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saeyoungchoismaid · 4 years

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His Angel

Pairing: Mammon x gn!reader Genre: zombie apocalypse au, fluff, angst Warnings: oH bOi. Mention of zombie blood?, shooting the undead, and hm I feel like I’m forgetting something...oh yeah! ✨Character death✨ Summary: Mammon's birthday started out bad, then became one of the best birthdays he’s ever had, before going to the worst one ever Word Count: 4.3k (aka the longest fic I’ve ever done on this account...I think) A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAMMON!! Big huge giant thanks to @tooruluv for helping me come up with this plot!! A/N at the end. Lmao y’all are going to ✨hate me✨

You look down from your post on the wall to a certain white-haired male that you’ve been staring on and off at the entire time you’ve been on duty. You can’t help it though. He’s been acting strange all day and something just isn’t settling right with you.

“You might as well go check on him if you’re going to continue to be useless.” You look away from the quiet man to your partner for this shift, a pout coming to your lips.

“Check on who? I’m not useless,” you defend quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. He snorts a bit, keeping his gaze on the trees surrounding your camp.

“Yeah, right,” Lucifer responds sarcastically. “Just go before I get annoyed,” he says and lightly shoves at your shoulder. You scoff and go to argue when you realize there’s no point. He is right, after all.

Not that you would tell him that.

“I’m going to go get some grub. Want any?” you reply as you start to crawl down the ladder towards the ground. You see him shake his head, not even sparing you a glance. You always wondered what he was like before all of this happened.

You skip the last two steps and jump onto the ground, your hand resting against the gun in your holster out of habit as you walk towards the fire. “Mind if I sit here?” you ask Mammon, already taking your seat beside him before he can answer. He spares you a glance before looking back to the fire that is starting to slowly die.

“Go for it, angel.” Ever since that day at the barn when you first met, he always calls you that.

“You should probably add more wood to that,” you advise, looking away from the crackling fire to his face. The fire made his bronze skin glow with golden hues. Bronze? Is that the right color to describe his perfect skin? How does he even keep it like that? He barely has any dirt or marks on his flawless face.

“It can go out. I don’t care,” he replies gruffly. That pulls you from your thoughts to focus back on him, and not just his handsome face.

“Would you like to share what’s got you in such a foul mood? You’ve been really quiet all day,” you say softly. When he doesn’t immediately reply, you decide to add on, “I missed your lame jokes and cheesy pick-up lines. Where’s my Mammon at?” You think for a moment you see a blush but then you realize it’s probably just from him sitting so close to the fire.

“It’s my birthday today,” he breathes out, sullen eyes still staring the fire down. Your own eyes widen at that.

“What? Really? Why didn’t you tell anyone?” you ask exasperatedly. You’re surprised that he didn’t go blabbing on about it the past week. He doesn’t seem like the type who wouldn’t want to celebrate.

“It didn’t seem important. I mean, what with the trying to survive thing and all,” he grumbles out, picking up a stick to poke at the fire. You frown at this, slowly scooching closer to him on the log.

“Of course it’s important. Things like birthdays should always be celebrated, especially now. They give people hope,” you reply softly, bringing your hand to soothingly rub at his back. He tenses at first before slowly relaxing against your touch.

“I didn’t think of it like that,” he admits as he finally turns to face you. You smile brightly at him and watch as a small smile comes to his face. “Thanks. I feel better now. I’ve survived almost a whole year of this madness. I should be celebrating,” he agrees with a nod of his head.

You hum and nod your head right back at him, feeling your own smile grow. “Exactly!” You remove your hand from his back and then look to the fire, a random flashback coming to mind. “Do you remember how we met?” you ask in a quiet voice. You hear him hum and go back to poking at the fire.

“How could I forget?” he half-jokes, a hushed laugh escaping him.

Mammon is barely getting air into his lungs with how fast and long he’s been running. Where did the herd even come from? Okay, so maybe, just maybe, he dozed off for a bit but that’s not a crime! He was exhausted!

It was clearly a mistake though.

He almost runs into a tree when he hears a scream nearby. He looks to his side and finds that someone has been caught by a faster part of the herd. He debates on what to do, knowing he should just run. His group will be worried about him.

Just go. Don’t look back.

And that’s when you decide to make eye contact with him and he knows then that he has to help you. He’d be consumed with guilt if he just ran like a coward and left you to fend for yourself.

He hashes and slashes through zombies to reach you, cutting one zombie’s arm clean off when it reaches out for you. As soon as he has the ones closest to you down, he grabs your arm and takes off once again. He can tell you’re barely keeping up but he can’t slow down, not with how close the herd is.

All too soon though, you two are losing stamina and are getting cramps. And almost as if God is real, which Mammon knows by now he’s not, a building appears in the distance. “Just a little further!” he wheezes out, practically dragging you to it. Upon getting closer, he discovers that it’s a barn.

That’ll work.

He lets go of your hand and grabs the barn door, quickly sliding it open. “In, in!” he swiftly ushers, sliding the door behind the two of you. You two climb the ladder to the top of the barn after checking out the bottom, confirming that there was no one, dead or alive. The second story of the barn is the same way.

Once you both find this out, you collapse onto a pile of hay on the second story. You make sure to remain quiet when you hear the grunts and groans of zombies shuffling by the barn. “Wow, we make a great team,” the stranger says softly with a small smile, bringing Mammon’s eyes to you. He stares a little longer than he should but he’s just now noticing how attractive you are.

Maybe God is real?

“What’s your name?” he whispers. Your eyes move to his, your brow raising a bit.

“You first,” you reply just as quietly. Ah, so you’re the suspicious type.

“The name’s Mammon but you can call me your knight in shining armor,” he jokes softly, sending you a wink. He smiles when he sees you snort in response and your body relaxes a bit. Good, you’re not as on edge anymore. Man, he is good.

“Wow, I didn’t think a sense of humor could live through this,” you reply just as playfully. He chuckles in response and brings his gaze out the second-story window of the barn.

“Oh, no, no. My humor is my only good trait. Well, that and my sarcasm. And my jokes. And my puns. And my pick-up lines. Oh, and can’t forget my good looks. Also-” he stops when he hears you laugh quietly beside him, his eyes moving back to you.

And he’s never been happier that he’s still alive than at this moment.

The setting sun has rays of yellow and red shining into the barn, making your skin glow. You have pieces of hay sticking out of your hair and poking through the holes in your clothes. You have dirt and, what he’s assuming is, zombie blood all over you.

He’s never seen anyone more beautiful though.

“I see you’re very humble too,” you tease, bringing him back to reality. What did he say? He can’t remember.

“Oh, but of course,” he replies, playing along and just adding to the joke since he literally can’t remember what he said. You hum and go up on your elbow, facing him as you stick out a hand to him.

“(Y/n),” you say softly, your eyes suddenly leaving his to stare off somewhere else. He beams brighter than the setting sun as he gently clasps your hand in his and shakes it.

“Sorry, I think you’re mispronouncing your name,” he replies, feigning concern.

“What-”

“It’s pronounced ‘angel’,” he explains, smirking as he sends you another wink. You snort and start laughing as you lightly hit his chest.

“God, could you be any worse?” you joke, laying back on your back once more. You two laugh a little longer and it almost feels like a dream to Mammon. He hasn’t genuinely laughed in months.

You two talk until early morning, falling asleep mid-conversation. When you both awake in the morning, you’re pressed into Mammon’s chest, his arm draped over your hip, and your legs tangled together. You two get flustered and move away from each other but he decides then to invite you to join his group, to which you agreed.

Maybe you really are an angel. You might even be his guardian angel.

“It seems like a lifetime ago,” he whispers, fondly remembering your first encounter. You hum and place your head onto his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah it does,” you whisper back. You two fall into a comfortable silence after that, his head eventually falling on top of yours. You two remain like that for a while, long enough for the fire to die, before you slowly pull back.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, noticing that some people were heading to bed. He looks up at you and you could swear at that moment he looked nothing more than a needy kid who just wanted to stay by your side.

“Okay,” he mumbles, trying not to pout but failing miserably. You flash him a smile before quickly walking away from him and the fire pit. Within minutes, you’re back with a shining smile and something in your hands.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Mammon, happy birthday to you,” you sing softly as you retake your seat beside him. His eyes move from yours to the candle in your hands. He then starts cracking up when he sees that the candle is stuck inside a can of ravioli.

His heart grows a size as he watches you sing to him, his chest feeling warm and fuzzy. “Make a wish,” you whisper when you’re done singing. He stares into your eyes for a moment, incredibly happy that he decided to relight the fire while you were gone. You almost look the way you did in the hay with the setting sun on you.

But now, you have a glowing candle in a can of ravioli for him with fireflies glowing behind you. The ‘L’ word suddenly pops into his mind but he makes sure to keep his mouth sealed shut.

He thinks about what he wants to wish for, wanting it to be meaningful instead of something stupid he would normally wish for on his previous birthdays.

“I wish-”

“No! You can’t say it out loud or it won’t come true!” you quickly interrupt, being a tad bit louder than you needed to be. Your voice draws the attention of the group, their annoyed, agitated, or curious looks diminishing when they see the scene in front of them. He laughs at your words, quickly covering his mouth.

You’re just so cute. You’ll kill him before any zombies do.

“Okay, angel, okay,” he relents, bringing his gaze back to the candle. You watch him make his wish, assuming he wishes for there to be a cure or to live for another year to see his next birthday.

He doesn’t though.

He wishes for you to live and prosper, to stay alive and see the end of the apocalypse or at least die of old age. He wishes for you to return his feelings so he can finally kiss you and hold you in his arms. He wishes he would’ve met you under different circumstances. Like you bumping into him in a coffee shop and making him spill coffee all over himself, or at school where he works up the nerve to ask you to prom.

Anything but the nightmare you two live.

You make this nightmare bearable though.

He doesn’t know what he’d do if you weren’t by his side and looking out for him.

He smiles at his wish and then blows at the candle, opening his eyes again when you softly cheer. He watches you take the candle out but before you can hand him the can, the sound of a revving car brings his attention away from you.

He turns his head to Lucifer on the wall, watching his body grow tense as he raises his gun. He starts firing at whatever, or whoever, it is. The rest of the camp instantly grabs and loads their guns, ready to fight. You two just stand from the log when a car forces its way through the wall, leaving a gaping hole behind. It didn’t take you long to see who is inside of the car. Valerius and his gang. They like to call themselves The Red Beetles. Why? None of you have the slightest idea. It’d pretty dumb in your opinion and you’ve made your point of view very obvious to them.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” your enemy announces, referring to himself. You roll your eyes, your gun still very much pointed at him. Diavolo, as your leader, doesn’t allow you to kill another human being—one that’s alive, that is—unless they attack first. Valerius may have just broken the wall but he has not made a serious threat to your lives yet.

When you all remain silent and just continue to stare at him, Valerius sighs and rolls his eyes. “Well, you’re no fun. Have it your way.” He didn’t even try stalling or making any more small talk; he just slams on his horn as he reverses out of the hole in the wall he created.

This is when it dawns on all of you.

“He’s bringing Rotters here!”

“We have to leave before Biters get in!”

Everyone started shouting while grabbing their go bags, running towards the gates you normally keep locked up tight.

It didn’t matter though.

The zombies already have you surrounded and were filtering in through the hole. “Get to the ladder and get on top of the wall!” Diavolo orders. You all clamber to the two ladders you have, one of them being dangerously close to the hole. There’s thirteen of you, so you all knew it’d be faster if some of you went to the ladder closer to the zombies.

You quickly grab Luke’s hand, starting to drag him towards the horde. “(Y/n)! What are you doing? You’re going to get us killed! I don’t want to die!” Luke shouts at you. He knows better than to struggle to get away, knowing it would waste time and that you have a plan. You didn’t have to look at him to know he’s crying.

He sees you as his parent after all, other than Simeon, of course. He trusts you with his life.

You shoot at the zombies closest to the ladder, getting them all in the middle of the foreheads. “Climb!” you shout as you shove him towards the ladder. You didn’t mean to be so rough but you don’t have time to be gentle or worry about it. The others who decided to go to this ladder let him go before them, knowing it’d be wrong and selfish to climb the ladder before a kid who barely knows how to shoot.

The bunch of you at the base keep shooting at the zombies, each of you slowly moving away to climb the ladder. You being you, you let the others go before you. You’ve never been the one to be selfish. How could you be when these people brought you into their group without even knowing you? They’re your family and if need be, you’ll die protecting them.

“(Y/n)! Come on!” you hear a familiar voice scream, instantly recognizing it as Mammon’s voice. It came from above you, meaning he’s already on top of the wall. You glance over at Diavolo who is still on the ground with you.

“Go! They need their leader!” you shout at him, starting to back up towards the ladder. He brings his panicked eyes to you and gives you a quick nod before running to the ladder. You cover him from the ground, seeing zombies fall that you didn’t shoot. Good, the guys on the wall are helping out.

It seemed to be doing nothing though. There are just so many of them and you all only have so many bullets.

“(Y/n)! He’s halfway up! C’mon already!” Mammon screams. By the volume of his voice, you can tell he’s scared, terrified even. You curse when you run out of bullets, shoving your gun back into your holster. You then run back to the ladder, climbing it faster than you ever have before.

Fire suddenly comes from your ankles, making you cry out in pain. You look down to see zombies have swarmed around the ladder, their hands reaching up to scratch at your legs. You kick their hands away, bringing your hands up to the next step before hauling yourself up and away from them.

You pant as you climb, adrenaline making your limb shake. You feel the ladder shake, looking down again to see that they’re all bumping against it, ramming their bodies into it and getting their limbs stuck between the steps with how many of them there are. You quicken your pace, ignoring the ache in your ankles where they scratched you.

“Hurry up, angel! You’re almost there!” Mammon screeches, holding out a hand to help you up. Your reach for his hand, finding that his hand is shaking just as much as yours.

His hand is suddenly getting farther and farther away, wind billowing through your clothes. You see his mouth open but you don’t hear anything. Your back makes a loud crack as you land on the hard ground, making a scream rip from your throat. You can’t move as they all start to move away from the bottom of the ladder and towards where you landed, attention all on you now.

All you hear for a moment is ringing before it clears and you hear Mammon’s voice screaming at the top of his lungs. “No! Stop! Over here! Look! Come this way! Please!” You move your head to see blurry figures shuffling towards you. You blink a couple of times and then bring your eyes to the screaming voices, watching as tears roll down Mammon’s face as he tries to break free from Lucifer’s and Diavolo’s grasp to jump down the wall. Apparently, the zombies took down the other ladder too.

All you can do is smile at him despite your situation. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened to you. You’re just glad it was you and not someone else.

“I love you,” you try to say but it comes out as a whisper. You think he read your lips though because he’s suddenly collapsing to his knees atop of the wall, his whole body shaking.

“Please get up! Run!” he shrieks. Your form is blurred by the tears but he’s grateful that he can’t watch clearly as zombies swarm you and start to claw and bite at your flesh. He can, however, hear your agonizing, excruciating screams that rattle his very bones.

He’ll never be able to forget that sound.

He’ll never forget the way you looked as you lied there staring up at him.

He’ll never forget the candle and ravioli.

He’ll never forget the flirting. The jokes. The puns. The pick-up lines.

He’ll never forget meeting you, laying next to you in the hay, and watching the sunset together.

He won’t forget any of it and that’s what hurts the most.

Mammon screams himself awake, his body covered in a cold sweat and shaking violently. He can barely breathe with how heavy and tight his chest feels, his lungs feeling constricted and squeezed to force their air out.

He flinches when his lights flick on, his eyes moving to the switch to find you in your pajamas, completely frazzled. “Mammon! What happened? Are you okay?” you ask as you scurry into his room and over to him, quickly pulling him into a hug. He stays limp in your hold for a moment before squeezing you to him and starting to sob.

You hold him as he cries, your heart aching for the crying man in your arms. You want to know what happened to make him like this but his wellbeing comes first. You soothingly shush him and whisper sweet nothings in his ear, one hand rubbing his back while the other combs through his hair.

He shakes even when he’s done crying, his eyes feeling heavy from all the crying. “Mammon...do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” you whisper, gently pulling back to look at him. Your heart breaks when you see his red and swollen eyes. He sniffles, or tries to since he’s too stopped up, and then rubs his runny nose with his sleeve. You decide not to point this out, knowing he doesn’t care at the moment.

“I just had a bad dream, angel. (Y/n). Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles before slowly laying back down. You probably would’ve been flustered at the sound of the pet name, if it didn’t seem to be an accident. “You should go back to sleep. It’s late. I’m sorry I woke you up and worried you,” he mutters, brushing his problems off like they don’t matter.

