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roachmattea · 4 years

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dawn jolly snippet!!

(Holly’s pov)

putting a cut because it’s mildly long and i don’t want to clutter up anyone’s dash!!!

With my back pressed against the brick wall in the dark alleyway and dark-wolf (Alisha’s wolves) bites on my shoulder, side, and legs, my only thought is, I kinda want a frozen lemonade right now.

I grimace. I stuff my hands into my jacket pockets-looking for some kind of healing juice or something--and find a small white card. It’s stained with blood (mine), but I can still read the address, and the message scrawled to the side: 2 hour date truce! -j.p.

I run through a map of the city in my mind. The closest entrance to my kingdom is 10 blocks away. The address is only one.

Well, I think. what do I have to lose?

I make my way to J.P Ross’s house, or evil headquarters, or whatever. Anything is better than a dark alleyway splattered with wolf-and-dawn-queen blood.

When I find the small house tucked into an unassuming suburban neighbourhood, I'm a little surprised. For a second I wonder: What if he wrote down the wrong address, and I show up, covered in blood, and a hand aglow so I can see (the streetlights are broken), on the doorstep of a random middle class family?

I shake my head. This is J.P Ross, criminal mastermind. He knows his own address.

I knock twice with a glowing fist.

The door opens, and he stands in the doorway, brown hair mussed, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, holding a glass of wine. His eyes widen when he sees me, bloody and shivering, on his doorstep.

He seems at a loss for words, but puts his wine glass down, and touches the bite on my shoulder. “...Holly Dawn?”

I can barely stand. I need to make him understand, to make him not kill me on the spot. I hold out the blood-stained white truce card. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

And then I collapse into the arms of my worst enemy.

When I wake, it’s by a fire, with a quilt around me, and a dull pain in my head. “...J.P?”

He is sitting beside me on a couch, dabbing at the wound on my shoulder. “Hello, Your Highness.” His smirk reminds me of Ryan’s when he teases Miranda.

I shake my head. It’s a mistake. Fuzzy spots cloud my vision. I turn to J.P.

“What did you give me? Some sort of sedative drug?”

“Nope. It’s just the Livis’s bites. They weaken Xonarians, especially Tallion’s. It’s a wonder you made it all the way here without passing out. How far away were you? Why didn’t you call your friends or something?”

I try to reach into my pocket, realizing I don't have my jacket on anymore. J.P seems to notice what I’m looking for, and holds up my jacket.

“Check the pockets,” I say.

He reaches into the left pocket, and pulls out my phone. The screen is shattered, and there’s a bullet hole clean through the middle (the MTT had killed a few of the wolves; I'd gotten caught in the crossfire.) He mouths, Oh.

I roll my eyes, and mouth back Yeah.

He smirks again. I have an uncontrollable urge to smack him, and I feel like I understand Miranda a little better now. He looks too annoying, smirking like that. And too cute.

What am I talking about?

J.P puts my broken phone on the coffee table. “You can have some screen time if you want,”

I really am about to smack him now, but a loud whistling noise stops me.

“J.P!” a voice yells from upstairs. J.P and I both tense. It’s Silentina, J.P’s niece. “That’s the kettle! Can you make me some lemon tea?”

“Uh, yeah! Just a second!” He turns to me, and his face is panicked.

“Can you stand?” he whispers. “No!” I whisper back.

“J.P?” Silentina calls. “Everything okay?”

“Fine!”

Without warning, he picks me up bridal-style, and when I squeak - out of pain and surprise - he presses a finger to my lips.

“She can’t know you’re here,” he murmured. I nodded, eyes wide. “Good.”

He carries me to a bland bedroom and places me gently on the bed. “Not a sound,” He reminds me.

I nod as he closes the door and heads back to make Silentina her tea.

I sit up on the bed and wince. My back is sore from sitting for so long. I want to turn some lights on, but that would alert Silentina of my presence. So I settled for curling my hands into a cup, and letting a small glimmer of gold bounce around in my hand.

J.P didn’t kill me when I was unconscious in his home. I, the hero, his enemy, had come to him, and basically begged him to help me. And he did.

