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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

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Phantom Children [DP x Batman Crossover] Ch. 1

Disclaimer: It's been a while since I watched DP and the only Batman/DC stuff I've interacted with are B:TAS, the JL cartoons, and what I got from fandom osmosis so don't expect any sort of canon compliance.

In Which: the author takes advantage of the passage of time in Nanda Parbat being wonky and Danny doesn't give up, per se, but is sort of resigned to being stuck with the League of Assassins until further notice.

AO3 | Prologue | [ 1 ] | 2 |

CW for descriptions of non-consensual drug use (if there's anything you guys would like me to tag, please tell me)

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WHEN SOMETHING WENT WRONG WITH DANNY’S LIFE, it was usually because of one or two things: Ghosts or Vlad. And considering their truce and how even Vlad wouldn’t go this far (at least, Danny hoped), Danny was kidnapped because of ghosts. Or his association with ghosts.

Though how an organization of ninja-assassins got wind of his ‘unique’ circumstance was beyond him. The shackles they slapped on his wrists were more a formality than anything after the second time he tried to escape them with intangibility. The only reason they managed to get him contained the entire trip from Amity Park to wherever the fuck Nanda Parbat lay was because of the cocktail of drugs they pumped into his system spiked with blood blossoms.

Danny had to give it to them. The League of Assassins might not have any anti-ecto weaponry, but they did their homework.

He barely remembered the trip. He catches flashes—blurry figures and words he couldn’t comprehend. A warm hand holding his, a thumb rubbing smooth circles on the back of his palm and calloused fingers running through his hair.

When he awoke, it was in a room bigger than his bedroom. His ankle was shackled to a bedpost, and the only door leading out was locked. There was a separate room for the bathroom off to the side and a shelf stacked with books decorating the otherwise bare walls, but other than that there wasn’t much else. Not even windows.

Intangibility, he learned, wasn’t an option. The blood blossoms in his bloodstream were still in circulation, rendering his transformation useless. If his nose was right, his captors were pumping blood blossoms from the vents. The sickly sweet of the flower was faint in the cool air, but the slight red haze that persisted in the room was unmistakable.

He tried, regardless. The rings barely made it half-way before his knees buckled and he started retching all over the floor. At least his stomach was empty.

-------

Danny doesn’t know how long he’s been in Nanda Parbat. Time moved differently here. Faster, he thought. He doesn’t really understand how or why, though sometimes he wondered what Clockwork thought of all of this.

(There are times, in the darkness and solitude of his cell, when Danny would call for Clockwork to rescue him. Quietly, so quietly, it was barely even a whisper. But Clockwork would hear it—Danny was sure he would. Clockwork helped him out before, so this time shouldn’t be all that different. But at the end of the night, nothingness would answer him. And Danny had to learn over and over again that even the Ghost of Time had his own rules to follow.)

It had taken a few days and Talia nearly biting the head off of the League’s physician for them to realize that blood blossoms would be an awful way to contain him. Effective at immobilizing him, yes, but the flowers left him about as helpless as Superman in a kryptonite cave.

“It all works out in the end,” Talia would say. “The blossoms were never going to become a long-term solution; you might end up developing an immunity to them given enough exposure.”

Though knowing now what Talia’s ‘long-term plan’ was for making sure Danny didn’t slip through the walls of the headquarters and fly across the ocean, Danny would rather take his chances with the blood blossoms.

Danny might not have been as smart as Vlad, but he was tricky and creative when he needed to be. He knows he’s powerful. And sure, he might forget some of his own abilities every now and then, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use them. In the time he’s been stuck in the Leage’s lair (and coherent), Danny had thought of a dozen escape plans, each one with a high chance of success. If he made an attempt, he could guarantee the League wouldn’t notice until he was a quarter-way across the globe.

Escaping wasn’t the problem. That would be the easy part.

His core burned at the thought of it. And it hurt—as if his entire being was dunked in a vat of dry ice and left to freeze. He hated how he was here and everything that he was protecting was far. Away.

Danny wanted to go home. Wanted to read comic books in his bed, play Doom with Tucker and Sam, sleep in class and make fun of the Box Ghost. He wants to eat his mom’s food, even if there’s a fifty-fifty chance that it would come alive and try to eat him instead. He wants to listen to Jazz try to psychoanalyze his problems. Wants to go fishing with his dad and eat his famous chocolate fudge. Wants to fly above the skies of Amity Park and touch what little he can of the universe before he’s called down again.

Amity Park is his haunt. His Home. The soft hum of the Ghost Portal in the basement a lullaby he’s listened to for so long that sleeping without it was next to impossible. Every fiber of his being craved to go back because how is he supposed to protect Amity if he isn’t there?

But to go back meant sacrificing everyone.

Danny doesn’t risk it.

(The—the last time was an accident. If Danny isn’t—if he isn’t careful, this time it may be an assassination. He refused to have his family’s death on his hands again.)

He has faith in Sam, Tucker, and Jazz to hold down the fort until he could find a way to escape. They’re smart. Smarter than him. They’ll work something out and—in a worst-case scenario, they’ll find a way to shut down the Ghost Portal to stop the ghosts from coming through.

Logic meant nothing to his ghost core, though. The next best thing to do was to drown out his worries with the League’s rigorous education.

Hand-to-hand and weapons combat. Geography. History. Dozens of foreign languages. Poisons and herbology and basic first-aid. His days are packed with new things to learn and to repeat until it’s drilled into his skull so deep he could recite the information in his sleep. (Hyosycamus niger, aka Henbane. Every part is highly toxic and can cause dizziness, stupor, insanity, and eventual death. It’s medicinal uses range from--)

The League demanded perfection. The Demon’s Head demanded even more than that.

Talia oversaw his education. Sometimes, there would be another, older, man by her side, observing his regimen with cold calculation. Whenever that man arrived, Danny’s instructors were always stricter.