You frown as you stand up from his bed, walking towards the door. His eyes start to water again when you actually get up and leave, his whole body feeling heavy and cold. He wipes at his nose again and holds in any sounds when you turn off the lights.

You leave him in a nightmare and you’re leaving him now.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when you get onto the other side of his bed, his body dipping when you climb onto his mattress. He can barely see you in the dark but he can see your shadow’s outline. He silently watches you pull the covers back and slide your legs in, laying on your side so you’re facing him.

“You matter, Mammon. Your troubles are my troubles,” you reassure, slowly reaching your hand out and clasping his hand in yours. He can’t help but smile a bit at your soft and sweet words. That’s just like you to stay with him and make him feel better. He shouldn’t have doubted you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask again when he doesn’t respond to your previous words. He stays quiet for a minute but you feel his grip tighten on your hand.

“I, um, don’t want to go into too much detail, but...all of us were in the zombie apocalypse and...you died,” he whispers. You scoot closer to him and bring your free hand to gently cup his face.

“Hey, it’s okay. Everyone has nightmares. It wasn’t real though. I’m safe, with you, right here,” you reassure softly, scooting closer and closer to him until you’re pressed to his chest. He buries his face into your neck, his body still shaking a bit.

“I know. It just felt so real, and I-” Your brows furrow when he stops, trying to pull back to look at him but he holds you tightly against him.

“Mammon?” you call against his chest, your hands rubbing his back and chest.

“I love you,” he blurts. You both go as still as statues, both of your hearts pounding now. Mammon tries to keep you against his chest but you manage to pull away to stare up at him.

“What?” you blurt, your brain still trying to process those three words.

“Ah, sorry. I just, um, didn’t get to tell you in my dream—nightmare. I just...I wanted to be able to tell you before it was too late again,” he says so softly that you would’ve missed it if your faces weren’t inches away from each other. His eyes widen when he sees you smile, his face starting to heat up.

“Well-” he starts.

He doesn’t even get a chance to take it back, to reassure you that you don’t have to say it back, to come up with a lie as to why he said it or that he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t say anything with the way your lips are passionately pressed against his.

He lets out a whimper as he returns it, squeezing you tightly as he kisses you like it’ll be the last time he gets to. His tongue is quick to slide against your lips and slip into your mouth, a happy hum escaping him. You two stay like that for a while, sharing a heated kiss until you are forced to pull away to get air into your desperate lungs.

You two pant for air as you stare into each other’s eyes, there being just enough light in the room to do so. “I love you too, birthday boy,” you say between pants. He grins from ear to ear before crushing you to his chest for a hug.

“I love you, angel. I’m so in love with you. I love you with everything I am, that I will be,” he rushes out, wanting to get it out before he chickens out and gets too embarrassed. You giggle as you place kisses along his chest and work up his neck to his jaw before finding his lips.

“Okay. I love you too. No more playing zombie games with Levi before bed though.”

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A/N: Yes I made a The Arcana reference. It’s so funny because I wanted to do an apocalypse au because where I live there have been a lot of forest/field/etc fires so the sky has been yellow and smokey all day every day and then in his birthday event he said that he and Levi played a zombie game and I was like OH MY GOSH WOAH. Lmao I hope you enjoyed and you don’t hate me because ily

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starkergames · 4 years

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Title: New Years Artists: @lilsoshie (Sketch), @iammagicfishhook (Lineart), @marveling-marvelous (Color) Writer: @darker-soft-starker The years will change and people will change as much as they stay the same. Some changes though, Tony finds, he really doesn’t mind.

Fic below the cut

Some things never change.

Like, being riddled with nerves whilst attending big events.

Or, the little ticks he’s adopted to mitigate the uneasiness, like bouncing his leg up and down, firing off questions to anyone in earshot like, do you think they’ll have sushi at this thing, I have a craving.

Or Pepper singing along to whatever is playing on the car ride over, and Morgan answering his inane questions with things like, ew, sushi.

Some things do change, though.

Like, coming back to life after five years of being dead.

Or being delegated to the backseat next to his daughter, despite the honourable resurrection. Or having his wife remarry in the years following his death.

You know, typical resurrection things, like realizing that the entire world and everyone you knew has changed.

Tony’s got a thing about control. Always has. He likes to know, has to know, all of the variables. He thought he knew all of them before he snapped his fingers and prayed to the stones in his gauntlet.

Here’s the thing about infinity stones: they’re sentient. They like balance.

They’re also assholes with a perverted sense of symmetry.

Somehow, perfect balance and perfect symmetry translated into bringing Tony back to life after five years. Or, being suspended in the ether that was neither life, nor death, the holding cell between worlds.

That was the airy-fairy, hand-wavey way that Strange explained to him. Sparkles and mystery. But Tony doesn’t remember any of it. The not being alive. One moment his heart was giving out, the next he was clawing himself out of the earth.

That was pleasant.

Emerging dirty and naked to find he’d missed five years of his life was also a barrel of laughs. Missing five years of his daughters growth, finding out his wife had moved on? Hilarious. Best cosmic joke to have happened to him yet.

Though, Tony supposes this is how the recovered Snap victims felt, after. Chasing and chasing the years that were missed, feeling as if they will never be completely caught up.

But that was months ago, his resurrection. Reawakening. Whatever. Seven months and three and a half weeks, if he’s counting. He’d say he isn’t, but he definitely is.

He’d used the time mostly caught up on the life of his friends and family, shed his tears. He’s lamented Steve, grieved over Natasha all over again. Wondered why the divine equilibrium didn’t include her sacrifice.

But he’s learned to be okay. He’s living back at the re-built compound with Clint and Wanda and the old-new crowd of super-people that populate the place he used to call home.

He doesn’t don the suit, hasn’t since he came back, worried that the moment he activates the housing unit that it will all be over, and Morgan will lose her father for the second time.

He’s a consultant, now, for the new team. Financier. Benefactor. It’s very boring.

“You sure you want to go to this thing,” Tony says again, stretching his legs so his knees hit the driver's seat in front of him, where Peppers’ new husband sits. “You don’t want a quiet one at home? Ring in New Years with the llamas?”

“Morgan wants to go,” Pepper repeats, peering back to smile at her daughter. “Right, sweetpea?”

Beside Tony, Morgan looks up from her hand-held video game and nods vehemently, smiling brightly. Tony feels betrayed by her enthusiasm.

“Are they paying you to say that?” he leans in, whispering close to her ear. “You can tell me Morgasboard, name your price. I’ll beat it.”

His daughter flicks her gaze between her mother and Tony. She leans into her father and whispers loud enough for the entire car to hear, “Uncle Peter is going to be there. I haven’t seen him in forever.”

Tony sighs exaggeratedly, nodding along, even though he knows she saw him two weeks ago.

“Forever is a long time,” he agrees.

That was another change that Tony feels weird and wonderful about.

Somehow, in the time that he was six-feet-under, his former protege had become something akin to family to his daughter. Which, if he’s honest, in the years after the Snap, was the goal, the dream as he skipped through time with the Avengers, the proverbial what if that drove him to say yes that one, final time.

Happy families, he’d thought. What else could two wayward orphans hope for?

Tony’s at least glad that Peter got that part of the deal. That Morgan got Peter.

Even if Tony didn’t really have either, after.

“Uncle Peter could go back to the compound or the penthouse with us,” Tony offers, nudging his daughter. “You could ask DUM-E to be your new years kiss.”

“You have a speech scheduled, right, babe?” Peppers husband, Greg, cuts in. He was hired as CFO of SI three years ago and it was heart eyes at first sight, Tony is told. He watches as Greg frees one of his grubby hands from the steering wheel to reach across the console and squeeze her knee.

“Sure do,” Pepper smiles, snaking her hand down to clutch his, squeezing their fingers together.

Tony’s not jealous. No, really. He’s adjusted, he’s over it.

But he’s still Tony Stark, so he’s unapologetically petulant. And it’s Pepper, what kind of ex would he be if he didn’t properly field the prospects of the one woman he truly loved?

Feigning a stretch, he kicks his feet out again and jolts the driver's seat, delight welling up when Greg huffs irritatedly. Morgan giggles as if it’s some kind of game, and all the adults pretend that it is to please her.

The unimpressed stare from his ex-wife caught through the rear-view mirror does little to dampen his satisfaction.

It’s the little wins, Tony thinks, as they pull up to the building, paparazzi huddling around the rope barriers that flank the red carpet, flashes firing through the tinted windows as they come to a stop.

Just because some things change, doesn’t mean he has to.

It’s that mentality that gets him through the dreaded, interminable walk from the car to the ballroom entrance. This is old hat, he tells himself as he waves to the crowd. You could do this with your eyes closed. God, he used to be so good at pretending to care about this kind of crap.

Reporters brandish their network-issued microphones at him, at his family. Fans shoulder against security, all of them yelling out in a cacophony of noise he might call white were it not the sound of his own name, in all of its iterations.

Although he’d rather make a beeline straight to the ballroom he stops and greets a few fans, shakes a few hands, high-fives a few kids. After a slew of signings and selfies the comparatively calm interior of the ballroom is blissfully welcomed. The quartet supplying tunes in the far corner is a reprieve.

So is the way that Pepper clutches Greg’s hand and leads him away at the same time Morgan clutches Tony’s. She looks back and says, be good. Tony doesn’t know if she’s directing it to him or their daughter.

Socialites swan around them, but Tony just looks down at his daughter and smiles. He squeezes her tiny fingers.

“You wanna dance, Morgarita?”

Her serious expression turns gleeful as she drags him to the centre of the room to dance without a shred of shyness.

She’s a lot like she was before he died. Smart and mischievous, cute as a button. But she’s markedly different, caught in that pre-teen phase where she’s gaining modicums of independence. Tony’s getting used to not needing to make all her meals or do her hair for her. He kinda misses it.

Little things. It’s always the little things.

She’s taller now, too. That was a change, to have his daughters head rest against his chest when she hugs him. She’s too tall to be picked up, too proud when Tony offers. So she wraps her arms around his midsection and they sway together on the dancefloor.

Only a few couples are dancing. The night is still young. But, like anything in high society, it’s all smoke and mirrors.

Which means most guests are mingling, telling each other how beautiful and fabulous they are, filling the room with so much re-circulated pomp and hot air the room is practically a hotbox.

Of course it’s a business event as much as it is a philanthropic one, so not even Tony can avoid the inevitable schmoozing that comes along with it. When Morgans tired feet demand a break they seek out seats and snacks - and they too, are sought out.

To his ire, associates come and go like a conveyor belt to shake his hand, politicians and socialites thank him for reversing the Snap, the Blip, the Click, the Dusting, all of the stupid names and his daughter is sitting right there, growing more and more morose at each mention of the worst thing that ever happened to her.

So Tony looks down at his daughter, mid conversation with a senator and says, “Hey, sweet child of mine, wanna go to the dessert table?”

She perks up at that and is off like a rocket to the other side of the room where swathes of mouth-watering sweets are spread over an eighteen foot table.

Tony follows her beeline without saying goodbye to the senator, mentally rubbing his hands together at the grub. He’s sure he will pay for directing his daughter to a trove of sugar and hyperactivity. But desperate times.

Who is he kidding. He’s going to need all the sweet stimulation he can possibly consume to get through this shit-show himself.

When he catches up Morgan already has chocolate smeared on her lips. Fancy desserts perch daintily upon gold lined plates, on tiered stands. Thin streams of velvety, liquid chocolate trickle out of apex fountains, flakes of edible gold cover the setting.

She points excitedly with messy fingers to the ones she wants Tony to try. He should resist, right? He’s really isn’t supposed to eat dairy. That, along with his faulty levels of serotonin, was something the all powerful stones failed to fix. Which was really just plain lazy, if you ask him.

But he spies a flamboyant looking fruit-pastry and thinks, fuck it.

Then he sees a yellow-treat that makes his mouth water and thinks, I can work it off tomorrow.

He reaches over and crams an entire portugese egg tart in his mouth, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk. Morgan laughs, tipping her neck back in unbridled delight.

“Do it again!” she says, bouncing on her feet.

He does. And then again, and again.

Which is how Peter Parker finds him no more than ten minutes later.

“Mr. Stark!”

Tony nearly chokes in his haste to chew and swallow the pastry when Peter swans into view, dressed to the nines and grinning a mile wide. He hears Morgan gasp delightedly beside him, running off to catch up with the younger man while Tony tries not to quietly asphyxiate.

Swallowing roughly, Tony gives him a thumbs up.

Several feet away, Morgan throws her gangly arms around Peter. She buries her head into his chest, just like she does with Tony, brown hair cascading over her shoulders as she embraces him tightly. Peter settles his arms around her neck and leans down to kiss the crown of her head, whispering something to hear that Tony can’t hear.

There’s a weird pang somewhere behind his ribs at the sight.

He swipes his half-empty flute of champagne and downs the remainder in one gulp to cover it.

“Mr. Parker,” Tony greets, rocking on his feet when his daughter and former protege walk back to him hand-in-hand. “Didn’t know you owned a suit in your size.”

The younger man holds his free arm out, twisting it to test the fit. It’s a grey suit with a maroon dress-shirt, tailored to perfection. It looks new.

Peter smiles. The action has creases forming at the corners of his eyes; a small, subtle nod to the years Tony missed. Gone is all of his baby fat, his face angular and defined. He holds himself with more self-assuredness, even now.

He wouldn’t say it aloud, but Peter grew up handsome.

Worse, he grew up to be Tony’s type.

“Oh, this? I didn’t pick it - but it’s nice, right?”

“Yeah. You, uh,” Tony swallows roughly, eyeing the man from head to toe. “You look good. You clean up well, kid.”

Peter rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly at the compliment.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. You - you too. You look... good. Really good.”

Peter meets his gaze, his cheeks a furious shade of pink.

The motion of the room slows as he watches the sparkle reach Peter’s eyes. Everything in his peripherals becomes dull, unfocused. His own heartbeat jackrabbits against his chest and his sure his face is doing something without his permission.

Tony’s throat clicks when he swallows.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, stepping closer.

Now, Tony thinks, staring at Peter’s face, the earnest smile still tugging at his lips. Now is the time he would say something to curdle the mood.

Peter being a full-fledged, rent-paying adult adult is new. Being on an even footing with Tony as a person and a professional is new. There’s so much new about him that Tony still has to learn.

There’s plenty that has stayed the same. His soft-spoken, courteous nature, his ethics.

But Tony can read the unfamiliar in Peter’s posture as much as he does the carefully curated vocabulary, how he stops himself from stammering into subjects he might have stepped into, before. The barely-there lines of age around his eyes, the confident squaring of his shoulders.

And how Tony finds that his imperfect teeth compliment the ever-wayward hairs of his eyebrows - and how all of it, all of Peter, is now somehow charming, rather than awkward.

“How have you been, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shuffling forward

“Good,” Tony says, lips stretching onto the first genuine smile of the night. He’d try to tug those corners down, were it not for the infectious way Peter’s mouth does the same. “You?”

“Good, yeah. Super busy.”

“That’s good. Good to keep busy, as they say.”

“Yeah,” Peter nods. “It is good. Keeping busy. And how are you? -- Wait, shit, sorry, I already asked that.”

“This one keeps me going,” Tony tugs on a lock of Morgan's hair, taking mercy on him. “You been too busy to see the news about Spider-Man? I know you’re a fan.”

Peter steps closer again, clasping his hands behind his back, smiling coyly as those around them perk up in interest.

“Which news?”

“Taking down Kingpins empire. Fisk behind bars.”

“Oh, I think I heard something about that.”

Tony nods.

“What a guy. New York’s never looked cleaner. Although, take that from a guy who hasn’t seen the city for five years.”

“That’s some high praise,” Peter says, wringing his hands together as he nears.

“He’s a hero,” Tony looks to his daughter. With an affirmative nod of dark hair she concurs.

“I think he’s just a regular guy,” Peter huffs, snorting when Morgan giggles knowingly.

Before Tony can inch closer, maybe to do something impulsive like what his hands have been itching to do and grip the lapels of Peter’s suit jacket, the moment is broken by a nearby cry.

“Peter! There you are!”

Sweat beading along his receding hairline, a heavy arm slung over Peter’s shoulders, Otto Octavius swims into view, nodding politely at Tony and Morgan.

“You’re a slippery one, Parker,” he says, shaking Peter’s shoulders. “Been looking for you.”