What a strange villain.

Maybe he’s not your villain, a little voice whispers in my mind. I tell it to shut up. The voice sounds a lot like Miranda.

“You’re going out?” That’s J.P’s voice from the kitchen. I squeeze my hand, and listen.

“Yup.” That’s Silentina. “Going to be a teenager for a bit. Maybe see a movie. You don’t mind if I take a break from building, do you?” Building what?

“No, not at all. Have fun.”

“Mm, now I'm going to try as hard as I can not to.”

I can practically hear J.P rolling his eyes. “Okay, great to know. Bye!”

“Bye!”

I hear footsteps, and then the doorknob clicks, and J.P enters the room he put me in.

“Light,” he commands, and for a second i think he’s talking to me, and it’s a nickname or something, but no, he’s talking to the room.

Beautiful, golden light floods the gloomy room, and hundreds of systems come to life; projections, holograms, you name it.

I push my hand through a hologram of the Hex logo. It dawns (ha ha) on me.

“This is your room.”

“Yeah. So?”

“That’s...kinda weird.”

“Why?”

“Um...I’m your greatest enemy-”

He cuts me off. “Actually, i think my greatest enemy is the cashier at Tim Hortons who gave me a raspberry frozen lemonade instead of the original.”

“What’s Tim Hortons?”

He stares at me incredulously. “You know all those frozen lemonades I bring you every time we fight?”

He mentioned our...rivalry so casually. I find it hard to speak. “Yeah.”

“Those are from Tim Hortons.”

The answer doesn’t satisfy me, but I don't push.

He sits on his bed next to me. He smells like lemons.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

I’m not sure I heard him correctly. “You...and me...watching a movie? In your house?”

He shrugs. “With your wounds, you won’t be able to move on your own until tomorrow.”

I sit up suddenly, and regret it when a sharp stab of pain brings tears to my eyes. “Tomorrow?”

“Mmhm.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

I slump backwards. J.P presses a button, and a TV rises out of a table. “What do you wanna watch?”

J.P and I are about 15 minutes into (insert disney movie here), when I decide to lean my head against his shoulder and wrap my outside arm around his torso. He stiffens as I touch him, but relaxes soon after.

“Holly,” J.P asked hesitantly. “Do you think that we...that our people...could ever live like this?” he motions to me and him, curled beside each other, watching a movie, bathed in a soft golden glow.

I tilt my head to look into his eyes. “Like...in peace?” I ask.

He nods.

I sigh. “I don’t know.”

He nods again, as if he expected that answer. We lie in silence for the rest of the movie, occasionally debating certain plot points, and screaming “Movie logic!” at the screen whenever something cliche happened (i.e: characters running (making an escape, usually), only to realize that the ground ends in a cliff, and the characters almost slip and fall, but don’t, and a few rocks tumble down the cliff).

When the movie ends, I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here with J.P and talk about whether it was realistic when (movie plot point insert).

But I can’t.

And he knows it.

He leaves me to sleep in his room, and turns out the lights before I can even say goodnight.

I blink in the darkness. J.P’s words are stuck in my head. My stubborn brain repeats them over, and over, even (and especially) when I scream at myself to stop.

Could we ever live in peace?

I had answered him truthfully, I think. I don’t know.

But my mind seemed to know what I wanted. I had always been an active daydreamer, after all. My dad said it was one of my best qualities.

It is your greatest strength, Holly. To see things that other people don’t. I can see his face, as he tucks my grown-out bangs out of my face. The memory was from years ago. I could smell the sea in his hair and on his skin, and heard his laugh when he picked me up and spun me around. Possibilities. Not everyone can find the dove in a sea of ravens. Hope and peace, in a world of death and destruction. You can. I know you can, my little sunrise.

I let myself imagine a perfect world. Where the Hex and Dawn work together, in peace. J.P and I would lead them, and we could go back home. To Xonar.