His teachers made little effort to interact with him outside of their set schedule, and during his lessons they only ever answer pertinent questions. He supposed there would be other students of the League in Nanda Parbat, but he’s seen neither hide nor hair of them. His rooms (a bedroom + bathroom combo that led out into a large indoor space for training) are separate from everything else.

Danny slept alone, ate alone, and trained alone. And for a boy who has had his two best friends stuck to his side like glue for as long as he could remember, it’s a terribly lonely experience.

His shadow guards don’t count. They might as well be another piece of furniture. Another stone in the wall.

-------

Talia was the only one that broke his new mundane routine, as much as she was the cause of it. She was his only source of companionship in this hell hole; the only one who would really speak to him. And yeah, he knew why that was. Jazz had rambled on enough about Stockholm syndrome to know that this ‘arrangement’ was Talia’s attempts at forging a bond between them. But godit’s just so hard to be stuck inside your own mind all day when. It made him think too much. Worry. (Whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif).

And then—

And then.

Danny had asked Talia a multitude of questions, but only two did she ever answer. Both asked when he was still trying to flush the drug cocktail and the blood blossoms from his system.

The first was when he asked, “Why am I here?” She answered that it was because Ra’s al Ghul, her father, wanted him. He had knowledge the Demon’s Head wanted; powers that Ra’s could only ever dream of. The man was curious—though Talia assured him over and over again that Danny wouldn’t be vivisected and studied for science.

The second answer came right after when Danny asked her “How could you be so sure?”

Talia smiled. Lacquered fingers coming up to brush away the dark strands that fell over his face. Her hands traced the curve of his jaw, cupping his cheeks to raise his eyes to hers. “Because you are my son,” she said, voice honey sweet.

He jerked from her hold.

Burned by it.

“You’re lying,” he spat. “I’m already someone else’s son. Try again.”

Talia let her hands drop to her sides. “You are my son.” She took a step closer towards him. Steady. Firm. “That is why you are here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

A pitying smile. “Be that as it may, you cannot change the truth.” She approached him, slowly backing him against the wall before she reached out to tilt his chin upwards. Some traitorous part of Danny’s mind catalogued her features. Made connections that shouldn’t exist. “I have carried you in my womb, Daniel. You were a part of me for so very long and I loved you more with each passing day. You are of my body and of my blood—not matter how much you may deny it.”

“No.” He pushed her hands away and raked his hands over his hair. “You’re lying.” She must be. They don’t look alike. Not at all. Everyone always said he was his dad’s—Jack Fenton’s—exact copy. Black haired and blue eyed and sharp-jawed. Awkward but well-meaning and with a heart of gold, his mother said. It was once of the facts of life; Danny took after his dad, and Jazz took after their mom. Simple as that.

(There is a memory resurfacing from his early childhood that Danny is desperately trying to repress again. Memories of kids teasing him on the playground, innocently cruel in the way only children can be as they tried to convince him he was adopted. That his skin looked nothing like his parents’. Dusky where his parents and sister were fair. He went home crying to his parents that same day, and they soothed away his worries with hushed words and a well-timed distraction.)

He asked no more questions after that. Talia was lying to him for some reason, and no answer she could give would be trustworthy anyways. What little of him he could see in her was only a figment of his own imagination. His mind playing cruel tricks.

Then his hopes were dashed aside when Talia showed him a picture of his father a day later.

The man in the photo looked like him. Black haired and eyes the same shade of too-bright blue. There were differences, of course. The man in the photograph was fairer, unlike Danny. He was taller and broader where Danny was lean and lanky. But despite this and all the other minute differences, this man who was supposed to be Danny’s biological father looked like him.

The same slant of the brow. The same shape of the eyes. The way the man held himself with this sense of gravitas and power that Danny couldn’t yet do in his awkward teenage years but had seen before. In a monster another man.

Danny’s future self was terrifying in its inhumanity, but it didn’t take that much of an imagination to know that he looked almost exactly like the man in the picture.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #cw; drug use #phantom children.txt

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losingmymindtonight · 5 years

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Whumptober: Unconscious

AN: Whumptober is just me seeing how quickly I can write something. It’s not quality, nor is it quantity, but it sure is fic. That’s about all I’ve got in me.

The alert went off just after 3:00 am.

Which was, as a general rule, not one of Tony’s favorite times to get alerts.

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled him from his hyperfocus on the exposed circuitry in front of him, “I have detected strange anomalies in Peter Parker’s vitals.”

He looked up in surprise. “What time is it?”

“3:03 am.”

He blinked. “And why the fuck is the kid in the suit at 3:00 am? It’s a school night. His curfew is 11:00.”

“Mister Parker is not in the suit. My readings are coming from the biotech in his watch.”

Okay. That… that wasn’t exactly ideal.

“What are the anomalies?”

“Mister Parker’s heart rate is unusually elevated and his blood oxygen levels appear to be rapidly decreasing.”

Did the kid go on patrol without his suit? Tony was going to kill him. “Where is he?”

“In his bed.”

Wait, what?

“Are you… are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck? F.R.I.D.A.Y., track his phone.”

There was a pause as the AI completed the request. Then,

“It appears to be on the table beside his bed, Boss.”

“Call him. Now.”

“Of course.”

The sound of the phone ringing filled the lab. Tony pushed away his project. He had more important things to worry about now.

The phone kept ringing.

And ringing.

Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. Peter Parker is not available. At the tone, please record your message. When you finish recording you may hang up, or press 1 for more-

“Push the call through, FRI.”

“Yes, Boss.”

There was a brief rush of static, and then quiet.

If he listened really, really hard, he could just barely make out the sound of someone breathing.

“Peter?” The kid must be asleep (or unconscious), because there wasn’t any answer. He tried again, louder. “Peter!”

He heard the rustle of sheets, then a huff of confusion.

“Mis’er St’rk?”

“Thank god, you’re alive. You had me wondering there for a minute.”

“Huh? Where’re you?”

He blinked. “Try your phone, bud.”

“Wha’? Why’re you in my ph’ne?”