“Otto, this is --”

“ -- Got some guys that want to meet you,” Octavius interrupts, thick fingers squeezing Peters bicep. He leans in and and whispers in a way Tony is sure is meant to be discreet, “They’re keen to meet the brains behind the project; come say hi.”

Another change Tony never counted on was the trajectory Peter’s life took after his passing.

Peter never went to MIT like Tony had dreamed for him. He went to Empire State University.

Pepper informed Tony that she in fact had reached out prior to his graduation and offered him a position. But Peter had declined. He hadn’t said why, but he’d chosen to work under Otto Octavius at Octavius Industries instead.

One thing that Tony learned in his short time back in the land of the living was that Otto was infamously proud of his new employee and favoured immensely.

It’s what Tony would have wanted for Peter, really. Doing what he loves, being given the respect his intellect and kind heart deserves. He seems to be happy and all grown up. As if Tony needs the reminder.

It’s just that Otto was always an insufferable do-gooder. Save the trees, save the bees. ALl noble notions that Tony agrees with - but Otto is like the human personification of a PETA ad. He’d never been a fan of Tony’s, even after he reformed, literally.

Still, do-gooder or not. There’s something about him. Something that Tony doesn’t like. Just a vibe he has. He’s got good instincts after all of these years and he knows he’s got a solid hunch. There’s something about that man, he knows it.

It’s got nothing to do with the proprietary hand Otto has on Peters shoulder, like the younger man is just a thing to show off. Or how Tony wanted to be the one doing that.

It’s got nothing to do with the way Peter’s suit perfectly fits his frame, or how the maroon and grey compliments his clear, milky skin.

It’s definitely not related to the way Tony’s heart beats just a little bit faster when Peter is in the room.

Yeah.

“Um, I’ll just be a minute,” Peter smiles apologetically at the Starks, eyes softening at Morgans pout. “I won’t be long, you owe me a dance little miss, remember?”

Tony waves dismissively at him, reaching for another flute of champagne from a passing waiters tray. He swallows another generous mouthful, bubbles burning on their way down.

With Morgan munching on a gold flaked cheesecake at his side, Tony watches as the young hero is led away. Otto’s hand on his back, guiding him to make nice with some university hacks. Five years ago Peter would have fumbled through these introductions. He would have gone bright red and blurted some weird factoid to make conversation.

But he’s polished now, Tony watches. Not perfect, but his posture says confident adult, not awkward teenager, like the last time he wore a suit around Tony. This suit really does fit him like a glove. His handshake looks strong, too. Firm.

Were Peter’s hands always that big?

Tony sips his champagne, observing the girth of his former mentee’s fingers. It’s not until he feels the burn of Morgans stare on the side of his face that he breaks his gaze.

“What,” he says.

She points a chocolate covered finger at his face.

“You know how I feel about people holding up one finger at me. If you’re gonna do it, it should be the middle one.”

“You like him.”

Tony huffs, rolling his eyes. “Of course I like him. He’s your Uncle Pete.”

“No, dad, you like like him. You want to be his boyfriend.”

“What -- I do not,” Tony says, casting her an incredulous stare.

“You do. You want to marry him,” she says, scrunching up her face and making kissy noises.

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“I --” he huffs, gesturing to the room at large as his words run away from him. “Do not. I’m the adult. You’re the child. I’m right, you’re wrong. Case closed.”

“Dad.”

“Fine, here,” he fishes out his wallet from his back pocket and slips a crumpled fifty out. He waves it in her face. “Take this and never speak about it again.”

“Can I speak about it to mom?”

He slips out another fifty and hands it to her.

“No.”

She smiles, neatly folding the notes and tucking it into her little bag. Tony stuffs another tart down his throat, knowing he’s been played.

She really is his kid.

----

It’s not that Tony doesn’t know.

He knows.

It’s familiar after decades of experience. That weird feeling he gets. The fluttering of his heart, the topsy-turvy motion in his stomach, were he any younger he might call them butterflies.

He just doesn’t get it.

There’s a lot of things that were jarring when he awoke, soil under his fingernails as he tore through the earth in the desperate search for oxygen. He remembers waking up, confused and naked, body restored to the moment before he snapped his fingers. He remembers stumbling onto a rebuilt compound, unable to speak, learning that the entire world had moved on and changed without him.

With FRIDAY as his guide Tony had seen all of the monuments and the altars in his name, fresh bouquets propped against them, even years after his death. The adoration and the glorification immortalised in murals and statues, in grants in his name, in tell-all books.

They’d even made a shitty movie about his life.

The actor who played him was too short and the woman who played Pepper wore a wig. It was funny. Not like, funny haha, but funny in that uncanny, meta photo-within-a-photo kind of way.

But when Peter had come to the compound that first time and they talked after they both finished crying -- it was different. And every time after, it was different.

It was… awkward. At first, they didn’t know how to be around each other, automatically falling into old molds of mentor and protege. It was almost immediately clear that their old roles weren’t going to work -- too much between them had altered to fit back into the old model.

They needed to recalibrate, and quickly.

Their dynamic did change. If Tony thought about it long enough, innocently enough, he might dare to call it a friendship.

He would, but there was that feeling in his chest. Beat, beat, bang.

It was a work in progress, to reconcile the flutter in his stomach with the Peter now, with the Peter that was, before. A man who had lost all his baby fat, who was old enough to have colourful stories and a wealth of life experience, who had remarkably broad shoulders looked damn good holding a wrench.

It was the hands.

They looked very dexterous. Capable.

But that didn’t stop him from spiraling into deep, existential pockets of despair as he wondered if the stones really thought it was best to revive him so he could actively thirst over someone he used to be responsible for.

Peter is barely fifteen years older than his daughter. He’s lost count how many real and missing years are between them now between death and the Snap. Five a piece.

He can’t tell his road-runner heart if that’s better or worse, though.

But, too high on the adrenaline of seeing Peter, he forgets to tell his body to stop, to remind his stupid heart that this one is not available.

----

Sometime after eleven the gala is in full swing. The mood perks right up in anticipation of the New Year.

Most of the remaining guests are pleasantly tipsy by this point, if not outright drunk. All of the stirring speeches have been made, Peppers included.

Tony tried to listen, however got distracted by - well, anything. But the effort was there. Something about giving and starting the year fresh, clean slates.

The relaxed atmosphere has more couples dancing on the floor. The Mayor and his wife stumble over each other, moguls and A-Listers mingle and take selfies against attractive backdrops.

Even Morgan grew tired of Tony’s ornery approach to the evening, departing with a kiss to his cheek to dance with her mother.

Tony forgets, sometimes. That people expect something of him, something more. Like his resurrection was divine intervention, and if the universe intended him to be here, surely it was for a purpose higher than acting like a morose old man, hiding in the corners of ballrooms.

It’s just. He doesn’t know where his place is anymore.

Norman Osborne stops by to crow about his latest achievements, his contract with the NYPD to provide surveillance towers all over the city. Tony’s seen them. They’re hard to miss.

“Design’s a little archaic, don’t you think? Not very discreet. A pettier man would say you were overcompensating for something.”

He’s not really paying attention as he’s speaking, too distracted by the debacle before him.

Harry Osborn and Peter dance together in the centre of the room, leaned in close to one another and snickering at what the other has said.

They look loose and comfortable around one another, as if they were old friends. Or something else.

Peter leans in close to Harry’s ear to whisper something, the flush on his face creeping down his neck. In one swift movement Tony throws back the rest of his champagne, wishing the liquid would drown him, stomach turning to cement.

Whatever Norman says in response goes unheard.

With the crowd dispersed, Peter catches Tony’s eye and waves exuberantly, nearly hitting Harry in the face.

Tony raises his glass, wincing.

At least some things stay the same.

“They roomed together at ESU,” Norman breaks Tony out of his musings.

Clearing his throat, Tony tries his best to appear indifferent. Why should he care? That’s right, he doesn’t. Not even remotely.

“I see.” Play it cool, he thinks. “They look close, are they —?”

Nailed it.

“No. They tried, but it didn’t work out. Harry’s engaged now.”

“Huh.”

“But Peter is always welcome in our home,” Norman drawls. “He’s like a second son, really. Wasn’t he your protege once?”

Osborn is so smarmy. All at once Tony remembers why he hates this man and his dumb, weathered face. His covetous tone makes Tony want to hurl, or send a suit to the nearest Oscorp building and play rain of fire.

“Good god, imagine if he was your son,” Tony says blithely. “As if you need another one of those to mess up.”

Norman huffs.

“You’re hardly the authority on raising well adjusted children, Stark.”

Ire spears up hot to his throat, but before Tony can deliver a withering reply, he’s interrupted by the arrival of Pepper and Greg.

Morgan trails behind, dragging a laughing Peter with her by hand. She weaves her thin body through the crowd, having pulled the man away from his dance wearing identical grins.

He watches his daughter cut through swathes of the elite in a trail of chiffon, delight clear in the laughter that follows her. Tiny heels clack against the polished ballroom floor, and Peter indulges her mischief, catching Tony’s eye and winking as they near him.

It’s the first time he’s seen his whole family look truly carefree since he came back.

And Tony is where he should be. An inscrutable mass against the beige, peeling wallpaper.

The look of distaste on Normans face as he walks away is enough to dampen some of his churlishness as his family form before him. Pepper makes small talk with Peter and Greg smiles awkwardly at a passing senator. Morgan dives for a profiterole before anyone can stop her.

For a moment Tony feels like he’s in a McDonalds playground instead of an upper-class charity event.

Pepper must have had a hand in choosing Morgans dress, Tony thinks, because it has pockets. And, watching her as the adults talk, she sneaks handfuls of tarts and truffles into the grooves of her dress. Tony wants to laugh, to wink at her conspiratorially at the same time he wants to tuck her into bed, new years or not.

Morgan beckons Peter closer to the sweets table. The younger of the two piling her favourite sampled sweets onto a napkin and thrusts them towards Peter, fervently requesting that he try them, they’re so good, Uncle Peter.

“Not everyone wants dessert for dinner, little miss,” Tony reminds her, swiping a napkin off the table and wiping the melted chocolate off the corner of her mouth.

“I’m not a baby, dad,” she complains, taking the napkin from him.

He forgets that too, sometimes.

Peter smiles between them, delicately plucking a single strawberry off one of the offered miniature flans and popping it into his mouth.

Lust spears through him so suddenly Tony sways on his feet. Fuck.

His daughter and ex-wife are right there.

“Mr. Stark. Would you - uh,” Peter breaks off to swallow audibly. “Would you like to dance?”

Otto is by the bar. Harry, by the French Ambassador. Tony is in his self-made corner of the room, nibbling on vol-au-vents and sashimi to pass the time.

He can smell Peter’s cologne and his sweat when he steps closer and sheepishly offers his hand and Tony’s entire damn body wants to just reach out and interlock their fingers, to pull Peter close and breathe him in. Never has Tony wanted to bury himself in another body before and not come back out, not like this.

Tony would consume all of what Peter had to give, if Peter let him. The offering look in Peter’s eyes say that he would let him.

“I… uh,” Tony begins, searching for a quip to cover his falter. Smiling at his companions, Tony smooths his hand down his tie, pretending the curious looks of concern are just the alcohol. “I need fresh air.”

“Tony --”

“Mr. Stark --”

He waves them off and smiles apologetically at Peter.

“-- I’ll just be a sec. Is it hot in here? Is anyone else hot? I’m like, sweating here, wow. It’s just pooling under the armpits. I’ll just be a minute, excuse me --”

The crowd parts for him like the red sea as he marches through it in search of the nearest door. But he’s never felt less powerful in his entire life.

Or lives, as it were.

----

Outside, the air is blissfully fresh and cold. The rooftop is far less crowded than indoors, only a few patrons lean against the railing, cigarette smoke curling up from their fingers, some in quiet conversation with another.

There’s a carefully constructed pyramid of wide, vintage wine glasses brimming with champagne. He’s careful not to topple the entire thing over when he goes to reach for one. Overheated, even as the winter wind nips at him, he takes his drink and finds a quiet corner to sulk in.

Perching upon a stone bench away far away from the others, Tony tips his head up at the starless sky and huffs.

What the hell does he think he’s doing?

The New York City skyline is alight before him in all its glory, but the memory of how Peter’s face dropped flashes across Tony’s mind on a loop. He looked taken aback. Hurt even.

Shame wells up low in Tony’s stomach and doggedly stays there.

It’s for the best. Right? It has to be for the best. Peter deserves the best and Tony is not that.

It’s not right for him to want to fit himself into Peter’s life when he seems to be happy and successful without Tony - there’s one thing he knows unequivocally about himself is that he would ruin that. Ruin Peter, one of the few good things he has left.

His heart doesn’t get the memo.

Because when he closes his eyes, all he imagines is the way Peter’s firm body would feel against his. What it would feel like to curl together on the sofa, in bed, under the sheets. How his curls would tickle the underside of Tony’s chin, and what it would be like to trace the lines that branch from his eyes when he smiles, or to stroke the narrow slope of his nose as he sleeps.

It’s wrong.

It’s wrong because Tony doesn’t fit there. Not there, nor in all of the places he used to. He’s not Iron Man or a businessman. He’s not a husband or a full-time father. He’s not even Peter Parker's mentor.

What he is, for all of his resurrected glory, is an afterthought. A spectre, hovering in the fringes of all of the places he used to be the centre of.

He smiles, raising his glass to the smoking couple as they nod politely at him.

It’s fine. He’s happy that everyone is happy.

But it’s been months. He ain't Jesus, but surely by now he’d find some sense of purpose.

“Mr. Stark?”

When Tony opens his eyes Peter stands before him, clutching a perspiring glass of wine.

Tony doesn’t want to notice, but he does anyway. The look of concern written on his face is unmistakable, even in the dim lighting of the rooftop, the nearby flamelight serves to deepen the frown lines on his young face.

“Are you alright, Mr. Stark? Sorry to follow you out here, you just seem kind of...”

“Surly?” Tony guess. “I’m fine, kid. Just had a few too many. Didn’t want to hurl all over the drapes. No need to worry.”

“I was gonna say overwhelmed, but yeah,” Peter says, shifting closer until Tony’s bent knees hit the top of Peter’s thighs - his stomach swoops, again. “I’m gonna worry anyway.”

“Yeah, well, happy New Year,” Tony says dryly, knocking their glasses together.

Peter taps his smart-watch with a finger.

“Still got five minutes before that. Can’t break into Auld Lang Syne yet, Mr. Stark.”

“We could if we were in Halifax,” Tony counters. The younger man tilts his head agreeably and Tony calls the easing of tension from Peter’s shoulders a win.

“Let’s stick to New York.”

“Sure,” he agrees. “You don’t have somewhere you’d rather be? You got four-something minutes.”

“Right here, actually, if that’s okay with you.”

Tony doesn’t know if that’s frankness or fiction, but he smiles all the same, patting the slab of stone he’s sat upon invitingly.

“Well, come aboard, Mr. Parker.”

Without pause, Peter hoists himself on the bench with a single hand, delicately balancing the glass of champagne with the other. He shuffles to get comfortable, swinging his legs as he settles.

The firelight catches onto the curve of Peter’s curls, slicked down into wilted tendrils from the sweat dotting his hairline.

His heart is positively thunderous in his chest. He raises his hand to soothe it and at once, sickeningly, painfully misses the comforting heat of the arc reactor.

“You wanna talk about it?” Peter asks, after a moment.

Tony smiles wryly, mostly to himself. Of course, there’s nothing that escapes Peters notice.

“Trust me, kid. There’s not much to say.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Peter says, fishing something out of his pocket and handing it to Tony “I, uh, thought you liked those. I took the last one.”

It’s a portugese egg tart, Tony notes, warmed slightly from Peter’s body heat. Fuck. He does like them. They’re his favourite.

Tony pretends like his heart isn’t swelling to the point where it feels it's going to burst and breaks the tart in two, passing over the other half to Peter.

“Thanks, kid. Try some.”

They eat their halves in relative silence, save for the sound of chewing and Peter’s shoes hitting the stone as he swings his legs. But the mood grows quieter, noticeably pensive after they finish eating. It makes Tony’s skin crawl.

“You know,” Peter says softly, as if raising his voice would shatter the moment, “you’re not the only one to come back to find years lost. To find the world different. I know it’s not easy. Especially on nights like this.”

Tony swallows roughly, chasing it with a mouthful of champagne.

“You seem to have managed well.”

Peter huffs. “Oh yeah, real well. God, you don’t even know how --” his voice breaks off, voice wet with emotion. He looks away, throat bobbing as he gathers himself. “You just -- you don’t know.”

The moment feels fraught with enough gravity that it would bring the moon down between them.

