harley jokes dryly.

“Here.” Peter turns around and gestures. “I can carry you.”

“Geez, Parker, I’m not totally out of commission. What if I get motion sick or something?”

“I’ll be careful. Better to get it over with.”

Harley huffs before wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck; he lifts one leg which Peter easily takes and hoists up the other, settling against Peter’s back with a grunt.

“Where to?”

“Bedroom is closest.”

It’s a little awkward logistically because of the inches Harley has on Peter, but Peter manages his weight easily. Peter walks steadily into the living room, Harley’s hot, stale breath on his neck making him a little queasy, and stops before carefully depositing the boy on the bed.

“FRIDAY?” Harley croaks out pitifully. “Fan.”

“Of course.”

Harley groans in relief and curls up on top of his covers.

“I’ll be right back.”

Harley grunts in reply as Peter heads out into the kitchen and quickly returns with his spoils and a small stack of bowls and a cup.

“Feel like eating anything?”

“Maybe in a little bit.” Harley’s voice is a whisper as he pries open an eye. “What you have?”

“Crackers, of course, Ginger Ale. Applesauce. Pepto and Tums if you need them. And lots of water.”

“You really are a mother hen, Parker.”

“Only for you, Keener.”

“Don’t tell Ned.”

“He knows nothing can outdo our sacred bromance.”

“We’re cutting it pretty close here.”

“What sounds edible?”

“Water and Tums for now. I’ll let you know about the other stuff.”

Peter helps Harley sit up to chew on a few of the antacid tablets and sip some water before he collapses again.

“Scoot.” Peter nudges Harley, and the latter raises a brow. “I’m not going back home. I already texted May; I’m staying with you until Tony and Pepper get back tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Harley pulls himself over and Peter settles against the bed’s headboard with his ankles crossed. Harley’s head is against his thigh, and he carefully rests his hand there. Harley doesn’t protest, so Peter slowly moves his fingers through Harley’s hair, like May does for him when he doesn’t feel well.

They sit in silence for a moment. “Did you tell him?”

“Not yet.”

Harley groans. “Don’t.”

“Why’d you tell FRIDAY not to?”

“Didn’t want him to worry. You know he’s a worrier. Worse than you.” Harley sighs and looks up between Peter and his stomach. Peter nods and Harley scoots up, resting his head on Peter’s stomach, the latter’s hand still running ministrations through his hair.

“Wanna watch anything?” Peter whispers.

“Mmmm nothing I actually have to watch.” Harley replies, eyes closed lightly for sleep instead of clenched in pain. Finally, progress.

“Hmm....Disney?”

“Whatever.”

“Finding Nemo?”

“Depressing, but sure. Sadie loves it, so I’ve seen it 12,000 times.” Harley yawns through the hyperbolic estimation, and Peter gives a breathy snort.

“Perfect. We love an orphan story.”

“His dad’s alive.”

“I meant me.”

Harley lightly nudges Peter’s leg.

“FRIDAY? TV on...My movies...Finding Nemo.”

They make soft banter throughout the beginning of the movie, Harley’s voice getting quieter as his breaths get heavier, and soon he is dead weight against Peter, his arm having snaked around Peter’s waist to hold him like a beloved stuffed animal.

Peter looks down at Harley’s face, now snuggled into his abdomen, and can’t help the grin on his lips. Harley finally looks at peace, if not hilarious, and Peter can’t resist reaching down for his phone. He jumps when Tony Stark’s contact jumps out at him in a FaceTime request, and quickly gropes around for Harley’s AirPods before popping them in, answering the call, and swiping to his settings.

“Hey-hold on-okay.” Peter settles back in again, one hand holding his phone and the other on Harley’s back, and whispers, “Hey, Mr. Stark.”

“Hey, Squirt.”

“You don’t seem surprised to find me here.”

“We have Find My Friends or whatever set up, remember, kid? Part of the phone upgrade deal.”

“That whole thing was your idea. I told you I didn’t need a new phone.”

“Besides the point. What’s got you all whispery in the Tower?”

“Harley’s asleep.”

“Really? It’s barely past 10.”

“He’s sick.”

“Sick how? How sick? Why didn’t I know?”

“Food poisoning doesn’t align with any of the alert protocols. It’s technically not biologically sick, and it’s not true poisoning.”

“Shocking. No wonder FRIDAY’s been so quiet. That little shit would find a loophole unintentionally.”

Peter rolls his eyes.

“So, how is he?”

“Asleep. Hurled his guts out earlier.”

Tony cringes in sympathy. “Nasty stuff. How’d he get it?”

“Leftover Panda, probably.”

“Dammit, kid. I told him that junk had gone off.”

“Yeah, well, it is Harley.” Peter angles the camera down, and Tony’s eyes turn down at the sides as he studies the slumbering Harley.

“He holding anything down?”

“He’s only had water and Tums. We’ll find out in the morning.”

“If you say so. Let me know if you need anything, okay? Pep and I will be back ASAP tomorrow.”

“Take your time. We’re all good here.”

Tony smiles. “I know. He’s in good hands.” Tony looks past his phone. “Gotta go, Spider-Kid. See you tomorrow.”

“See you. Bye, Mr. Stark.”

Peter sets the phone on the nightstand and slowly reaches down to grab a throw Harley had brought from Rose Hill, a Granny Square pattern his mom had crocheted for him as a gift. A small piece of Tennessee in the middle of the big city. Harley makes a low noise in his throat in protest of the movement, but sighs and holds tighter onto Peter when they settle in again, his nose buried in the front of Peter’s shirt.

“Lights, please, FRIDAY.” The lights dim to a very dim glow, and Peter sighs. “Night, Harls.” Peter whispers with one last ministration over the boy’s back.

“Night...” Harley’s words carry along the air, light and barely there. “Love you, Pete.”

Peter blinks. Harley’s a great friend, loyal, hardworking, and will punch anyone’s teeth in with little need for reason, but affection is low on the list of Harley Keener characteristics. He’s not sure he heard correctly, so he carefully replies, “Love you, too, Harls.”

A ghost of a smile tugs on Harley’s lips and vanishes before Peter can blink, and Peter melts into a grin. Sick Harley is whiny, needy Harley, but also a loving Harley that Peter could get used to.

Peter closes his eyes and starts to doze, his hand still one Harley’s back when the pair wakes in the morning, stiff and sleepy but satisfied at making it through the night.

Harley would chomp down the scrambled eggs Peter makes and poke at him for the weird looks he keeps giving Harley, throwing snowballed napkins when Peter refuses to tell him why.

#febufluff #febufluff 2020 #febuwhump #febuwhump 2020 #irondad #spiderson #mine #spiderbabyfic #harley keener #peter parker #really platonic but if you want to read romantic you probably could but not my thing

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