No, no, no, no, no. The spark of concern that had settled at the sound of the kid’s voice lit right back up, bright and sharp. This was a serious step above you-just-woke-me-up-and-I’m-still-half-asleep confusion. This was… that was something much, much worse.

“I-I’m not. I called you, Pete.”

“Called me?”

“Mhm. Are you alright? F.R.I.D.A.Y. says your vitals went wonky and you seem… a little out of it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’ feel good.”

He sat up straighter on the bench, hands clenching with fear. He’d known something was wrong before, but hearing the kid admit it only gave purchase to the panic. “What do you mean?”

“Feel weird.”

“Define weird.”

“Dunno. Head hurts. Feel sick.”

Tony blinked. “FRI? Does he have a fever?”

“No, Boss. Although Mister Parker’s O2 levels are dropping low enough to be an imminent concern.”

He leapt to his feet. A little early morning trip to Queens wouldn’t kill him. Who needed sleep, anyway? “Pete? I’m coming over, okay? Can you get up and wake May?”

“Not here.”

“May isn’t there?”

“No. Graveyard shift.”

“Okay. Okay. That’s alright. I’m gonna come take care of you. Just keep talking to me.” The suit folded around him and F.R.I.D.A.Y. flipped the call to his heads up display without being prompted. “Do you feel like you’re gonna throw up?”

“Mhm.”

“If you need to, just do it. I’ll clean it up later.”

“M’kay.”

“Good boy.” He rushed out onto the roof and shot into the air. He was so hasty in his takeoff that he had to quickly correct his trajectory with his thrusters, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Did you feel sick before you went to sleep?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright.” He muted himself and finally let the panic seep through his voice. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? What the fuck is wrong with him? Is it the flu?”

“The flu does not usually involve such a rapid drop in oxygen levels.”

“Then what’s wrong with him?”

“My sources indicate-”

“Those sources better not be WebMD.”

“They are not.” If Tony didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded offended. “As I was saying: my sources indicate that Mister Parker is likely suffering from a drug allergy. However, it is also possible that the symptoms are the precursor to an epileptic episode or a brain hemorrhage.”

“Why the fuck would he have a brain hemorrhage?”

“Considering Mister Parker’s age, state of health, and activity level, the most likely cause would be trauma. Until I can run a more in-depth scan, your best course of action would be to continue assessing his mental status.”

He switched his audio back on, nodding as if F.R.I.D.A.Y. needed his confirmation. “Hey, buddy. You still with me?”

“Mhm.”

“Good job. Hey, I have some questions to ask you, and it’s really important that you answer them honestly. I swear I won’t get mad.”

“M’kay.”

“Did you go on patrol earlier? Without the suit?”

“No.”

“Do you promise?”

“Mhm.”

“So no injuries I should know about?”

“No.”

“Did you take medicine before you went to sleep? Ibuprofen? Anything?”

“No.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright. Have you ever had a seizure, Pete?”

“Wha’?” That question seemed to wake the kid up a bit. “No. Why?”

“I’m just checking. How do you feel?”

Peter seemed to contemplate that for a second.

“‘M... ‘M really tired, Mis’er Stark.”

“No. Nope. Stay awake, okay? I don’t know what's wrong with you yet.”

“Somethin’s wrong wi’ me?”

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. “Yeah, buddy. You told me you didn’t feel good. Remember?”

“Mm. Oh, yeah. I really don’ feel good.”

“I know. I’m,” he glanced at the ETA F.R.I.D.A.Y. helpfully threw up on the screen, “I’m three minutes away from you. Hang on.”

“M’kay.”

There was something impossibly frightening about having something wrong with Peter and not knowing what. He’d had to get used to the idea of the kid getting hurt on patrol, rolling into the Tower clutching a bleeding wound or a broken bone. It was an uncomfortable truth, but one he’d learned to assimilate into his life.

But this… this was exponentially more frightening. This was something happening to Peter, not Spider-Man. He could sew up bullet wounds and cast broken bones. He couldn’t fix something he couldn’t even diagnose.

God, he hated being stuck in the dark.

“Can you tell me more about what’s wrong, kiddo?” Honestly, he didn’t really expect to learn anything useful. He was just trying to keep Peter as lucid as possible until he could get there. “What feels bad?”

“Head.”

“Your head hurts?”

“Mhm.”

He could see Peter’s apartment complex now. Every inch closer made his heart rate climb. “Anything else?”

“Dunno. ‘M just… tired.”

“Alright. Remember what I said, though, right? No sleeping.”

“No sleepin’.”

“That’s it. Good boy.” He landed on the fire escape outside Peter’s room with the discordant clatter of metal on metal. It was loud enough to be unwanted at 3:00 in the goddamn morning, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’m here, bud.”

“Took a long time.”

Don’t I know it, kid.

He ended up climbing through the window into Peter’s room. There was a part of him that nearly went into the main entrance and took the elevator to the apartment (May had given him a spare key, so he could’ve just let himself in), but the half-panicked ball of worry in his chest convinced him otherwise.

“Pete?”

The lump on the bed shifted. “Mis’er Stark?”

He rushed to the kid’s side, metal-clad knees knocking into wooden floors as he knelt beside the low-slung mattress. “Hey, squirt. Told you I was coming.”

Suddenly, an alert, red and flashing and impossible to ignore, exploded onto his heads up display.

WARNING: DANGEROUS LEVELS OF CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTED DO NOT REMOVE HELMET INITIALIZING OXYGEN RESERVES OXYGEN RESERVES INITIALIZED

He froze in realization.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Mister Parker’s symptoms match those of carbon monoxide poisoning, although it is notoriously difficult to diagnose without context. There is likely a leak somewhere in the building.”

“What do I-”

“It is advised to remove Mister Parker from the contaminated area and into fresh air as quickly as possible. I have notified emergency services. They should arrive within five minutes to assist the other residents.”