“Hey,” Tony chides, trying to diffuse the heavy emotion with what levity he could utter. “Come on now, it’s supposed to be me out here maudlin. Don’t steal my thunder, Charlotte's Web.”

“Sorry,” Peter says, cracking a smile. “I’ll try to pencil in sad hours for later.”

“Appreciated.”

A comfortable silence settles between them. A woman, visibly drunk, passes them and raises her glass to Tony, the liquid sloshing out from the glass and down her arm. She doesn’t seem to notice, smiling and stumbling away.

That would have been Tony ten years ago (in his lived years). On the weekends without Morgan, sometimes it still is.

“Got any resolutions, Mr. Stark?”

Tony snorts. “Shit, kid, I don’t know. Take Morgan to Saturn. Run for president, get back on the Cosmo’s Bachelor of the Year.”

“Most people just join a gym.”

“I didn’t come back to life to break my hip on a treadmill,” Tony says, offended. “What about you, Peter Rabbit?”

Peter takes a sip of his drink as he visibly deliberates. Wayward drops of champagne gather at the corner of his mouth before he scoops them with his tongue, eyes drifting to the glittering skyline.

“Yeah. I’m trying to get this guy that I’m into to take me seriously.”

Tony hums, stomach dropping.

“Some guy, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ve known him since I was fifteen and I’m like, super into him, but he still sees me as a child.”

His stomach swoops back up.

“Well,” Tony clears his throat, daring to hope, “this guy’s an idiot if he can’t see you for the man you are. You’re a catch.”

Peter shrugs, inching closer as he adjusts his balance. Their hands are nearly touching and Tony can feel the heat radiating from the man's body and he hates himself for it, just a little bit, he’s too old to feel like a kid with a crush again.

“He’s not an idiot. Well, he is, sometimes. Not all the time.”

“You sure this guy is good enough for you?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, looking out at the skyline again. “He’s just lost. I can wait.”

“What if he’s not right for you?” Tony says, throat closing unexpectedly. “What if he’s not worth the wait?”

Peter shuffles closer.

“He has been so far,” he says, bravely extending his pinkie so it curls atop Tony’s. In the cool night air the touch of skin against skin is scorching. “Worst case scenario has already happened. I’ve already lost him in the worst possible way. I could do without him calling me kid all the time though.”

“He makes no promises on that.”

“I thought as much.”

“You deserve better than lost, Pete,” Tony says around the lump in his throat. For a moment he can’t speak, the memories of electricity ripping through his body in a moment of love much like the feeling he has now. “You deserve the best.”

But Peter doesn’t say anything. He tugs on their linked pinkies to intertwine their fingers, resting them in the interstice of their pressed thighs. Tony doesn’t miss how Peter’s palms are damp against his, how they tremble ever so slightly. It’s grounding, to know Peter is as nervous as he is.

When he gets brave enough to stroke the back of Peters hand with his thumb some of the mired shame melts away.

“Deserve is subjective,” Peter says, squeezing Tony’s fingers. “And I decide he is the best.”

“What if he wants you back,” Tony whispers, shifting closer on the stone until their sides are entirely flush together. “But he has nothing to offer you. Doesn’t fit in with your life.”

“What about what I can offer him?” Peter clutches his hand tighter, raising it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the back of Tony’s hand. “What if I'm there while he finds his way?”

“Pete.”

“You have time, Mr. Stark. You can figure the rest out as it comes to you.”

“And until then?”

“You go with the flow.”

“How?”

“Like this,” Peter whispers, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss.

Closing his eyes, Tony leans into it and lets himself fall. Peters lips feel soft, pillowy, the kiss chaste and unassuming. When Peter pulls back he looks dazed, which is silly, because that was a tease for Tony.

Eyes on the glistening bow of Peter’s lips, he wants to dive in and tug it between his teeth. So he does.

“That’s -- yeah,” Tony says, sliding their noses together, “Were you -- were you always this confident?”

“I’m not confident,” Peter replies, kissing him again, pulling back to exhale shakily against Tony’s lips. “Holy cow. That was, like, a super big risk for me. Wow. Did I fool you? Are you fooled?”

“Bamboozled,” Tony says, staring at Peter’s lips again. “Just to confirm, I’m the guy, right? Resolution guy?”

“Y-yeah. Yes.”

“Good,” Tony says, cupping his cheeks and kissing him again.

Fireworks bathe the couple in an electric array of neons, and crowds can be heard cheering from all around them. Tony pulls away to see Peter illuminated in brilliant colour, lips wet and swollen.

“Is this okay?” Peter reaches his free hand up to cup Tony’s cheek. “Is it weird? It’s a bit weird. Right?”

“It’s weird. But weird-different,” Tony amends. “Good different, right?”

“Right.”

“I should, maybe, keep kissing you to be sure.”

Peter’s answering grin against his lips vivifies the lights exploding around them.

To the soundtrack of waning fireworks, Tony gets lost in learning how Peter kisses, the shape of his lips, how the heat of his tongue feels against his own.

Struck suddenly by a memory Tony pulls away from Peter to groan.

“What?” Peter queries, flushed and panting. “What’s wrong?”

“I literally paid Morgan a hundred bucks to not tell you I was hot for you.”

Peter balks, staring at Tony as if he were stupid.

“Um, I have enhanced hearing, remember? And she told me, like, two months ago.”

Tony squints.

“That little brat.”

——

The knowing smiles when they walk back into the ballroom from their family is a little uncalled for. Morgan is asleep in Peppers lap so she isn’t even awake to crow about her victory.

But the way Otto splutters as his eyes dart between the bruise on Tony’s neck and their joined hands is deeply worth it.

“Happy New Year, Mr. Octavius!” Peter beams, swinging their hands together.

“And - and you. Mr. Parker.”

“Sorry to drop this on you last minute, would you mind if I get another ride home?”

“Well, I --”

“Let me compensate you for the cab,” Tony offers, dropping Peter’s hand to wind his arm around the younger man's waist, pulling their sides flush together. “It’s the least I can do. Don’t worry, Peter’s ride will be very enjoyable.”

“I take it you’re not coming back to the penthouse,” Pepper cuts in, sharing a look with Greg.

“Yeah,” Tony nods, already pulling Peter away. “When Morguna wakes up from her beauty sleep tell her she owes me a cut of the winnings, okay? Good. Happy New whatever.”

They stop by the dessert spread on their way out.

-----

Their taxi driver sends them scalding stares from the front seat.

It’s fine, Tony will compensate him generously in tips. Though, if he were the driver, he’d probably be pissed too.

For all of his stealthyness as Spider-Man, Peter is not quiet right now. He bucks into Tony’s touch, rubbing his crotch against Tony’s hand. He breaks their kiss to moans lewdly into Tony’s mouth, breath hot against his face.

“Oh god,” he exhales shakily, tugging on Tony’s tie to bring their lips together in a filthy kiss.

“Good?” Tony mumbles against his lips, grinding his palm down harder. Peter nods, tilting his head back to groan as Tony’s mouth latches onto his neck. The creamy skin is mottled with teeth marks and barely blooming hickies.

Tony sucks and and laves his tongue over the heated skin to hear how his breath hitches, those high ahh-ahh’s that fall breathlessly out of his mouth, to hear him moan --

“M-Mr. Stark!”

Tony winces, pulling back.

He sighs. “Kid, if we’re doing this, you really gotta call me Tony.”

In an instant Peter’s face turns stony, somehow looking stern despite his swollen lips and wrinkled shirt. He looks like a petulant pitbull.

“If we’re doing this you really gotta stop calling me ‘kid’, Tony.”

Tony undoes the first button of Peter’s dress shirt, then the second, parting the folds of fabric to get a view of his collarbones.

“I suppose I would be amenable to such amendments, Peter,” he nods, “on the condition that you let me take you on a date.”

As Tony snakes a hand over the curves of his clavicle, Peter’s deft fingers undo the knot of Tony’s tie until it lies loose from his neck.

“I would be amenable to that. Conditions accepted.”

“Fantastic.”

“Yeah. I’m going to kiss you again now.”

“Okay. Yeah. Good.”

-----

With a heavy arm slung around his midsection, Tony finds out what Peter’s body feels like curled around his body when he wakes up the next morning.

There are a lot of little discoveries on New Years Day.

Like the feeling of Peter’s morning wood pressed pleasantly against his ass. Or how Peter squints adorably as he wakes up, as if he were confused by his own consciousness, his bedhead a mad nest of curls. Or how much Tony doesn’t mind the humid exchange of morning breath.

“Do you always take your first dates to bed?” Peter queries over breakfast, the ghost of a teasing smile on his face.

“That was not a date,” Tony points his fork at him. Scrambled egg falls from the utensil onto the table. “And we didn’t even have sex. That’s misleading, mister.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Tony sniffs.

“You’ll find out when we have our first date, won’t you? Friday at seven. Yes or yes?”

Peter sips his coffee to hide his smile, but Tony still sees it.

“Yes.”

-----

They got their date.

Six months after the New Years festivities comes Morgans eleventh birthday.

Tony’s had a lot of dates with a lot of people, including Peter, but nothing quite trumps this.

It’s a double date. With his ex-wife and her new husband. Plus twelve other kids and their parents at a McDonalds.

All four are seated at a table, Peter to his side, squirming on the terrible, hard chairs while Pepper and Greg sit opposite. Several servings of burgers and fries lay cold between them. Mostly melted McFlurries ooze off the provided plastic spoon when disinterestedly stirred.

It’s terribly romantic.

Morgan wanted McDonalds with her friends for her birthday, and before the big move to middle school. It fell on date night.

The garishly decorated diner is alive with the sounds of yelling and laughing, kids and their siblings running after one another, pushing each other down slides and following each other through narrow, plastic tunnels.

Tony’s never really been a double date kinda guy, particularly when it involves the mother of his child and his new, twenty-something lover. It was stilted in the beginning, made more awkward by Tony’s foursome jokes, but Peter keeps the conversation afloat, dipping the congealed fries into Tony’s melted ice cream.

He rubs Tony’s lower back as he speaks. Soothing, grounding circles that inadvertently keep Tony in the present.

Peter likes being in constant contact, Tony found. Now that he has the permission. Whether its holding hands, a casual grip on Tonys knee, his thigh, his back.

It’s… actually nice. Maybe because he does it too.

It’s not always about comfort though, Tony concedes, as Peter’s hand dips a little lower, brushing over the swell of his ass.

They share a knowing look.

Tony knows now, what that odd twinkle in Peter’s eyes mean. That little pervert. He knows it in the way Peter bites his bottom lip, as if canary feathers are about to flutter out of his guilty mouth. He wants to lean over and kiss the look right off them.

Greg keeps a close eye on the playground, loafers tapping anxiously on the tiles when a kid pulls a daring move and nearly misses their landing.

He’s not the worst, Tony concedes, wearily assessing the other man. He cares for Morgan which is a plus. But he’s greying gracefully and is genuinely so nice and humble that Tony can’t help but test him every now and then. How earnest can he truly be with Tony stealing a fry here and there and knocking his knees ‘accidentally’.

The conversation turns to Morgans transition to middle school. Pepper thinks she’ll outgrow her peers in months and will pursue a more scientific-focused academic curriculum.

It’s one of those rare, transient moments of life that Tony’s here to witness. He’s getting used to feeling like everything is going to be okay, like maybe he wasn’t brought back just to be a part of another fight. But there’s a lingering anxiety, he just doesn’t know how to deal with without a solder or a suit to tinker on.

He’s working on it though.

“Should we manhandle her highness back in for the cake?” Tony asks, hand snaking down to squeeze Peter’s firm thigh.

Peter, not missing a beat, sends him a smirk that says I’ll manhandle you.

It’s only right that Tony tightens his grip on Peter’s thigh, smiling proudly to himself when Peters breath hitches.

A kid knocks into the back of Tony’s chair, screaming as they run towards the playground. Tony winces, the moment broken.

“Need I remind you two that we’re in a family establishment,” Pepper stresses.

“Yes,” Tony rolls his eyes, gesturing to the playground of rambunctious, screaming children. “How could I forget.”

“Tony.”

“You heard her, Pete, keep it safe for work. You’re making people uncomfortable,” Tony says, clamping down tighter on Peter's leg. Speaking to the couple, he gestures to Peter with his thumb. “Real horndog this one. Insatiable.”

“Me?” Peter says accusingly, jaw dropping.

Pepper raises an eyebrow cooly. “Please, Tony. Don’t think Morgan hasn’t told me about the time she walked in on you two. One time you told her you were checking each Peters temperature. With your long thermometer -- honestly, Tony. Try not to traumatise our child.”

Peter visibly colours at the mention.

“Wait,” Tony says. “That little -- I paid her twenty bucks not to tell you that.”

“So did I,” Peter frowns. “And I gave her the rest of my Reeses to seal the deal. Ah, crap.”

“You got played,” Greg snickers. Tony hates him again.

He nods at Pepper.

“She gets that from you.”

Pepper smiles, unbothered, looking every ounce the image of class as she raises her plastic cup of milkshake to them.

Tony sighs, not even mad.

Some things never change.

-- Thank you to our wonderful artists and writer who participated in the first Starker Games! <3 <3 <3 this is fabulous and we hope you enjoyed yourselves!

#Starker #starker games #starker fanart #PeterxTony #TonyxPeter #New Years

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give-me-back-my-rhodey · 4 years

Text

Here We Are, Born to be Kings - AUgust Day 9

Title: Here We Are, Born to be Kings

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Rhodey/Tony

Square Filled: G2 Dramatic Proposal

Link: Read on AO3

Summary: Prince James is in love with Lord Tony Stark, a childhood friend. However, the Starks have been disgraced due to embezzlement charges. Can they overcome this?

++++++++++

“Your Highness. Lord Stark is here to see you.” Quentin Beck holds up his nose.

Prince James Rhodes rolls his eyes. It’s not like Beck should judge. He was only hired because his family was in serious debt. Tony is working out of his.

Tony walks in a few minutes later, hair askew. “Wow, Rhodey, your servants hate me. I call it an achievement.”

“They just think it’s ok to judge since their scandals happened long ago enough for people to forget. You don’t deserve this.”

“I probably do.” Tony shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me. Actually, it gives me the chance to ditch my politeness because they already dislike me.”

“Oh for that luxury,” Rhodey sighs. He hates the protocol he must go through. Maybe that’s why he finds Tony so refreshing.

They first met at a football match. Tony was on the other team, and he told the young prince, “We’re not playing any easier because you’re the prince. So, be ready for that.”

Rhodey laughed and started playing. Tony’s team was clearly better, and they defeated Rhodey's team easily. After the game, Tony invited him to grab some lunch. They have been fast friends ever since.

Now, Rhodey is 22 and Tony is 21. Tony’s father died last year, and Tony inherited his estate. After going over the numbers, Tony’s godfather, Obadiah Stane informed him that Howard had been falsifying records and was basically bankrupt.

Dazed and reeling from his parents' sudden death, Tony doesn’t know what to do with this information. He reaches out for help, but as Howard had been stealing money from his peers, everyone refuses to help him. Rhodey offers to bail him out completely. Tony won’t let him. He decides he will work to pay off his father's debts.

Tony was always incredibly smart. His patented inventions were used worldwide. He decides to start his own company, Stark Enterprises, where he builds and sells hi-tech machinery and entertainment devices. As his company quickly grows, he branches out into clean energy and satellites. Not even a full year after starting his company, Tony is very successful. With only Stane and his PA, Pepper Potts, at his right hand, Tony makes sure that he himself takes care of the books. Every entry is painstakingly entered and checked by the big boss himself.

Rhodey is very proud of his friend, but it seems that his family is the only one in the kingdom that is. King Terrance and Queen Roberta love the young man as a son, but they often wonder if he is taking on too much, causing his sleepless nights and unhealthy eating habits. Tony waves them off saying he had had those problems before his parents had died.

Prince James’ PR agent tells him that finding someone to date might be a good look for him. Everyone is looking for news of the royal family, and they will only assume the worst if they don’t hear from each member. Queen Roberta’s cooking classes and bingo games are televised. The king does a podcast twice a month. Jeannie plays tennis professionally. James is the only one without a big public profile, and he prefers that. However, there are some people who think that James is being pushed out of the spotlight or being abused in some kind. To quell any quickly rising rumors, Rhodey agrees to attend sports matches and talk to the press for a few minutes each time. When Tony’s not working his ass off, he often accompanies Tony.