At some point during his hurried conversation with F.R.I.D.A.Y., Peter’s eyes had fallen shut. He didn’t move when Tony pressed his gauntlet against his shoulder. He shook him, first gently and then with more vigor, and the kid just stayed limp.

“Pete?” Nothing. Shit. “Alright. Don’t worry about it, kiddo, I’ve got it handled.” He tore Peter’s comforter away in a manner that definitely did not denote I’ve got it handled, but he supposed it didn’t really matter when Peter was unconscious. “I’m gonna pick you up now, okay? We’re going on a little trip.”

Peter offered no resistance when Tony scooped him up. And, fuck, the kid was heavy. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the kid was 5’8” of pure muscle.

Pure muscle that was now a complete deadweight.

Great.

He clambered onto the fire escape with a lot more grace than he’d really expected. Then again, he had the added motivation of not wanting to jostle the precious cargo cradled to his chestplate. As he went, he found himself babbling nonsensically to the kid.

“It’s all gonna be fine. I’m gonna take you back to the Tower and pump you full of oxygen. That’ll be nice, yeah? And I’ll call May, tell her that you can both bunk at the Tower until the leak gets solved. It’ll be great. You love sleepovers.”

Peter didn’t twitch during the flight back to the Tower, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t alert him to any worsening vitals, so he did his best to focus through it. He didn’t waste time taking the suit off when he landed on the roof, just headed straight for the MedBay.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” He called, skidding his way into one of the MedBay rooms. “What do I do? Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

“He needs oxygen, Boss.”

He felt like screaming. “He’s getting oxygen.”

“Not enough.”

He deposited Peter onto the bed in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs. His lips were tinged with blue, just slightly, and the sight made Tony feel like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen himself.

“Sorry, sorry.” He winced in sympathy as the kid’s head lolled unnaturally against the plastic mattress. “I’ll make you comfy when you can breathe, kiddo, sorry…”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimed in before he could even process that he needed her help. “The oxygen tanks are located in the hallway supply closet, along with tubing and a mask.”

He jogged out the door and tore open the closet door. It only took him a few seconds to bundle everything he needed into his arms, but they felt like wasted moments all the same.

He’d helped set up a few oxygen tanks in the past, and it wasn’t necessarily difficult. Attaching the tubing was made slightly more complicated by the tremors running through his hands, but he pushed through it.

“There ya go, buddy.” Relief rushed through him once the mask was snug over the kid’s face. “All better now. Or, at least, we’re on our way, yeah?”

The next few minutes dragged by. Tony resisted the urge to glue himself to the vital monitors. Instead, he forced himself to trust F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s judgement, and stuck right by Peter’s side, brushing his hair back and talking gently. He knew firsthand the adrenaline rush of waking up in a place different than the one you lost consciousness in, knew how terrifying and disorienting it was. He wanted Peter to have an anchor: something that he understood, even if he didn’t understand anything else.

“His oxygen stats are improving rapidly, Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. offered after what felt like an eternity. “I estimate that he is likely to regain consciousness soon.”

Sure enough, Peter groaned a minute or two later, forehead wrinkling and he shifted weakly against the mattress.

“Hey buddy,” he murmured, cupping Peter’s face and tilting his head so he’d be lined up perfectly in the kid’s vision when he opened his eyes. “C’mon. Look at me, yeah? Let me know you’re alive in there.”

Peter’s eyes snapped open. For a brief second, his entire body keyed up, muscles coiling, but then his gaze cleared and his pupils found the face hovering above him and Tony could see recognition shoot through his expression. He melted, then, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of his mouth.

“Morning,” Tony whispered. Peter just blinked up at him slowly, brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s alright. Just keep breathing, nice and slow.”

A sluggish hand fumbled up to the oxygen mask, but Tony caught it before he could pull it off. “Yeah, I know. Leave that be. It’s helping.”

“Patrol?” Peter slurred, and Tony had to strain to make out the word through the mask.

He shook his head. “Shh. Don’t worry about it right now, alright?”

To his surprise, Peter relented, eyes drifting closed again, any hint of lingering tension releasing from his expression. “M’kay.”

Tony let his head bow forward, shaky with relief. He felt like he’d spend the rest of his life chasing after Peter Parker, scooping him up and stitching him back together again.

“I’m really glad you’re alright, buddy,” he said, voice low and strained.

Peter didn’t answer, just turned his face sleepily into his palm, but Tony didn’t need to hear anything from the kid, anyway.

He knew.

#this has been sitting in my drafts for ages #and i slapped it together and wrote in the gaps and now it's for u #i was gonna write an entirely different concept #but i decided to save it for 'bleeding out'#not to be a massive downer in the tags but #i'm havin a rough time so please be patient with me while i get my feet underneath me again #thank ye #whumptober2019 #whumptober 2019 #whumptober day 10 #no. 10 #tw: carbon monoxide #is that a trigger?#idk but i'm tagging it #losingmymindtonight writes #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #tony & peter

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lihikainanea · 4 years

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You've done a couple of asks about Tiger being insecure with her mind and body but what about Bill? What if Bill got so into his head that he thought Tiger was going to leave him and/or that she didn't want him anymore. -💜

Anonymous said: That drabble about Tiger getting insecure about her stretch marks, when Bill thinks that she might have changed her mind about them - you almost killed me. Could you make some angst about this? Like, Bill getting into his head, feeling insecure about his place in her life, also feeling dumb because he knows she loves him, but he can help it

You know what I love about you guys? I love how sometimes I am so black or white--like, thinking tiger is the only one who can be insecure about her body because it’s Bill and have you seen Bill what the fuck would Bill have to be insecure about? But then here you guys come with your 10,000 shades of grey that you throw at me and I go...oh. Oh. Because you bring things to my attention that my simple little brain never thought of.

Let’s be all extra here and say that you know what? Bill starts to feel a little unworthy, starts to doubt himself, whenever he feels like he let tiger down in his role in their relationship...like say, that awful time that he pushed her too far and she said her safe word. Or how about the time when she was really far gone, and he actually scared her? (also, le babie anon--I haven’t seen you in awhile. Are you okay? Where ya at?) The Tumblr search function is trash and the second part of that drabble isn’t coming up, but here let me just throw this one at you too--some insights into his occasional dom drop(s).

Because here’s the thing, right? Bill still can’t believe just half the shit that tiger lets him do to her. The amount of trust in him, just the way she is this big badass but she will let him spank her and reduce her to a blubbering mess of begging and pleading submissiveness....Bill is beside himself every time. He just can’t believe that she lets him--nay, begs him--to do that to her. But he also feels this incredible responsibility, feels the weight of that trust and knows the magnitude of it, and it’s something he takes very, very seriously.

So when he screws up sometimes--which is normal, because this dynamic is not without its hiccups--he gets really, really hard on himself. Because a tiny screw up for him is fine, but that tiny screw up could have devastating impacts on tiger and he doesn’t ever want that. And when he does screw up, he starts to think that maybe...maybe tiger should be with someone who can fulfill her needs more. Someone who knows more about this sort of thing. Somebody who won’t make nearly as many mistakes as he’s made. Somebody who will only ever make her feel incredible, without the horrendous drops of his fuck ups.

Because at the end of the day, he loves her. She means the world to him, and he wants nothing other than for her to be in the best hands--whether or not they’re his own. He wants what’s best for her--he just doesn’t always think he’s, you know, it.

She deserves someone who is around more. Someone who doesn’t have a spotlight on them, so that she can fade into the wallpaper like she’d much prefer to do. She deserves someone she can be affectionate with in public, without any associated risk or attention. Someone that maybe she can be small with all the time, if that’s what she wants. Bill internalizes just...all of this. And he beats himself up over it--and it’s totally ridiculous, because all tiger ever wants is just...him. He’s the only person who has ever made her feel safe, and because she feels so safe with him, she’s able to be her true self in their dynamic. She’s able to show a vulnerable side to herself that she never shows anyone, she’s able to be needy and whiney and to beg shamelessly for what she wants because she knows that she’s safe and that he’ll give it to her. She’s able to get fussy, to show her discomfort to him, and to trust wholeheartedly in the fact that if she does, he will make it disappear. He’ll make it go away, for her.

And I’ll bet, too--if we want an added layer of angst--I’ll bet Bill is indeed a little self-conscious about the way he looks. Because he’s just....like, he’s tall as fuck you know? And yes I think he’s very handsome, and yes most of us in this fandom do, but there is no denying that he’s freaky looking. In fact, the very first time I saw a picture of him I almost...recoiled. And I know that sounds harsh but his facial features are just incredibly striking, and VERY unusual when you first see them. I’ll bet he’s a little self-conscious about his big wonky eyes. About his height. About his clumsy, oaf-ness. Maybe every once in awhile those huge hands of his are such a nuisance--if he’s trying oh so carefully to clasp one of tiger’s necklaces for her, and he accidentally breaks it. He can’t do up buttons on her dress, because his huge ass fingers just can’t wrap around something that small and manoeuvre it. His extremities are always cold because there’s just not enough blood pumping through his gigantic body to keep him both alive and keep him warm. He speaks English fine but when he’s tired his accent comes back, and it is that stereotypical musical Swedish one that people love to make fun of. He’s too skinny. Sometimes if his clothes are too loose it makes him look straight up gaunt. Winter is hard, and he gets so pale that he looks like a fucking vampire. He can get really, really caught up in his head with these things and every now and then when he meets a new colleague or new friend of tiger’s and the person inevitably goes “holy shit you’re tall” or “holy shit your eyeballs” then it all just comes bubbling to the surface.

And for tiger’s part, if you were to ask her? All those things he hates are the exact things that get her so fucking wet for him, every time. Watching those huge, gentle hands try to manipulate something they are clearly too big for? Wet. Hearing him whack his head on a doorframe and cuss loudly? Wet. That little Swedish lilt and the way he forgets some English words when he’s exhausted? Wet. Those big eyes, and how they widen and just watch her every move sometimes? Wettttttttttt.

But I want to go back to the first point here, because god I’m just so weak for it. Bill being the only thing that tiger has ever needed, being so good to her, but also just berating himself when he fucks up. Berating himself to the point where he really does convince himself that he's just....he’s not good for her. She deserves more. Deserves better. And Bill sitting there quietly in bed, his arm wrapped loosely around her, spinning himself into a horrendous place in thinking that she just...she deserves more.

Does he leave? MY SOFF GIANT. I’ll bet he leaves. Runs off to his family’s lake house for a few days. And you know what? GOD IT’S A FUCKING MESS. Because maybe something in their dynamic went wrong--he scared her or something happened--and tiger needs him. She needs him, his safety, his comfort. And Bill thinking he needs to get away because all he ever does is hurt her or scare her, and she deserves more than that--so he leaves. And tiger is in shambles, and so is he, and IT’S JUST A FUCKING MESS AHHHHHHH.

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whumppile · 7 years

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Hey! I know you are busy but here is another Peter and Tony one! Where Tony is checking up on Peter's suit status during one of his patrol nights, making sure it is still functioning properly when he notices that Peter's vitals are a little off but he knows he's just sitting at the moment so doesn't make sense and then he looks through his vitals history and sees something off; i.e. Peter has an diagnosed heart problem which could very well kill him if he overdoes it and Tony goes into dad!mode

Hey, sorry this took sooo long and that it kind of got away from me. So, I dont know if this is really what you wanted but I hope you like it anyway! Thanks for the prompt! I’ll also post this on my ff.net and ao3 accounts as “Matters of the heart.”

Tony knew that everyone teased him about being overprotectiveof Peter, and he didn’t want to be one of those helicopter parents, especially sincehe wasn’t even Peters actual parent, but he couldn’t help it. The kid was likea magnet for trouble, and no matter how many rules and safety nets Tony laidout, Peter still went happily marching into danger, every time.