What Rhodey doesn’t tell his PR agent is the reason he doesn’t date. He is hopelessly in love with Tony and admitting that would be bad for a few reasons. 1.) Everyone in the country is against Tony. They would slander his name even more if they thought he had got his “money-grubbing claws” in the prince. 2.) Tony is straight. He had never told Rhodey otherwise, and he has only dated women as far as Rhodey knows. 3.) He doesn’t want any reason to make Tony uncomfortable in the only place he is welcome other than his home. So, he skirts the topic because fake dating is not his idea of fun.

Now, Tony’s here and Rhodey knows he’s giving Tony heart eyes. “So, you’ve got a day off from me. What’s the plan, Rhodey?”

“You pick today. I’m up for anything.” Rhodey trusts that Tony won’t do anything Rhodey can’t.

Tony sits on the chair beside Rhodey. “I need to sit. I don’t think I’ve stopped moving for a week.”

“So, what you’re saying is you need sleep.” Rhodey retorts.

“No, I need to spend time with my Rhodeybear. We never did that Star Wars marathon after Rise of Skywalker came out, did we?” Tony pokes him. “We can order like tons of pizza and greasy foods and bro it out like the old times.”

Stuck in a theatre room with only Tony and highly unhealthy food? “Sounds like a great day. Let’s queue up the movies. I’ll have |Miss Cabe order our food. The usual?” Tony nods and heads off to the theater.

Rhodey pulls out his phone and texts a maid, Bethany Cabe, to place an order for the following: an extra-large bacon pizza, two orders of cheesy curly fries, mozzarella sticks, and onion rings. Rhodey has cases of Tony’s favorite beer, so they did not need to worry about drinks.

As they settle in to watch the movies, Tony tells him, “Wake me up if I fall asleep. I don’t want to miss Episode Six again.”

“Come on Tones, Return of the Jedi isn’t the best.” Rhodey smirks.

Tony glares at him. “It’s my favorite. Leave me alone. Go ahead and like Empire or whatever one you like the best. Geez.”

“You know mine is Episode Three. The tragedy, the pain, the John Williams’ scores? A masterpiece.”

“Anakin deserved better.” Tony mumbles as he eats a bite of pizza. Rhodey sighs. He’s heard this rant many times, and he’ll probably hear it again tonight. Tony really gets into these movies.

Tony falls asleep at the end of A New Hope, his head falling on Rhodey’s shoulder. He looks so exhausted so Rhodey lets him sleep through Empire since Tony thinks it’s overhyped or something. Rhodey likes it. When Return of the Jedi starts, Rhodey nudges Tony awake. “Episode 6? Honeybear, you are an angel.” Tony kisses his cheek.

By the time The Last Jedi comes on, both of the men are sleeping. Jeannette comes in to check on them and snaps a picture of Tony lying on top of Rhodey, both snoring away.

Rhodey wakes up a few hours later and freezes. Tony is sleeping peacefully on him, his head on Rhodey’s chest. He doesn’t dare move in fear of waking Tony up. He slowly reaches for his phone and scrolls through Instagram and other social media apps until Tony wakes up.

Tony wakes up slowly, but when he’s fully awake he jumps up and goes. “I’ve got to get to work!”

“Hey Tony. It’s Sunday. We were going to spend Saturday and Sunday together, right?”

“Oh. Oh. Whew. I thought.” Tony slumps. “Probably hallucinating from all that grease.”

“Maybe we should get a little more sleep in a real bed.” Rhodey suggests. Tony nods, and they walk up to Rhodey’s room. Since they were kids, Tony always slept in Rhodey’s bed with him. They only ever slept and/or cuddled, and Rhodey has a king bed in case either of them needed their own space.

They go to Jeannie’s tennis match then accompany her to an expensive Italian restaurant for dinner. The next morning, there are pictures splashed across the tabloids. Stark trying to get in with the Royal Family? Read more on page 3! One says. The Apple Doesn’t Fall far from the Tree – Another Gold-Digging Stark! Rhodey shakes his head. He was afraid this would happen. He calls his PR agent, Maria Hill.

She answers with a “Now do you see why having a partner would be good?”

“Yes. Do you have any candidates who would be willing to date with no sex and/or strings attached? For public only?”

“You don’t know how many celebrities only hope for that. Let me see which ones I can get. I’ll send you over a packet when I get them.”

When he gets the packet, Rhodey isn’t surprised to find that 75% of them are women. Skipping through them, he tells Maria to reach out to an A-list actress Natasha Romanov. She is a beautiful woman, and they seem to have a lot of the same likes and dislikes. She agrees to meet with Rhodey at a small café near the palace. He introduces himself as Rhodey, then corrects it to “James or Jim” when Romanov gives him an odd look. “I’m sorry. My best friend always calls me Rhodey. It’s just what I expect now. I mean, if you want to call me that in private, it’s fine. Maria thinks it’s better if you call me James or Jim when talking with the press.”

“Tell me about this best friend.” Natasha leans forward. “He sounds like a nice guy.”

Rhodey launches into a detailed description of Tony: his strengths, his flaws, his quirks, etc. When he’s done, she asks, “And you’re dating me because you can’t date him?”

“How did you…?”

“You’re in love with him. Just look at your face. It’s ok. I won’t tell the press. I have almost the same problem. I’m in a poly relationship with a different celebrity couple. However, since Hollywood, even with its sex scandals, still looks down on poly relationships. I need a beard to keep our activity on the downlow. Is that acceptable for you?”

Rhodey nods. “Of course. And you’re right. I love Tony, but I need to keep the press out of his life. His father put him through a lot, and he’s trying to make up for Howard’s sins. He doesn’t need the extra press coverage. Also, I don’t know if he likes me like that. I’ve never seen him date a guy.”

“Well, I’d like to meet him.”

+++++++ Natasha and Tony eventually meet. Tony is happy to meet her, but Rhodey feels that Tony is wearing one of his many masks. |When they kiss goodnight, Natasha tells him, “Rhodey, he likes you.”

“Not that I want to doubt you, but I’m highly doubtful on this one here.”

A few months pass, and Natasha and Prince James are photographed at red carpet events, at sports games, and at galas. Rumors are spreading that Prince James might propose soon. Natasha shows up at the palace for a surprise visit. “Hey, can we talk?” She pulls James from his family dinner.

She tells him how the couple that she is dating are planning on coming out to the press as poly with her because they know some younger people who are receiving hate for their relationships. They want to be allies for such people. And they want her there when they come out. “Can we say we amicably split? I’d love to keep in contact with you.”

“That sounds good.” His phone pings. He has a google alert set up for Tony because the press likes to come up to him for hostile interviews at the most inopportune times. James does his best to save him. “Listen Nat, I will talk to my publicist, but I have to go.”

The press has trapped Tony on the palace driveway. “What do you think of Prince James marrying Ms. Romanov?” One reporter asks.

“I didn’t know they got engaged, but I think they are an excellent match. Well-suited for each other.” Rhodey can see Tony is keeping his press face on but was not ready for the sudden press conference.

Another reporter sneers. “We know you were trying to get a piece of the royalty. Will you try for the princess now that the prince is spoken for?”

“Excuse me?” Tony reels. “What are you talking about?”

“They’ll never have you. You’re just a charity case to them. What do you think of that? Did you think Prince James really liked you? Especially after what your father did?” Another reporter shoves a microphone in his face.

Tony loses his mask. “Do I think Rho- Prince James really liked me? I have known the prince since we were young teenagers. I know he likes me… as a friend. But anything more? No. He never did, never will. I know what my father did; I know what I have to do to fix it. My father and Prince James have no correlation. What are you even trying to say here?” Rhodey can see the pain in Tony’s eyes. They flash when he says that Rhodey will never like him as anything more as a friend.

“Excuse me.” Rhodey steps forward. “Can you step away from him, please?”

The press apologizes and steps away. “Now, I want to say this once more and hopefully never again. Lord Stark is not his father. Lord Stark is paying his father’s investors back as quickly as he can. He started up his business on his own with his trust fund from his maternal grandmother. Howard never saw or added to a penny of that fund. What is the point of hating a man for the sins of his father? Keep rolling. I am talking to the country as a whole. Leave him alone, please. I want to say one more thing. Tony Stark, you are the love of my life. The reason I have not dated is because the only person I have ever loved was you. Yes, Natasha and I dated, but we did to keep other things hidden. I’m sure she will let you know at some point. It’s not my job. Tony, again, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and perhaps rule with you. I do not have a ring yet because I had not planned to propose to you in front of live TV today, yet here I am. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“You’re serious?” Tony gasps.

“Completely.”

“Then Rhodey, my Honeybear, my Platypus, my Sourpatch, I will marry you in a heartbeat.” Tony smiles widely, and Rhodey kisses him deeply, in front of the cameras. As they turn to the palace, Tony turns back to the cameras, lifts his middle finger, and says, “Fuck you” whilst smiling sweetly.

++++++ The country is so shocked at Prince James’ dramatic proposal. People wonder if Tony is a good fit for the prince due to his blatant disregard for protocol. Princess Jeannie posts the picture she took of them sleeping in the theatre room on Instagram, the caption “I knew it.” She broke the internet with the most likes on an Instagram post.

Tony goes through his numbers and his father’s numbers again to make sure everyone is paid off. While looking at his father’s records again, he notices some discrepancies from Obadiah’s report. The truth comes out – Howard had not done anything wrong; it was Obadiah. He falsified documents, records, and even bills to give him much more money. Obadiah is fired and imprisoned. Tony’s name is cleared. Anthony Stark marries Prince James Rhodes a happy man.

#ironhusbands #royalty au #tony stark doesn't give a care #ironhusbands bingo 2020 #ironhusbands bingo #au_gust_2020 #i write!

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years

Text

Unforgettable-Final Chapter

Also on AO3 A very special thanks to @statell for all your help

Chapter Nine

A young man knocks hard on a wood pole of a tukul, a round shelter made of grasses, mud, and wood poles, very common in South Sudan and the only type of structure on this UN base. It is officially known as the United Nations Protection of Civilians Site Bentiu. It was constructed outside the scorched city of Bentiu in the poorest nation of central Africa. The civil war had been raging for three years and when a peace treaty was signed in 2015 it failed to stop the fighting, so the war raged on.

The young man knocked harder on the tukul making the structure wobble in its feebleness. “Claire! Wake up! Treatment three and hurry! The door opened in a rush and Claire stood on the other side pushing her t-shirt into her pants.

“Jesus, I hate waking up to a flood of adrenalin! Nabbi when the tukul shakes like that the creatures in the grass roof fall to the ground, or on me.”

Nabbi smiled mischievously at his favorite nurse, “and now you are up and need very high, doctor says run!”

Claire felt her thighs burning as she sprinted to the treatment ward. Rounding the corner she saw both doctors bent over bodies that were unrecognizable. Casualties of government soldiers shooting, raping, and burning a village in the night.

Sterile gloves slapped back on her hands that were held aloft. There were no sterile gowns and no clean water on most days.

“I’m ready!

A long stream of Gaelic profanity was growled as Jamie threw his instruments on the wooden tray. He hung his head wondering what the intensive nine-month training he endured was for as he lost more than he saved. The patient was removed by workers and another mangled mess was placed on his table. Claire held his gloves open and his huge hands jammed into them.

“Pea! On the double, bring a clamp pack, this boy is bleeding out!

Claire felt like she never stopped running when the wounded arrived from a village raid.

“Clamp the arteries as fast as you can. I have the chest, you take the abdomen. We can save this one if we hurry.”

Claire’s steady hand held the row of clamps as she jammed the forceps into one and pinched a bleeder off by squeezing it around the vessel. She worked fast from three months of practice at this level of trauma. Her eyes flicked at Jamie every few minutes because she was worried about him. He was losing weight and had dark circles under his eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw him smile.

“Eyes on the bleeders sweet pea, your betrothed is fine, just frustrated.”

“I’m worried, Cutter, he doesn’t look well, as a matter of fact, either do you. Thank Christ we’re getting out of here in four days.”

(NSFW under the cut.)

Hours later they each had a bucket of semi-clean water to pour over their heads. One bucket per day. Claire spent many hours daydreaming about long showers with her favorite scented body wash and it was finally just four days away. She took a seat next to Jamie at the grub table and ran her hand down his leg. Looking up at his tired face made her long to lay in his arms and kiss him to sleep. She missed him. Nine months of working his practice while completing his field training had kept him away from her and then they were off to South Sudan to do their part with Doctors Without Borders. He had done that for her and now she just wanted to get him home.

She thought about the visiting doctor they met the week before. He, Jamie, and Cutter had much to talk about allowing Claire to watch his face, the slump of his shoulders, and his haunted eyes. He headed a research team of five other doctors that were sent to Africa to treat the outbreak of Ebola. Once their treatment protocol was established, he flew back to the states to compile the mountain of data that would be coming. All five of those doctors, his colleagues, and friends, died a horrifying death and their corpses were left rotting in the jungle until procedures were developed to bring them safely home.

Claire recognized the symptoms of survivor's syndrome, his guilt that he survived when his team did not was taking a toll on his promising life. Snuffing out the flame that once burned bright. Their contribution to the treatment of Ebola would save thousands of lives, possibly millions in the future. Once the paper was published the doctor resigned his position at Harvard Medical, locked his lab, and left civilization. Now he headed a program for monitoring the doctors on the front lines of emerging pathogens. He had come to examine the medical staff and clear them to return to America.

Cutter left to write a letter to his wife and Claire asked Jamie to take a walk with her. The compound walls stretched for a mile in each direction and U.N. peacekeepers manned the turrets along the wall with machine guns. It was crowded with people seeking refuge from the war making a relaxing walk impossible. Claire’s mantra played over and over in her head, I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home.

New doctors arrived two days later and spent twelve hours with Jamie and Cutter, learning the base, the wards, and the one-hundred seventy patients being treated. They walked through the rape ward where the girls and women were kept away from the other patients. Little was said about the brutality of the attacks. They would find out soon enough.

The pediatric ward was last. It was Jamie’s poison to watch the babies, sick with Cholera, malaria, or malnutrition succumb to their illness, week after week. Cutter had taken over the tour and Jamie sought out the quiet of their tukul. When Claire found him later, he was respondent.

“I’m sorry we came here Jamie, I’m sorry you are suffering because of me. Please talk to me before I die from sadness. I am left to guess what has struck you down, pulled you away from me. When it didn’t happen after three months, I thought I wasn’t cursed anymore. Wh…when you didn’t turn against me I mean, I thought we were safe. It just took a little longer this time, right Jamie? Now you hate everything I do and every breath I take.”

She put her arms around him and cried the words out until he turned to her and held her closely, shushing her and saying no.

“My sweet Sassenach, stop, ye dinna speak my truth lass, I’ve never loved ye more. Ye break my heart when ye cry like that.”

“Then tell me what it is and if we’re over Jamie.”

“We are powerless to save these people that have come here to die. We have no supplies, no sterile theater, and no freshwater. We are but undertakers for the almost dead. The babies, so innocent, so sick, have no chance. Born to a short life of misery. Where is God Sassenach? I can kill a man, face to face because I battle the devil. I would feel better to be let out of here where I can do some good.”

Jamie stood up abruptly and started walking to the door like he would walk out of the base and join the war.

“No!” Claire jumped on him crying no. Begging him to stop, not to leave her, not to die. “Tomorrow Jamie, we leave this dreadful place tomorrow. Please, don’t break my heart today!” She jumped off of him and ran to the door to stand in front of it.

“Let me out, Claire”

“You will have to hurt me for that to happen because I’m not moving! I understand how you feel now, and I agree, this was a terrible choice of location. In sixteen hours we board a plane to get out of this hell, why can’t you hold on until then?”

Jamie knew he wasn’t making sense and he knew this was the last night here. He took a deep breath and held his arms out to Claire.

“Please, Sassenach. Let’s go to bed, and I promise to just hold ye all night. Please, Claire, stop cryin, we will get out tomorrow and go back to our life. Come here.”

Claire flew into his arms and he carried her to bed, to hold her, until morning when this nightmare was over. She couldn’t relax until she pulled a piece of twine from her belongings and tied it around Jamie’s wrist. With much effort and Jamie’s help, the other end was tied around her wrist. She found a comfortable spot but woke up through the night to make sure he was still there.

Before they left, Claire found Cutter coming out of the surgical ward covered in blood.

“Shirt off Cutter.”

He smiled wickedly and pulled his shirt over his head. Claire held him around his middle and cried. She would miss him until they met again next year to find a new location for the summer. Jamie came up behind them and told Cutter to get his disgusting hands off his future wife. The two men shook hands and hugged, both feeling the relief this trip was over.

“Until next time friend,” Jamie said through a smile.