Tony did his best to protect him, but some things can’t bekept away with trackers, webs, and curfews.

“Peter, are you feeling okay?”

The teenager looked up from his sandwich, legs swinging ashe sat on the edge of the building, where he and Tony were perched for apost-mission snack.

“Yeah, why?”

Tony frowned at the lines and numbers scrolling across hisvision in his Iron-Man suit. Karen had notified him that something was offabout Peters vitals, but couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly, was wrong.

“Did you get hit at all?”

Peter put his sandwich down and frowned. “No, I stayed awayfrom them and just threw my webs; they never even touched me. What’s wrong?”

Tony wasn’t sure, that was the problem. Thankfully, it didn’tseem to be urgent and Peter really did seem fine, but the heart rate scrollingacross his vision was wonky and uneven.

“It’s probably just a glitch in the suit, but Karen thinksyour vitals are off, so finish that and we’ll go see Bruce.”

Peter groaned and rolled his eyes, as Tony sent theinformation to the compound to be ready for when they arrived. He knew why thekid was annoyed to be going, but heart abnormalities were not something tobrush off.

“It’s just to be safe, Peter.”

Tony really wished it had just been a glitch in the suit. But,when Bruce saw the suit readings he frowned, swiping through the data on thescreen next to the hospital bed he had Peter sitting on.

“What is it?” Tony really didn’t want to hear the answer,because he could tell by the look on his friend’s face, that something waswrong.

Peter looked between the two men, getting more nervous asBruce pulled Tony a little bit away to talk to him. Not that, that would work,since he had enhanced senses anyway.

“Peter, put your headphones in.” Of course, Tony would remember.

The teenager did as he was told but watched the two through thewindow, as they went to the next room to talk.

Bruce closed the door behind them, and did his best tostall, only making Tony more nervous.

“It could be nothing, I mean, we don’t really know muchabout how Peters abilities affect his-“

“Bruce, stop, just spit it out.”

The doctor sighed and wrung his hands in front of him,anxiously.

“His heartrate is irregular, it’s called an arrhythmia, andusually I wouldn’t really be worried because he seems fine but his bloodpressure is too high, even though he’s just sitting there. I want to do somemore tests and figure out exactly what’s causing this.”

Tony looked behind him, through the window to where Peterwas watching them, with those wide eyes. He turned back to Bruce. “Is thisserious? Do we need to call his aunt?”

The doctor hesitated, but nodded, shoulders sagging. He’dalways hated delivering bad news.

Tony didn’t want to tell her, because May Parker was just asoverprotective as he was, and he didn’t want her to feel as sick and worried ashe did. He wanted so badly to believe that Peter would be fine, and the testswould come back clean, but that kid had always attracted trouble wherever hewent, and he could almost feel the bad news coming.

She came quickly, though he told her there was nothing knownyet, and the tests hadn’t even begun, and they sat with Peter through everyscan, X-ray, MRI, EKG, and whatever else Bruce subjected him to. And then theysat there, in front of Bruce’s desk, holding their breaths, waiting for thenews.

“He has what’s called dilated cardiomyopathy, or DCM, it’swhen the left ventricle is enlarged and weakened, and since that’s the heartsmain pumping chamber, it lessens the hearts ability to pump blood. He probably didn’teven know anything was wrong, it often doesn’t present any symptoms at all, andalthough he seems okay now, it can be very serious.”

Tony felt like throwing up. Peter’s best super power hadalways been his heart, and now there was something wrong with it.

May had a hand over her mouth, muffling her voice slightlyas she spoke. “What does that mean? Is he going to be okay? What do we do tofix this?”

Tony was already picturing Peters face in his mind, and howit would fall when he told him he couldn’t be Spider-Man anymore. But thenBruce spoke, tone noticeably brighter than before.

“This sort of diagnosis, in any other fifteen-year-old,would mean big lifestyle changes, but Peter’s body can take far more than otherkids can. I don’t know how his enhanced healing is going to effect this, butPeter will be fine.”

May let out a sigh of relief, but Tony shook his head. “Hisheart doesn’t work properly, you can’t actually be suggesting we just leavethis alone. He can’t continue to be Spider-Man with something like this.”

His mind was already racing with awful images of Peterhaving a heart attack in the middle of a mission, but Bruce just adjusted hisglasses, unfazed.

“We aren’t going to just forget about this, Tony, I will beprescribing him a few medications to keep his blood pressure in control andother symptoms that might come up. And I’ll be keeping a close eye on him tosee how this progresses, but he isn’t actually unwell, he can keep doing whathe’s doing, and be perfectly fine.”

Tony knew that Bruce was the expert, but he couldn’t wraphis head around the idea of just letting Peter run into danger, with a heartthat didn’t work properly.

“You said this could be serious? Shouldn’t he be taking iteasy?”

Bruce gave him a sympathetic smile, and on anyone else itwould have been condescending, but on Bruce it just looked gentle. “Almosteverything is easy for Peter. He’s young, fit, and active, and he has super strengthand enhanced healing. He can catch a car with his bare hands and not even breaka sweat, so, as long as he feels okay and doesn’t take any damage to his chest,he can do everything that he was before. People with these sorts of heartconditions still lead active lives, in fact its encouraged that they do. We’llkeep an eye on his heart and his health, but he will be fine.”

May looked relieved, wiping at her eyes before standing andshaking the doctors hand. “Thank you, so much. I’m going to go see Peter.”

Tony wanted to believe that the teenager would be okay, but hecouldn’t let it go, he couldn’t do nothing. So, despite his aversion to beingthe helicopter parent, he would be.

…………

Peter slipped his suit on, returned after Tony tweaked a fewthings, and smiled as Karen greeted him.

“Hello, Peter.”

The teenager slipped out his window, ready to get back tohis nightly patrols, after spending a week doing tests and medication trialswith Dr Banner. He felt fine, and thankfully May and Tony were beginning to believethat he was.