Claire stowed their bags and busied herself with grabbing a blanket for Jamie. She was able to get stiff drinks for both of them when they were finally in the air. She passed a mixed drink and a shot of whisky to Jamie, looking back a minute later to see two empty glasses. She got on her knees and released Jamie’s seat kissing him sweetly. That and the alcohol sent him into the quiet of his dreams for the next five hours. Claire felt relief this exhausted man could sleep, and she guarded him from the steward and other passengers that might wake him. They were accustomed to the brutal heat of South Sudan and she noticed Jamie shaking in his sleep. She turned the airflow away from him and then covered him with the blanket.

When they were notified of landing for their connection, she stroked his arm to avoid jolting him awake. Jamie pulled the armrest up and pulled her to him, covering both of them with the blanket.

Claire leaned into his neck and felt powerful arms around her. She had not felt this close to him in a very long time and wished they could cuddle for another hour. There was another huge feeling in her stomach at the same time. Her phone! She could make calls while they waited for their connection and she was bursting with excitement. She was digging in her purse while they disembarked the plane making Jamie laugh.

“Who will be first Sassenach?”

“Jenny of course,” said as she punched her speed dial.

Jamie looked down at her marveling at her ability to accept changes in her life and then put the effort into creating the life she wanted. He remembered his sister’s stone face when they met for lunch so long ago. Jenny was convinced he had become a total tool and womanizer and nothing he said would change her mind. He was so disappointed she was making him choose between her and Claire. When Claire asked him to invite Jenny and Ian for dinner one weekend, he decided it was time for Claire to know the family dynamic at play. Claire sat across from him at the kitchen table and listened to the timeline he shared with Geneva and how she poisoned Jenny’s mind against her. She felt sad for Jamie because there was now an ultimatum standing between him and Lallybroch. I can fix this, she thought, just need a little luck.

Over the next week, she checked in with Geillis and Laoghaire to get caught up on the details of Geneva’s life. She broached the subject at the club when her friends were three sheets to the wind.

“So I understand Jamie dated this girl Geneva while I was gone. I totally understand because I told him I was not coming back to Scotland, ever. Now she has lied to his sister about their relationship, so I need all her details girls.”

“Her family is rich and she flaunts that over everyone since she was in elementary.” Laoghaire was clearly harboring a dislike for the lady and Claire seized the opportunity.

“I heard she was really nice,” Claire lied.

“She is not nice! She’s a cold, calculating bitch actually. She was all sweet to me until Jamie dumped her and now she doesn’t seem to recognize me. That’s okay, she is gettin what’s due her now.”

“Do tell sweetheart,” Claire inched her chair closer to her friend.

Geillis started to laugh wickedly, “the lass got herself knocked up by some hotshot, handsome, rich, and new to the area. He’s developing the new mall and already well known around town. They were datin for a month and she told him at her birthday party she was pregnant. He instantly left the party and she cried for the rest of the night. We were there and saw the whole thing.”

Claire’s mind was churning the facts and she smiled broadly at her two best friends. ”Is that a fact?”

It took two days for Jamie to fall asleep before she did and she took his phone outside and sent a text message to Geneva to meet him at the house tomorrow, twelve noon. Then she deleted the message and blocked text messages from her.

When she answered the door the next day, she leaned against the door jam and stuck out her hand with a smile. Geneva was not happy about the intrusion of this girl and demanded to see Jamie.

“Of course, come in, let’s get acquainted. I’m Claire by the way, Jamie’s girlfriend.”

It took some persuading to get Geneva to the kitchen table where she could deliver the coup de grace.

“I am so happy to spend time with you before Jamie gets here. You see, his sister Jenny has a misconception of your relationship, and it's causing a rift in the family. I want you to fix that, today.”

Geneva snorted a weak laugh and looked at Claire with utter disdain. “Not likely, I told her the truth. I feel sorry for you because you were duped by Jamie. He was with me, actively with me, until a week before he broke it off. We talked about getting married and then suddenly he was done with me. Poor baby, you’re next.”

“I know the truth of it Geneva and you will come clean to Jenny, today. If you don’t, it’s high time your father knows about your pregnancy to a guy that has run from any association with you. An abortion, trapping him with a paternity test or just hoping he comes back will do nothing but tarnish your family’s good name. You’re a social parasite Geneva and I can see your father cut off your support and throw you to the streets to cohabitate with others as misguided as you. You must be working on solutions to your situation so tell Jenny the truth and I leave you alone. Otherwise, everyone in town will know, including your parents.”

Claire smiled sweetly at Geneva and waited until she bolted out of the house cursing under her breath. She could only hope she was right about the family dynamic and how this news would poison Geneva’s position in it.

Jamie came home the next night with company. His contrite sister was there to apologize to Claire and ask to start over with her. Claire was over the moon and made plans with Jenny for a night out on the town the following weekend so the four of them could have some fun. It was like magic to a grateful Jamie. The four of them got on so well and Claire and Jenny started a friendship that would bond them to each other like sisters.

Jamie grabbed the phone from Claire and asked Jenny to hold on a minute. He pulled Claire to his lips and kissed her deeply sparking a look in her eyes that made him weak. He handed the phone back and dropped his head to the back of his chair, asleep in minutes.

The wait for their connection was long enough for Claire to check in with Laoghaire and Geillis also. She drifted to the gift shop and purchased a beautiful bracelet made in Africa. She felt done with the excursions into remote parts of the world to render aid to the less fortunate. She just felt empty inside for such an effort again. Deep inside she knew the reason. She had her suspicions for a month but couldn’t confirm it. She felt lonely suddenly and walked quickly back to Jamie who was awake.

“Hey, sunshine, how do you feel?”

“Sleepy Sassenach. I want ye to keep me awake so tell me a story, aye?.”

Claire held her breath, wanting so badly to tell him her truth.

“Jamie, I think I’m pregnant.”

He stared at her for a good minute, expressionless, “stay here Sassenach, I’ll be right back.”

Jamie ran to the boarding counter and asked where he could find a drugstore in the airport. He sprinted away while Claire watched in total confusion. He must absolutely hate the idea, she thought as she slipped into depression.

Ten minutes later Jamie ran back with a small bag and lifted Claire to her feet guiding her to the ladies' room.

He put the bag in her hand and pushed her into the room, looking wide-eyed, almost wild.

Claire took the pregnancy test out of the bag and read the instructions. She still could not read Jamie’s emotions and felt her folly at surprising him with something life-changing and yet unverified. Holding the stick in the air to dry it she looked at the results window and felt her world tilt. It took so long to get to the sink when she looked at herself in the mirror Jamie was standing behind her.

“May I see it, Sassenach,” he whispered, looking at Claire’s pale face.

When she lifted the stick for him, he grabbed her and spun her around until she was dizzy. She smiled weakly at him trying to take in his reaction. He was absolutely beaming and kissed her face a dozen times telling her this was the best news. He gushed over her ability to make him deliriously happy, neither of them noticing a toilet flushing and a woman join them at the sink. She smiled knowingly at the two young people in love.

Spoken with a Swedish accent she told them, “now you must get off the street and get a job for your baby. You will be very happy.” She walked out of the restroom leaving Jamie and Claire clearly shocked at what she said.

Claire bent over laughing at the comment. “No shower for three months makes us look like bums on the street!”

Jamie looked like he had seen an angel and wrapped her up in his powerful arms.

“Sassenach, when we land in Scotland, I will have an agenda that will keep my mind occupied for at least two days. I willna have the brain space to utter a single sentence I’m afraid. Come, lass, let’s talk about this miracle and makin an honest woman of ye while I can.”

Jamie pulled her back to their seats and looked at a confused Claire.

“I don’t understand Jamie, what is so important for you when we get home?”

Jamie held her cheek and sighed, letting her see his need for her, making her squirm in her seat. “Oh, I see, well that trumps everything, doesn’t it? I love you Jamie and as long as you still look at me that way, I fear nothing.”

The second leg of their trip home, Claire curled up against Jamie and dove into the calming sea of her dreams. Jamie pulled her head to his lap and made sure nothing and no one disturbed her. It was a magic seven hours for him as he contemplated the family of his future with the fierce loving, free spirit who slept in his lap.

When the front door opened, two battle-weary lovers dropped their duffle bags and struggled to the shower. Jamie covered Claire with her favorite body wash followed by scented shampoo that made her moan with pleasure. He pulled the shower curtain aside and wrapped her in luxurious towels before heading back for his own time with the soap. When he emerged, the beard and mustache were quickly eliminated, and he felt like a new man anxious to devour his love in the slowest, most thorough way possible. He walked into the bedroom with his curls dripping water onto his shoulders and found Claire sitting on the side of the bed, head jerking up from falling asleep. His heart nearly melted in his chest as he pulled her to him and held her down until sleep came and took her away.

Claire woke up feeling groggy from her deep sleep. She knew they had two days to re-acclimate before work pulled them apart. Jamie looked like an angel to her as he slept. She could take a bit of time to recreate the body she preferred. She snuck quietly to the second bathroom and filled the bath with hot water and scented bubble bath. She placed two new razors on the tub and scraped off the unwanted hair that invaded her most intimate body parts over the last three months. It was liberating and unleashed her arousal, dormant for so long. By the time she was done, it was a struggle not to jump on Jamie and win her release that was throbbing between her legs.

Standing at the foot of the bed, she watched him sleep, noticing the room had become grey with the coming sunrise. She knelt to kiss his feet, followed by his calves, licking the back of his knees and causing him to gasp. She ran her tongue slowly up the back of his legs and buried her face under his buttocks to lick his balls until he flipped over and looked at her.

Jamie struggled to contain his need to pound her and his mind was full of this wonderful woman. I must slow my heart, he thought. She is kneeling over me naked and I canna get enough of her, clean shaved, smelling like sex. Her hair is falling around her face as she runs her eyes up and down my body. Jesus, she is beautiful and has no idea how I want to take her. Brutally, lovingly, dominating her body and mind until she gives in to me. I must fight the urge to consume her. She is the mother of my child and I will use all my strength not to overpower her. God, when she pulls my nipple into her mouth it strips my resolve. I want to take her, my way, without consent, without mercy, until she’s mine.

“Sassenach, my love, come here.”

She is resistant. Careful lass, dinna tempt me, I’m no that strong. What is this? No, not a good idea, keep yer beautiful mouth away from me. It’s not fair but oh…my…God it feels so good. Jesus lass, stop or I’ll come down yer throat before I can worship yer body. Come here, love.

Claire felt Jamie pull her to his lips and crush her. He flipped her over and pulled her legs apart feasting his eyes on her gorgeous pussy. She dropped her fingers to her fold and held it apart for him to gorge himself on her throbbing core. She arched her back into her first orgasm and tried to pull him to her. He entered her softly and slowly making her pant for more. She grabbed his face to her and looked him in the eye.

“I don’t want Sunday school. If I say, uncle, I do the wash for both of us. Show me how much you love me Jamie, right now, and don’t hold back or I’ll go back to sleep, I swear I will.”

For the next thirty minutes, Claire felt the power of Jamie and it thrilled her as he pulled her into the most intimate and edgy positions that most women would push away from. She opened her body to him, and he feasted, growling into his orgasm that stung his balls as he ejaculated. Claire was vaguely aware of the quilt pulling up to cover them and Jamie’s soft kisses on her face. They were clinging to each other as they fell into another five hours of sleep only to repeat the intensity once again.

Many hours later, Claire heard the quiet ringtone alerting her to a call coming in. She patted the bed until she found the offending phone and opened her eyes just before clicking the dismiss button. She answered hoping she could stay awake long enough to let him talk.

“Joe, why are you calling in the middle of the night?”

“It is one in the afternoon gorgeous and it’s time to get up.”

“No, it’s time to sleep some more dear one. What do you want?”

“I want to say welcome back to civilization, hear about your tour in Sudan, and one more thing Claire.”

She looked at the phone and shook her head, trying to wake up. “What other thing Joe?”

“I found Luna.”

“What?!”

“She’s in an orphanage Claire, has been since the raid on the hospital. The rebels leveled the settlements nearby and Luna’s family was wiped out. Thank God those monsters have respect for the innocent. I thought you would want to know.”

Claire was on her feet and pounding Joe with questions as she paced the bedroom. Running for her laptop she brought up the URL Joe dictated and raced through the pictures of babies and children that were up for adoption. Her fingers abruptly stopped when she found the face of her angel and she gasped at the sight of her.

“Jesus Christ Joe, she’s been in that place for over a year! How can I get her out?”

“It’s not easy Claire, but someone has to help her.”

Joe gave Claire the number to call the adoption agency in Honduras and what little he had discovered about Luna. He warned her the adoption protocols were temporarily closed for unknown reasons and forwarded the email listing the steps to adopt a child from a country outside of Honduras. It included two stays in-country to live among the culture of the child as the agency went over her dossier.

Claire was crying with the love and fear she felt for Luna and promised Joe she would keep him posted. When she felt Jamie’s hand on her bare shoulder she looked up into compassionate eyes and she felt him say, I’m here to help you, trust me with your truth, I will help you bring her home.

Claire clicked off from Joe and dissolved into her tears and fears while Jamie held her with his strength.

Jamie looked at the pictures of Luna on the website and felt his heart open up and pull her in. Her face was the picture of innocence, her huge eyes revealed her loveless life and fear. He waited for Claire to be distracted and returned to her picture again and again. Claire loves this beautiful little girl like she was her own. Something had to be done.

Luna became their project during their off-hours. Returning to work was hard enough, but Luna was a constant presence in both their minds. The requirement for being considered as an adoption family were rigid including two prolonged stays in-country. When Jamie brought that up Claire would start shaking and he could see the war going on in her head.

“Stay in Honduras for two weeks? I could see Luna during that time, but we must be invited and they have had our dossier for three weeks, Jamie. When are we going to hear from them?”

Claire was clearly scared shitless about entering that country again, even when Jamie assured her the city was safe. He talked it over with John during an afternoon hike when Claire was working. When John bid him farewell he followed up with, “I’m going with her Jamie because you can’t. Tell her to schedule the visit right away before I’m assigned to a case.”

When Jamie told Claire John would go with her to Honduras she cried and hung on his neck. Within a week, Claire was invited by the agency to come and see Luna. Jamie had mixed feelings letting go of her at the airport.

“Sassenach, I’m so sorry I canna go with ye. Are ye alright with John lass?”

She looked into his eyes feeling such gratitude he would let her go without him. She smiled and kissed him before breaking out of his embrace to jog to her boarding gate. John settled into the seat next to her and complained that her pregnancy put a stop to partying enroute to Honduras.

“You’re a very selfish person, curbing my happiness on this trip. I just wanted you to know that Claire.”

She smiled at him and got comfortable for the long plane ride to a country she hated.

They strolled through the nursery the next day, a requirement of the agency to look at all the children up for adoption. Claire could hardly breathe waiting to see Luna. She heard a familiar cry and looked through a window at numerous cribs with children inside. The minute her eyes saw Luna she struggled to stay on her feet. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she smiled at the infant who was having a tantrum, shaking a stuffed toy in Claire’s direction. They were forced to view the rest of the infants before returning to the nursery where Luna was.

Claire walked directly to Luna and smiled at her obvious recollection. She held her arms out for her and Luna moved into them gripping Claire’s hair with both fists and burying her face in Claire’s neck. They both clung to each other with tears that flowed freely. Even John was choked up and turned around to cough harshly. The rest of the afternoon, Claire held Luna in a huge rocking chair and seemed far away in a world she shared with Luna alone. John paced the hallway watching with growing concern.

“Jamie, I’m worried. These two are obviously bonded and Luna remembers her. Claire is in another world and just wants to hold her. I’m not sure this will end well for Claire. What should I do?”

“Protect her John. Dinna let anyone close to Claire. Other than that, let it play out. Ye willna be able to drag Claire away until they tell her to go, aye?” Claire cried so hard on her last day with Luna. She heard the baby wailing for her until they were out the door of the orphanage. John held a weeping Claire all the way back to Scotland and was anxious to hand her to Jamie to console. He really didn’t get the emotional part of this mission.

Claire returned to work and pushed Luna out of her mind so she could function. The next in-country requirement was a four-week stay in Honduras and Claire made contact with the agency every week asking for an invitation to come. She was being stone-walled without any explanation and it was taking its toll on her.

Jamie watched her brave attempts to act normal but as her pregnancy progressed her expanding waistline reminded him constantly of her delicate condition. He was prepared to accompany her to Honduras as soon as they were allowed. The weeks turned into months and Claire could not take it anymore. Jamie held her close and promised to find an answer to why they had not been processed already. He looked into her eyes and asked her with a sincere and loving heart to marry him, right now.