“Hey, Karen. It’s really good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back. How are you feeling? Any symptoms toreport?”

Pete sighed, rolling his eyes as he swung to anotherbuilding. “I’m fine. I should have known Tony would do something like this.”

Karen continued, pleasant voice doing nothing to make thequestions less annoying. “Have you taken your medication today?”

Peter was so sick of being asked that. “Yes. Can you stopasking these stupid questions and just tell me if there’s anything in the citythat I can help with? I’ll take another bicycle theft at this point.”

Karen hummed, stalling a little as the suit scanned itsowner. “Your blood pressure, and heart rate are in acceptable range, so, yes Ican do that.”

Peter frowned, running across the top of a building, andlooking out over the edge, at the people below. “Would you have not done it, ifmy heart rate was too high?”

She answered right away, making Peter groan in irritation. “Yes,Mr Stark has added new protocols to assist with keeping you safe, and monitoringyour heart. If you had presented any unusual symptoms, he would be called and Iwould prevent you from ‘diving headfirst into danger’ as he put it.”

“He doesn’t have to worry so much; Dr Banner said I’m fine.”

She still hadn’t told him if there was anything he could behelping with, so he sat on the edge of the building instead, watching the tinyfigures below.

Karen’s voice was softer, as if she understood and wanted tomake him feel better.

“I know, but he cares about you, and he can’t help butworry.”

That made Peter smile. “Thanks, Karen.”

He knew Tony worried of course, and he hated when peopleworried over him, but it was actually nice to know they cared. And, he may havehated all the rules and extra precautions but he really did try to be careful.The diagnosis had scared him too, and he didn’t want to stress out his hearttoo much, so, beating up bad guys and swinging around the city was easy, but maybehe’d leave catching cars, to people without heart problems.

Unfortunately, things don’t always work out the way you plan,and trouble would always find Peter, no matter what he did to stop it.

They really needed to sort out some kind of security systemfor earth, because aliens just kept popping up like mushrooms. Tony hadn’t wantedPeter to come, but they needed him, and he’d promised to stay back and firewebs from a distance. And, Peter had really wanted to keep that promise, butthe alien was fast, and its super strength made it hard for anyone to stop it.

So, he’d fired webs and tried to trap it, which worked,until it knocked every Avenger back into the street and loomed over Tony.

The Iron Man suit was banged up and scratched, and Peterknew that Tony wasn’t going to get to his feet in time to stop the meaty fistcoming towards him.

The teenager flung out a web, and swung out in front of hismentor, kicking the ugly ass alien in the chest to send it smashing into awall.

“Spider-Man, get out of here! You could get hurt!”

Peter took his metal hand and pulled him up from the ground,before firing another web and giving Tony a salute.

“You’re welcome!”

He went back to running across roof tops, and swingingaround the fight, keeping his distance, but what they hadn’t yet seen from thegross, half burnt, too tall, raisin looking alien, was that it could fly.

Peter heard a round of surprised exclamations, through hiscom, including his own, as the thing looked apparently angry at being kickedinto a wall by a baby spider. It stretched out its back, the ridges in itsspine elongating until it had formed bony, wrinkly wings, and launched itselfinto the air. Right after Peter.

What was stupid about it, was that Peter had actually beenfollowing the rules this time, with a little lapse in rule following in orderto save Tony, but he had gone right back to the side-lines when told to! He wasbeing good! Yet, the alien still came towards him, as Tony tried to stop itbefore it touched his kid.

Peter saw it coming, and he tried to swing out of the way, butthe beast was so fast he barely had a second before it was on him. He couldhear the team calling his name, desperately trying to get there in time, butall they could do was watch as it’s fist soared towards Peter’s chest.

Tony watched it, watched the eyes on Peter’s suit widen infear, and thought ‘god, no, why him’.

Alarms and warnings began screaming inside Tony’s suit,monitors going crazy as Peter fell, as if nothing but deadweight.

Tony flew down, catching Peter and soaring off to thecompound, as the alien screamed in pain, arrows, bullets, and a shield, hittinginto it until it’s body disintegrated, leaving nothing but a pile of ash and asmudge on a building.

Tony couldn’t breathe, because Peter couldn’t. Friday’svoice was panicked, as she recited his injuries and suggested treatments. “Heis having trouble breathing, his heart rate is too high, and his blood pressureis too low. He needs medical treatment immediately.”

Peter was gasping, desperately trying to drag air into hisdamaged chest, and Tony flew as quickly as he could, finally crashing through acompound window and landing in the med-bay, cradling the teenager against himas he gently pulled their masks off.

He had never seen the teenager so scared. His mouth was openand gasping, as his hands pawed at his chest, trying to stop the pain.

Bruce ran in, immediately coming over to the patient as Tonylowered him to the bed. The Doctor started pulling Peter’s suit off, yanking itdown to expose the teenager’s chest, and profusely apologising as Peterwhimpered.

Tony stepped out of his Iron-Man suit and grabbed a stethoscope,whispering to the teenager as he pressed the head to his chest. Bruce had beenteaching him everything there was to know about Peter’s heart condition, sothat he could help if needed.

“Shh, Peter, it’s going to be okay. Just try to lay stilland breathe.” He didn’t know if it was going to be okay, but he didn’t knowwhat else to say as Peter whimpered in pain, squirming under their hands, onthe bed.

What he heard did not make him feel any better. Peter’sheart was beating far too fast, and he had a murmur, a big one. Bruce hadexplained to him that a murmur was when blood was pumped through the valve, butflowed back into the heart chambers when the valve didn’t close off as itshould.

Tony froze, wishing he had imagined it. But Peter was cryingsoftly under him, eyes barely open as he tried to breathe, and Tony couldn’t denyit. He pulled the stethoscope away and turned to his friend.

“He’s…there’s a murmur.”

Bruce looked up from where he was fixing an oxygen mask ontoPeters face, and took the stethoscope form Tony’s hands so that he could checkhimself. He had the same look on his face as Tony did; shock, concern, anddread.

“The valve is collapsing.” Peter let out a strangled gasp asBruce ran to the doorway and called for help. Tony could barely keep standingas nurses and doctors rushed in, crowding around Peter and yelling things.

Tony heard surgery being mentioned, as well as emergencytransplants, and repairs, and his face crumpled, tears falling. And then heheard Peter’s voice, weak and out of breath, shaking with fear.

“Tony!”

The sea of medical personnel parted, allowing Tony throughto take the hand that Peter was holding out towards him. There were tearsstreaking down Peter’s temples into his hair, as he gasped out words behind theoxygen mask.

“Please don’t leave me!”

Tony squeezed his hand, and ran a hand through the kid’shair, brushing it back from his face as he forced a reassuring smile.

“I won’t, I promise. I’m staying right here, Pete.”

Peter looked up at him, those huge eyes afraid as hisfingers gripped Tony’s like a life line, the muscles across his chest contractingas he struggled to breathe. His mouth opened desperately as his breaths grewmore rapid and shallow, until they were nothing but tiny gasps.

“Pete?”

And then his eyes closed, and his fingers grew lax.

Tony squeezed his hand, but got no response, heart hammeringin his chest so hard he thought it might drown out his panicked words.

“Peter! No, come back, kid, come back!”

Arms wrapped around him, pulling him back from the bed, ashe screamed, Peter’s hand pulled from his to fall and hang from the bed.

Steve’s voice met his ears, close and full of grief. “Tony,let them take him. Let them help.”

He was being pulled away, and the nurses and doctors swarmedover the teenager, so that Tony couldn’t see him anymore.

He struggled in Steve’s hold, trying to get back to his kid.“No, I can’t leave! I promised him, I promised I would stay. Please, he needsme.”

But Steve’s arms didn’t relent, and he sagged to the flooras the gravity of the situation sank in. Peter was dying, and there was nothinghe could do to stop it.

……………

After four hours of surgery, and five days in bed in the medwing, Peter was alive and well, and recovering on the couch.

He was weak, and still sore, with a new scar down his chest,that scared Tony every time he saw it, but he was alive, and that’s whatmattered.

May had her arm wound him as they sat on the couch, under abundle of blankets, watching movies. Steve was sitting on the other side ofPeter, smiling when the kid nudged his arm. “Oh, watch this, this is the bestpart!”

Natasha and Clint swapped a bowl of popcorn and chipsbetween them, as Sam quietly explained to Bucky everything that was happeningin the movie. It should have been a nice night, but Tony couldn’t let go of thepanic every time he saw the heart monitor peeking out from under Peter’sclothes, or the dark circles under his eyes.

The kid was healing quickly, as always, but he still seemedso fragile, and Tony couldn’t trust that he was okay.

“Are you sure everything’s working properly? Because I readabout the complications and-“

Bruce patted his shoulder, as they stood in the next room,watching over their family. “Everything is working perfectly; the surgery wentreally well and he’s getting stronger every day.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his forehead, trying to get rid ofthe sick feeling he got everytime he remembered the way Peter had looked inthat hospital bed, after the operation. He’d been so small under the wires,tube in his mouth, and pale eyelids closed. May had cried as soon as she’d seenhim.

“I can’t go through that again, he can’t. I can’t let himkeep fighting and going out on missions, it’s too dangerous. He can’t beSpider-Man.”

Bruce sighed and pointed to where Peter was laughing on thecouch, as Clint tossed popcorn into the teenager’s mouth from across the room, occasionallytossing some into Natasha and Bucky’s hair just to make them throw a pillow hisway.

“Are you really going to take this away from him? And whatmakes you think you can? Do you remember when I stitched up a wound he got onhis shoulder, and told him he had three broken ribs, yet when you went to checkon him a mere hour later, you found him helping an old lady carry her groceriesto her car?”

Tony rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Yeah, heinsisted he needed to help her, and that it hadn’t hurt to carry them at all, andthen when she tried to pay him for his trouble, he declined and told her thatit was his pleasure to help.” Tony found that his frown had turned into a proudsmile by the end of his story, and Bruce nodded.

“He can’t help but be a hero, it’s who he is, and you can’tstop it. He wants to help people, and no matter what you do to try to keep himfrom it, he will always find a way. It’s what makes him so special, and why youcan’t help but love him.”

Tony watched Peter giggle at the Avengers antics, Natasha andBucky pinning Clint to the ground and tipping the bowl of popcorn over his headas Steve scolded them for making a mess, Sam complaining that they were wastingfood.

The mechanic nodded, knowing Bruce was right.

“Yeah, and why no one else can either.”

Tony Stark had never been good at loving things; he alwaysmanaged to push them away or ruin them, and he couldn’t bear to lose Peter. So,he became a helicopter parent, and did all he could to protect him.

He didn’t want to give the suit back, because it was barely anythingmore than a red and blue invitation for the kid to get into trouble, but thesmile on Peter’s face was worth it.

That smile turned into a frown of confusion as the kid ranhis hands over the suits chest.

“It feels different, it’s stiff and thicker. What’s it madeof?”

Tony smiled proudly, crossing his arms and raising hiseyebrows. “Steve and T’Challa are friends now, and he got some vibraniummaterial to keep you safe.

Peter’s eyes went wide as he looked at the suit, beforelooking up at Tony with a confused expression.

“I thought after that whole mess, you wouldn’t want me doingthis anymore?”

Tony shrugged, about to pretend like he was the cool,relaxed guy that didn’t worry about anything at all, before rolling his eyesand relenting. “Bruce talked me out of banning you from it forever, but anywaythat stuff is super strong, lightweight, and bullet proof, so it’ll keep yourheart safe when you’re out saving people.”

Peter smiled, excited out of his mind. “Fuck yeah!”

“Peter!”

The teenager spread a hand in front of him innocently. “What?It’ll keep me safe and stop you from worrying. That’s cool.”

Tony smiled too. “Fuck yeah, it is.”

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