The following weekend, they were married at the Justice of the Peace with Jenny and Ian standing as witnesses. Claire was six months pregnant and Jamie knew the window of opportunity to travel to Honduras was closing.

Cutter answered Jamie’s call with a heartfelt hello to his friend. Jamie asked about other means to push the adoption through since the agency had closed the proceedings at the order of the government. It was a match to kindling as Cutter felt Claire’s despair to save Luna. He remembered her asleep on the Lazy Boy with a hand in the incubator, waking every hour to feed this doomed child. He was mobilized to cut through this ridiculous bureaucracy and get some answers from the agency.

On a whim, Cutter wrote a letter to the president of the United States, detailing the surgical procedure that saved Luna and how one nurse fought for her against all odds. He told of her bravery when the hospital was raided, how she was shot and barely escaped her own death. These terrible events befell her because she pledged two years of her life to help the Hondurans. He included her husband’s bravery when he got all of them out of the country, risking his own life. He completed the letter with his wish to reunite this forgotten child with the only mother she ever knew. “Go with God.” The envelope was sealed and sent.

A month later, Cutter received a letter from the White House. A duplicate letter was received by Jamie and Claire. Both letters were signed by the President with the amazing news that Luna was coming to America the following weekend and they were invited to the Dallas airport to greet her.

Claire sat down hard in the rocking chair and stared at the floor as Jamie read the letter. She looked up expecting the next shoe to fall and watched Jamie typing into his phone. Claire was frozen watching Jamie pace as he arranged a flight for the following weekend. She felt the tears fall down her cheeks as she waited to hear bad news or wake up from a dream.

Jamie knelt on the floor to look into her eyes. “She is coming home Sassenach, in four days! The president arranged this for you, and for Luna. Be happy Sassenach, it is happening and we will have her home with us by next week!”

Jamie pulled Claire into bed and held her close telling her it was going to be perfect and to have faith. Claire gripped his sides and shook, feeling so small in this miraculous undertaking.

Claire gripped Jamie’s hand at the Dallas airport and heard her mantra repeated over and over again, please let her be on that plane, please let her be on that plane. She looked up at an entourage coming out of the plane. They were obviously secret service and surrounded a woman in the middle of all those bodies. Claire and Jamie stood waiting, barely breathing.

A petite, young, blonde woman with striking features was revealed and she held Luna in her arms looking around for a familiar face. When her eyes found Jamie she smiled and walked to him, seeing Claire’s face she knew who she was. Luna was handed to Claire as she dissolved in grateful tears and sat down to avoid falling over as Luna’s face pressed to hers.

Jamie looked down at the office manager and his eyes were shouting his thanks to her. “Mission accomplished soldier, I would salute ye if I could. I am so grateful.”

She looked at him with compassion, her face showing her delight in helping this mission come to pass. She placed her hand on Jamie’s arm.

“The U.S. President salutes you, Jamie, from behind the scenes as you and I have come to know it. It was a three-country effort to arrange the adoption, the U.S., Scotland, and Honduras. How the U.S. President got involved I’ll never know but it was his clout that got the attention needed. Luna belongs to the two of you now. I pulled strings to get assigned to this mission so I could carry her to you. It’s my going away present and no one is more deserving than you.”

Jamie was reeling from the disclosure. He looked up and saw Dougal hanging back looking like he was a stranger, waiting to board his flight. He turned slightly and locked eyes with Jamie and the two men nodded slightly to each other. Jamie looked at Claire and Luna feeling like his heart would burst in his chest. There was much to do to ready the house for this precious child and another soon to be born. He took a deep breath and looked for the office manager but she was gone, as was Dougal. They melted into the airport population on their way back to Scotland.

Jamie felt the tears on his cheeks and sat down next to Claire and Luna, holding them close and thanking God for this miracle. His head was bowed as he prayed his thanks until a tiny hand reached out for him and pushed her body toward him. He pulled Luna to him and locked eyes with his new daughter.

“I’m Da, Luna.”

She touched his face and then his tears with her finger, looking at him like he was the most important person she had ever met.

“No more fear lassie, ye’ll have a life of love, I promise.”

Jamie struggled to push the tears back. Not for his pride or appearing weak. He wanted his eyes clear so he could see his two lassies and Claire’s round abdomen that held his next son or daughter, closely protected and fiercely loved.

The End.

The spirit in me bows to the spirit in you...Namaste and thank you.

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rip-a-dip-dip-you-potato-chip · 3 years

Text

will this be a legit tumblr fic series? no, absolutely not I just felt like writing something. Everything else will be bullet points since I can knock out like, two to three seasons in one go.

Shannon (Shan) Maywether.

Oc introduction P1

This takes place in between season 1 episodes 10 and 11 in like a mini sode I like to call "Eye of Unfairness" its a play off the fact Shan means unfortunate and unfair in Scottish (something I recently learned)

Also feel free to change out Shannon's/Shans name for your OC if you want to! I don't mind! Keep in mind this fic was made with Shannon's personality and physical condition in mind. I also wouldn't mind feed back!

Third person POV

A day had passed since the reveal of the green ninja. It was a surprise to learn that Lloyd, a kid, was the supposed chosen one. It was shock to, well everyone on board the Bounty.

It was Wednesday, so Shannon was tasked with cooking for the day. She stood, cutting vegetables for the side dish she was wiping up alongside the English breakfast she had made. Her mind was filled with ‘what if's’. As an older sister to 10 younger brothers, 4 of which that happen to be around Lloyd’s age it was startling for her. There was no telling when the 'Final Battle' will take place and what would happen during it, took the focus from the sharp edge of the blade she was holding.

"ow, damn it-" dropping the knife on the cutting board as she cursed. Bringing the cut wound to her lips she sucked on it as she searched for the bandages they kept in the kitchen just incase if kind of thing happened.

After finding bandages and bandaging the cut Shannon finished fixing up the salad. Just as she set the freshly tossed salad on the table the other residents of the ship walked in.

"Morning Shannon" "Mornin' Zane"

The other ninja mumbled a good morning as well as they took their set's at the table and began eating the breakfast prepared.

"Hay Shannon what happened to your hand?" Lloyd asked looking at the older girls hand.

"Oh, accidently cut myself." She replied placing her coffee cup down looking over at the small blonde. She ruffled his hair earning a ‘stop it’ from the boy, and chuckled at how messy his hair was now.

The rest of breakfast went without much problem seeing as how everyone was still riding down from the adrenaline that was yesterday. It all seemed peaceful still Garmadon walked in.

Shannon's POV

Garm walked in, late as usual. And as usual we where all kinda put off with what he was eating. Dark matter grubs I think there called? Never payed much attention to this sorta thing really. I just can't get the truth we uncovered yesterday. Lloyd being the green ninja. Its going to hard for him I can tell.

Letting out an tried sigh I got up with my now empty plate and made my way over to the sink.

"Shannon, the Bounty is landing in a bit. You wanna come run groceries with me?" Nya asked as I passed her.

"Uhh, sure just tell me when you're planning on leaving." "You got it!"

____

Third person POV

As stated by Nya the Bounty had landed not long after they finished washing the dishes. The boys were outside training. Shannon seated cross-legged on the steps just watching with Wu. Garmadon had disappeared back into the ship, probably his room for the time being. Lloyd was hanging around the place too, inside reading. And Nya was getting ready to head out.

It wouldn't be for another 10 minutes till Garmadon emerged from where ever he was.

And unfortunately for everyone he was at the steps of the ship leading to where the ninja were training, and felt like causing some chaos.

Now it's not the man's fault, he has the venom of an equally evil snake brooding in his veins.

He knew he couldn't mess with the ninja, it was like a principle thing seeing as how they where tolerating his presence on the ship. Wu literally came to what might have been hell to most folks and brought him back to Ninjago to save his son. Nyas off limits, and as much as he wants to, his son, Lloyd is probably still shaken from not just the green ninja thing, but the snakes as well.

Which left Shannon.

The young lady had made it clear since there first interaction, that she held nothing against the dark lord. In fact she even played along with his bullshit if she felt like it. Best part, she can hold her own too. She may not train with the boys often but she knows spinjitzu, and has proven to be a good fighter, Shans just lax and a go with the flow kind of person.

With that in mind, he decided to make a comment.

"Not going to change?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Shannon questioned, she didn't bother to look at him, as she took a swig from her tea that Wu had generously offered.

"With the amount of purple you wear you might get mistaken for a snake"

"Phff, at least I don't look like a took a bath in tar"

With that, a swift yet not powerful smack to the back of the teens head was earned. It was supposed to be playful, harmless but as the force of the hit passed through the youngers head, the sound of heavy glass hitting wood made itself known. This caused the boys to stop and turn there attention back over to the steps on the deck. As Shannon looked up, it became evidently clear she was missing her right eye.

Panic ensues.

Jay, Cole, Kai, and Zane screamed at the fact there friends eye was now just gone. Garmadons just standing there questioning if he put more power than he initially thought he did. Wu went wide eyes as he stared at the girl next to him, seeing small streams of blood leak out the now empty eye socket. Lloyd and Nya came running out to only to scream themselves.

With a sigh Shannon picked up her Eye and monical that had fallen.

"Guys, chill out!" She yelled.

"CHILL OUT! SHAN YOU EYE FEEL OUT OF YOUR HEAD" the Blue ninja yelled. Pointing at the eye in the Burnetts hand.

"Its a glass eye bolts for brain's" Shan retorted.

"Glass eye?" Cole repeated.

"Yes, a glass eye! Why did you think I wore a monocle instead of regular glasses? Sure I can't see jack with my right eye but it acts as a shield of sorts!"

"I-im so sorry, are you okay Shannon?" Garmadon asked.

"Ya, im fine" she answered.

____

After that everyone had gone inside. Zane grabbed the medical kit to disinfect and put a temporary patch over Shannon's eye. Garmadon had taken the glass eye and with the recommended disinfectant Shannon just so happen to have on her, put the bloody thing in a black glass cup filled with warm water and the disinfectant liquid mixture, to clean it. He may be the bad guy, but he's never really hurt anyone to the point they lose something like an eye.

Once done he gave the glass to Shannon who was now sitting in the armchair.

"So, umm how'd you uh- you know lose you eye?" Kai asked weirly, he feared there might be some sort of trauma along with it and didn't want to trigger it.

"You don't have to tell us!" Nya quickly added.

"Na its fine" Shannon said as she waved off there concerns.

"I was about seven when it happened. Home invasion. The guy had a gun. I had heard sound from downstairs and curiosity got the best of me. I think your all smart enough to piece together what happened next" she said. Everyone kinda relied back at the mear mental image.

"Yikes" Jay, shivered at the thought of it.

"I mean it’s not all that bad I guess. Altho I didn't have a say in whether or not I got a fake eye"

"What do you mean you didn't get a say in it?"

"It’s exactly as I say it is. When I woke up my depth perception was crap, but I had both my eyes. It wasn't until the doctor told me my parents were admit about me having one"

"So are, you like going to be ok or?"

"I'll be fine green bean, if anything this was a good thing, means I need a new one. Thankfully I shot my brother text about one lot long ago." Shannon said dismissively

"Brother?" Wu questioned.

"Okay, Nya you ready to got out?"

"Ya but it can wait-" "I'm good, I swear Nya lets go" the older girl instead as she got up and dragged Nya out the ship for their planned outing. (She put the glass with the eye in the table as they left)

"Well that was, concerning" Cole said as the two girls disappeared.

____

It was around midday the girls were not back yet. Jay was still unnerved by the eye in the cup being in such an open area, moved it over to the kitchen counter. Training was cut short because of the incident. Wu taking into account not just the mental impact of one of his charges eyes popping up in front of them, but the buildup of stuff they'd been having to deal with since his absence. Besides when the girls get back they all need to talk of a plan to get the Fang Blades back from the Serpentine before they can awaken the Devourer.

Wu and his brother where out front on the deck talking, it felt like forever to the two of them since they last spoke in such good terms. The guys (pluss Lloyd) where inside playing video games as a pass time. It wasn't long after when the sound of a car, a taxi, could be heard coming there way. As the taxi came to a stop the guys had logged off there game and stepped out to grate the return of the only two females on their team.

But instead of the raven and green tipped brunette haired, a blond tipped brunette boy stepped out the vehicle (not before paying of course) and made his way over to the Bounty.

“umm, dumb question since there aren't many flying ships around, but is this the Destiny's Bounty?” The Boy asked as he neared the ship. upon closer inspection the boy was wearing a leather jacket with a white under shirt, and jeans with a pair of black converse. He had a mailman bag slung over his shoulder.

“ya it is, what bring you all the way out here though?” Cole answered as he crossed his arms. attempting to look menacing which seemed to be working.

“uh, I came to drop something off for my sister, Shannon?” The boy answered.

“Shannon, as in the monocle waring Shan?” Jay asked

“yes! that one!”

“Cool, Cool... wanna climb on board?” Kai asked him.

“Would I!” The boy, Shannon’s brother made is way up on the Bounty.

“By the way, what you name” Zane asked as the brunet dorded.

“Shane, Shane Maywather and might I say it’s a pleasure to meet the guys my sister has been staying with after all this time.” He, Shane replied.

____

“wait, so let me get this straight” Cole stood with his hands on his head, clearly confused by what was said.

Its been about an hour since Shane was let on borde and the guy could see why his sister liked it here so much.

“there are 10 of you? including Shane makes 11″ Cole sated. Shane just nodded as he let the earth ninja racape what Shane had told them. Wu and Garmadon where in the kitchen intently listening to the conversation they were having.

“yup, Shan and I are the oldest, there where are the quads; Jason, Mayson, Tyson, Carson.” He started again listing his younger siblings.

“Then the triplets; Asher, Carter and Xavier. Then the last set of twins; Franklyn and Merlyn” Shane finished.

“No wonder Shannon can deal with us so well” Jay said looking astonished.

“ya she had to deal with 9 younger brothers and one older one” Kai remarked. Shane snickered before correcting him.

“Shannon is the oldest, in fact despite us being twins, she’s technically a year older than me.”

“But isn't being twins, like two people being born on the same day?” Zane inquired.

“True, but you see, my mom had Shannon on december 31st 1995, at around 11:55pm, I then happened on january 1st 1996 at 00:02am in the morning” Shane explained.

“dude” Jay commented. Shane laghed.

“yup,Shannons the ‘big sister’ of the house” He said glancing about.

“i'm surprised though, i though Shannon would have at least mentioned something about you guys to us” Lloyd pipped in. He enjoyed Shannons company she made him feel welcome. And when she caught him setting up the prank for Kai as his uncle had asked him to, she gave him some pointers on how to eviscerate Kai’s high score. Even took some pressure off him as she stayed in the room in anticipation for the fire ninja so they wouldn't get too suspicious. To learn Shan had several younger brothers, like Jay commented, meade scene in how she was not only dealt with them but was able to deal with his father so well.

“Honestly,it's do be expected. Because Shannons the oldest our parents are hard on her... We come from a fairly well of family to the point where money is more or less a play thing to our folks” Shane started, the ninja(pluss Loyd)went wide eyed.

“so you're saying you guys are rich?” Jay asked dumbfounded. Shane fidgeted with his fingers.

“Y-Ya pretty much. But Shannon, and our parents, they... They don't get along at all. For all i can remember, the only time i've ever had with Shan was when she wasn't in any of her classes or extracurriculars. They pushed her to be perfect, and at the same time pushed her away. Looking back there where countless arguments over a lot of what they where doing” Shane said looking down at his lap.

“There was this one argument that just hit the nail in the head though, a couple years back, it was during dinner and our parents had invited a business associates family over. They had a son, about three years older then Shannon and I. Our parents had announced that he would be Shannons fiance and thighs went downhill fast” Looking up once more Shane let a had run though his hair as he relieved the memory. The guys were taken aback by this, seeing as how Shan was arguably one of the most level headed people they knew.

“sounds stressful” Kai quipped not really knowing how to respond to that, bur as a brother to a sister himself he could understand the feeling of not wanting your sibling to do be forced into doing something they don't want to.

“You don’t half of it” Shan said with a sigh.

“After that, she stormed out never to be seen scene again. At least physically, she managed to keep contact with me, we talk but not as much as either of us would like...” He finished leaning back and letting the surprisingly soft couch engulf him.

“I’m glad though,she deserves a break after everything” Shane commented.

“ya well if you call fighting an army of skeletons, snakes and eventually Garmadon a brake, then you my friend are in need of a vacation as well” Jay replied plopping down next to Shane with a dorky grin. The tenshin that had been building in Shane dissipated, yup he could really see why his sister liked it here so much.

____

Dropping the topic of who much his and Shannon's parents where that talked about other random things. It was a little bit later when the girl got back. The two where catting about, something girl related when they walked into the main room of the Bounty.

“Hey! Welcome back! And guess how came to visit?!” Jay sang, gesturing to Shane who was seated next to him. Shannon looked over at her bother in shock she thought-

"Good to see you again Sister!~" Shane said as be bolted form where he was sitting to envelope Shannon in a hug. As he did Shannon dropped the bags she was holding, seemingly shocked that her blood brother was here.

“Shane?” She breathed, then hugged him back, leaning into it.

After a bit the two separated.

“It’s good to see you again Shane! How have you been?” “Good, good, what about you? what happened to your eye? Where is it?”

Shan laughed a little and shook her head.

“There was an accident this morning, Garmadon hit the back of my head and it just popped out” Shane stood still. Taking in the information. Once complete he turned and tried to lunged to where Garmadon was, if it wasn't for Shannon having grabbed him in that split second. He probably would have gone into a full on fist fight with the dark lord.

“Lemme go! I'm going to eviscerate him!” Shane hissed struggling against his sisters grip. Thank the First Spinjitzu Master that Shannon trained with the boys ocashinaly.

“Calm down little brother it was an accident” “Like HELL”

The two go back and forth a little more till Shane camls down. Garmadon rightfully spooked at the fact that this, well mannered, e-boy looking, kid was threatened to ‘eviscerate’ him.

“Fine, I won’t attack him, doesn't mean I won’t like it” Shane said mutting that last bit.

“Seriously (1)Balach Milis, if you applied this anger properly, you wouldn't have to deal with what Eric and Lizzibeth right?” Shannon said as she let him go. picking up the grocery bags, and placed them on the counter.

“(2)Flùr Gaoithe, you know when it comes to Mama and (3)Athair I can’t do do that!” He complained like a small child.

“You really need to grow a backbone” Shane said shaking her head.

___

Things had settled down since then.

“It’s getting late, I should get going, I have band practice tomorrow and need the rest.” “boo, skip and just stay here for the week” “Flùr Gaoithe” “Balach Milis“

With that The younger twin got up, gave his sister the new glass eye she had asked for, said his goodbyes, shot Garmadon one last glar, and left.

“Your brother seems like a nice person” Gramadon said looking over the the greet tipped girl.

“Ya, he’s awesome. Wish he was less of a pushover tho”

Jay feeling thirsty, walked over into the kitchen. He spotted the black glass cup, completely having forgot about the eye inside it. Now you can't really see anything at the bottom. And Jay, in his infinite wisdom, thinking it was just some random cup of random water that had been left on the kitchen counter, and drank from it.

“OH GOD”

“Did Jay drink from the eye glass?” Lloyd asked his uncle who was watching from the blue ninja form the table.

“He drank from the eye glass” Wu confirmed. The others erupted into a fit of laughter and giggles.

__________

(1)Balach Milis - Sweet boy

(2)Flùr Gaoithe - Wind flower

(3)Athair - dad

this was translated using google translate, the language being Scottish Gaelic. I know Ninjago was based off of asian culture. But like I said, Shan it scottish for unfortunate and unfair. Also nothing in the lore of the show explicitly states that Ninjago is the only continent on the planet.

I HC that there are different parts of the world. its safe to say Ninjago is the main land where a lot of the exciting things happen, but across who knows how long away there are different countries. And Shannon’s family like immigrated to Ninjago, during it’s early years where big contributors and financial support, in building the city.

but ye this is a mini sode, i came up with. criticism is always welcome! I will be doing bullet notes for Shan and Melody, and maye Gold to since i have an active fic about her that i haven't updated in, forever but yaaaaa.

till next text post i guess lol

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninja #ninjago original character #ninjago oc #original chacter #ninjago fanfiction

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chaoticqueertiefling · 6 years

Text

Waking the Lions

Part 1

The hanger doors hissed shut behind Lance as he walked towards the control room. Sweat splattered as he removed his helmet and he could hear a conversation up ahead. With a lack of trust in Lotor, Lance had done a quick perimeter check before joining the rest on the castleship. Something in his gut was twisting; something that showed up right after Shiro invited Lotor aboard. Lance had hoped for a protest from Allura, but she had remained quiet.

He stepped onto the deck to greet the others and the conversation hushed.

"Lance, you can relax, the princess, Coran and I are questioning Lotor." Shiro's arms were crossed over his chest. Allura stood beside him, still in her paladin armor.

"I thought we'd all be here as a team, y’know, since we just evaded death." The blue paladin crossed his arms to match Shiro.

Shiro shook his head. "The princess and I both agreed that you kids could use a break. Pidge and Hunk are with Matt in the lounge and I believe Keith mentioned he'd be on the training deck."

Lance met his leader’s gaze with unease. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean,” he paused and gave Lotor a stare, “We don’t know what his motives are.” He relaxed when Allura placed her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay Lance, it’s part of being a diplomat. He just saved us. We can at least hear his side of everything that has been going on.”

He wanted to protest, but he knew he couldn’t change her mind. Lance nodded and forced a smile on his face. He winked at Allura and turned to walk out and join the others.

"See you later, Blue Paladin." Lance could hear the smirk on Lotor's face as he uttered that horrible greeting. He pondered for a moment if he should stay with Allura, an extra paladin wouldn’t hurt to keep her safe, but he shook it off knowing Shiro would protect her if needed. On the other hand, his gut was hoping Shiro would.

Lance found Pidge, Hunk and Matt catching up and playing Killbot Phantasm I in the lounge. Cushions were strewn about, some close to knocking drinks over, and a bowl of a popcorn substitute lay tipped over next to Pidge’s foot. He noticed two sets of paladin armor strewn in the corner of the room, left to be put away later.

"I can't believe you found this game, Pidge!" Matt cried out moving his body with his controller.

"Lance actually helped me get it while we were at the Space Mall." She punched forward as Matt killed a monster, knocking the popcorn bowl over entirely. “We waded through a fountain trying to find enough GAC.”

“If you’re going to tell that story, at least tell it right.” Lance stepped into the room and the door slid shut behind him. He set his helmet down and walked around to see the screen. “How I jumped out of the fountain and caught the last piece we needed in midair.”

Matt paused the game and looked up at Lance. "Thanks for taking care of Pidge while I was away, though she's proved herself capable of taking care of herself." He laughed some. “She nearly kicked my ass when she found me.” He laughed more before Pidge elbowed him in the side.

“Nearly? I DID kick your ass.” She reached over and stole the controller from Matt and unpaused the game.

“I’m glad Pidge has you as a friend.” Matt leaned back on the couch and stretched.

"Lance is a great friend like that, always helping us out." Hunk chimed in. “There was this one time, at the Garrison where-“ Lance cut him off.

"You're nicer than me Hunk, always cooking up grub and putting others before yourself. Like for Shay and her family on the Balmera." Lance returned Hunks smile and laughed some at his blush at the mention of Shay's name.

“Hunk’s got a girlfriend,” A grin formed on Pidge’s face as Hunk’s face flushed entirely red.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he stuttered out. He rubbed the back of his neck and diverted his gaze from the group. “Just a really good friend, who also happens to be a girl, and really cute and I really miss seeing her…”

“A girlfriend,” Pidge teased.

Lance patted Hunk on the head. “I’m sure you’ll see her again before you know it, buddy.” He gave his friend a reassuring smile and headed for the door. "I think I'm going to check on Keith before I change,” He paused when the group gave him a look. “Just to tell him how awesome of a team we are and that he’s missing out on a lot."

Pidge and Hunk exchanged a quick glance and Matt got out of his seat.

"There's something you need to know."

Keith ducked from the sword the gladiator wielded. He slashed back but it managed to move out of the way. Keith prepared to block as the gladiator went in for another strike, but its head was shot off and the gladiator disappeared. Keith looked over to see a stressed out Lance standing in the doorway with his Bayard drawn.

Lance stepped into the training deck, "End simulation." He stood in place, Bayard pointed towards Keith.

"Lance what is going on? I was training." Keith's voice wavered on confusion and frustration. The events of earlier still weighing heavy on him and training with the gladiator was helping, some. Lance ignored his question and shot at Keith, who dodged to the side, watching some pieces of his hair drop the ground.

"What the hell, Lance?" Keith's frustration grew as he dodged another shot. He ran forward and slashed at the blue paladin. Lance sidestepped and shot again, landing on the shoulder piece of Keith's Blade of Marmora armor, scorching it.

A growl escaped the red paladin's throat as he slashed again, nearly missing the top of Lance's head as he dropped to a knee and aimed. Keith, however, was ready and kicked the blue paladin in the chest, sending him onto his back. Keith brought his bade down, but it was stopped by Lance's Bayard.

"Why are you attacking me?"

"Because you tried to kill yourself!" Lance brought his leg up and rolled himself and Keith over, straddling the red paladin and pointing his Bayard in his face.

"I was trying to save everyone!" Keith grabbed his old Bayard and yanked Lance off of him, sending the blue paladin rolling on the floor. He hopped up with his blade tight in his grip when a scorching heat knocked it from his hand and across the floor. Keith looked over to see Lance lying on his stomach, Bayard pointed at him.

"What if you didn't succeed?"

"What if I did?" Keith dashed forward and, to Lance's surprise, jumped over him, reached around and grabbed the Bayard, pulling it back against the blue paladin's neck.

"We would have lost a friend," Lance choked out. He butted his head backwards and into Keith's face. The red paladin felt warm blood ooze from his nose, but he didn't loosen his grip.

"But Voltron would still be around. I was willing to sacrifice myself for the greater cause."

"That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard. Did you really think your tiny galra fighter could break through that particle barrier? That your life was worth sacrificing before anyone else died?" Lance hunched and threw Keith on the floor in front of him. He kicked the Bayard out of the red paladin's reach. "Why are you being so reckless?"

Keith wiped his arm across his nose and stood to face Lance. "Why do you care? I thought we were rivals."

"Because you're our friend, you're MY friend. You're part of our family. We're all in this war together. We need to stand strong, and losing one of us is like... like losing a vital part of who we are." Lance turned and walked over to his Bayard. Keith got ready to fight, but the blue paladin picked up the weapon and walked out of the training deck, leaving him alone.

Lance dropped on his bed and looked around his empty room. It seemed so much bigger now that the Mercury Gameflux II and everything it was attached to were no longer taking up space.

He removed the chest piece of his armor when he heard a knock on his door. Thinking it might've been Hunk, he called for them to come in. When the door slid open, Keith stepped in, his blade tucked neatly on his lower back.

"What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, and not be fighting when we do. Why so hostile all of a sudden?" Keith walked over and stood closer to Lance, letting the door slide shut behind him.

"I'm fine, nothing is wrong." He tried to force a smile, but this time his muscles wouldn’t work for him.

"You're obviously not fine. You seem very unlike yourself. Maybe you should go talk to Shiro-"

"Shiro is part of the problem." Lance cupped his mouth and looked wide eyed to Keith. The red paladin's eyebrow twitched, but he shook it off.

"If you're concerned about the team, you should talk to him because he's the leader."

"I want to talk to you... because I think you'd understand better." Lance looked down at his hands. "But if you really think I should talk to Shiro..."

Keith sighed and plopped on the bed next to Lance. "Alright, spill." Since when did he become the one Lance talked to?

The blue paladin paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts together. Keith sat patiently, feeling tension rise.

“First, I’d like to ask you again why you decided to try and kill yourself.” Lance’s gaze was stuck to his hands resting in his lap.

Keith was taken back, but he gathered his thoughts and let out a deep sigh. “There was a bomb, the coalition was hanging on a thread, and nothing could get through that barrier. I had to try something. The life of one verses the life of many.”

A sigh escaped the blue paladin and his forehead creased some. “We both know your ship was too small to do any significant damage.”

Keith was silent. Lance was right about that. But did he truly know why he even attempted it? He knew then his ship was too small. Lance knows the ship was too small. A little thought creeped its way into Keith’s mind, something that he didn’t realize until he actually thought about it.

“I didn’t want to see or hear anyone die before me. I didn’t want to be alone again.”

Lance held his breath for a moment. The sincerity in Keith’s voice was so real, something he heard once before.

He didn’t realize how much time passed since Keith had answered, and was pulled out by the red paladin’s voice. “Hey, say something. I just gave you an answer that even I didn’t know.”

“Sorry,” Lance muttered, “I kind of spaced out.”

“You are in outer space.”

A joke? Did Keith just make a joke? Lance looked up to see the red paladin giving him a soft smile.

“Right,” a small smile showed up on Lance’s own face. “Look, I’m sorry you, had the thought of losing everyone. But as long as we stick together, no one will be alone. We are the paladins of Voltron, and even though you’re training with the blade, you’re still one of us.”

Keith nodded and silence filled the room again. Lance watched his eyes as they soaked in what he said. “Yeah, I guess so.” He made eye contact with the blue paladin. “What else do you want to talk about?”

Respecting Keith wanting to change the subject, Lance thought about how to word his next concern.

“You need to come back and fly the Black Lion.”

“Shiro’s the pilot of the Black Lion. I’ll never be as good as him.”

“No.” Lance raised his voice a little louder than intended, startling Keith. “You’re better than him. At least, you are better than the current Shiro. Keith…” Lance tried to clutch the fabric of his pants, only to feel his fingers slide along his armor. “I don’t think he’s our Shiro.”

Silence again.

This time Lance was too afraid to look at Keith. He knew how the red paladin felt about the Garrison pilot. He didn’t understand their relationship, but he knew there was something there. And here he was, saying the ‘Shiro’ that Keith worked so hard to find, wasn’t the real Shiro. What had he done?

“I thought I was the only one,” Keith muttered out, barely audible. Lance looked up to see Keith diverting his attention to Pidge’s headphones sitting next to Lance’s pillow. “I just thought, maybe I had higher expectations and forgot how he really was. I was so determined, so, happy that I found him that I overlooked things that weren’t right.”

“Keith…”

“But then he was able to fly Black. I don’t think she’d let him pilot her if he wasn’t the real Shiro. He’s just a little hardened by this war. So these minor things I’m noticing, that I guess you noticed too. They’re nothing.”

“Keith.” Lance’s voice was stern. “When you took Shiro’s spot as the pilot of Black, which is what he wanted anyways, you became our leader. You filled his shoes.”

“I can’t replace Shiro.”

“You did better, especially now. Shiro doesn’t listen to us. He does what he thinks is right. You noticed it when he was directing us from the castle, remember? I could tell you didn’t like it.”

“That doesn’t count. I’m not meant to be a leader and he was directing me.” Keith jumped when Lance stood up and turned to face him.

“It wasn’t his job to direct you. You were doing what you thought was best, and to be honest, I agreed with what you were trying to do. Now that Lotor is here. On the ship. Where we keep the lions.” Lance began to pace. “That bomb? When those pillars came out of the ground, I wanted to leave. You know that gut feeling. Yeah, I had that. But he didn’t listen. And we got trapped there.” His pacing picked up. “And don’t say ‘if you didn’t get trapped you wouldn’t have known it was a bomb’ yeah we would’ve figured it out. At least Pidge would’ve. She’s good at that stuff.” Lance stopped when he ran into Keith, who gripped his hands and held them still.

“If you clench your hands too much they might cramp, and that’s no good for a sharpshooter.” Keith stepped back from Lance some, but continued to hold his hands still. “You don’t know that for sure. I mean, even if you escaped, and the bomb did explode, half, if not all the coalition would’ve been destroyed.” He took a breath. “You can never be certain of anything in war. You need to calm down.”

Lance pulled his hands back and let them drop to his sides. He took a deep breath. “Keith, I need to know what you think. What if he’s not our Shiro?”

The red paladin diverted his eyes. “I think, it’s just stress that’s causing him to act a little different.”

With a nod, the blue paladin sat back down on his bed. “Thank you, for coming to talk to me. I feel better about the things that were on my mind.” He threw on a smile and looked at Keith.

The red paladin nodded and moved towards the door. “I guess if you need to talk again, I’ll be here for a couple days until there’s a new plan.” The door slid open, and Keith stepped out. Once the door closed, Lance leaned back on his bed and stared at the white ceiling.

“I think I know what I have to do.”

End Part 1

Hey guys! Sorry it’s a week late! I wrote some extra to Part 1 to make up for it. (It kinda got a little out of hand XD)

The inspirational song for this is Waking Lions by Pop Evil

The other two songs were mentioned in an earlier post, here.

#VLD #Klance #Pop Evil #This is no where near done #Carried away #Fanfic

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