I fall asleep to dreams of doves and ravens.

tagging the tflc gang hope i’m not bothering you oop

@enbies-and-felonies @that-aro-asshat @clearlykeefitz @duchessmb @book-limerence @silver-snow @pencil-is-my-sword @alienlamp @cozy-the-overlord @ademonwithinternet @linhamon-roll

#i had to put all of the italics in after because they didn't transfer from docs #so there are probably some mistakes #xonar-verse #xonar-verse dawn #jollyyyy #holly x j.p #animal bite tw #tw animal bites

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crue-sixx · 5 years

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Excommunicado (John Wick Imagine)

Summary: John Wick broke the rules and has to pay the price, but you’re not going to let him go through this on his own.

Warning: Violence.

As John Wick ran through the wet streets of New York City with his loyal pitbull, he looked around aimlessly. He wasn’t sure of what to do or where to go. He only had minutes before he was excommunicado and was fair game to any assasin out there. They were everywhere too. He’d ran into a handful of them who kept reminding him that the clock was ticking.

John stopped in the middle of Time Square and looked around at his surroundings. He was hurt and could use some help, but where was he going to go? The first person he thought of was you. You were the only one that he felt he could trust in this trying time.

John began running in the direction of your place as his loyal companion followed closely beside him. The rain was still pouring out of the dark sky, but John couldn’t be bothered by it. He made it to your place in record time since you were nearby. He checked his watch and found that he had about half an hour left before the hunting would begin. John reached his hand out to the intercom and buzzed up to your place. His dog sat by his feet, waiting to see where his owner would be going next.

“Who is it?” Your voice came through the old intercom system.

“It’s John,” he answered.

You didn’t say anything for a few moments, which worried John. Maybe you weren’t willing to help him after all. Soon enough, however, a loud buzz came through, indicating that the door was being unlocked to let him inside. John quickly opened it and let his dog run in first before he came in. He didn’t bother taking the elevator. Instead, he took the stairs two at a time till he made it to your floor. He jogged to your door and knocked on it. It only took you a second to open the door to let the man and his dog inside.

“Good grief, John,” you sighed as you took in his appearance. He was soaked to the bone and looked like he’d been in a tussle or two. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” he replied simply. “Think you could patch me up real quick?”

“Yeah, sure,” you answered him. “Anything for you, John. Go sit down somewhere and let me grab my stuff.”

He nodded and went into your kitchen, taking a seat in one the chairs at your table. His dog came over and sat down by his feet, making himself comfortable. You soon came into the kitchen with some medical supplies. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You were known to help out injured assasins and hitmen in the underground world. Your medical expertise was impressive. You put everything down on the table as he began taking his suit jacket and tie off. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off one arm, revealing a deep laceration on his shoulder.

“That looks painful,” you replied as you grabbed the antiseptic. “This will make it even more painful.”

“Just do it,” he replied.

You poured some of the antiseptic on the wound and John hissed at the burning sensation it caused. You made quick work of stitching his wound up. You knew of the man’s excommunication and he didn’t have much time left. He kept glancing at the clock on your kitchen wall nervously.

“If you would stop fidgeting so much, I could do this a lot quicker,” you said to him.

He became still after that and you were quick to finish patching him up. The stitches were neat and clean. You put a bandage over it and handed him some pills to take for the pain. His other wounds were superficial so you didn’t bother with doing anything for them.

“I’ll go grab you some fresh clothes,” you told him. “I keep some around in case anyone needs some.” You stood from the table and headed into the spare bedroom to look for some clothes. You were sure there was some old ones from back when John used to come over. He still looked the same size.

You and John had an interesting relationship. You were friends with benefits back in the day before he met Helen and married her. You were both lonely people back then, filling a void in your lives together. He used come to your place a lot when he felt the need or you did. It never developed into anything more than some fun. Well, you had developed feelings for the man, but kept them to yourself. Falling in love in this line of work wasn’t the best idea.

You managed to find a pair of pants that would fit John pretty well and an old long sleeve Henley shirt of his that you were sure he wouldn’t remember ever leaving at your place. You came back into the kitchen with the clothes and handed them to him. He took them and stood from the table to go to the bathroom.

“You can just change right here you know,” you told him with a smirk. “Isn’t anything I haven’t seen before.”

John gave you a look before he went out of the kitchen. You shrugged and looked down at John’s dog. You went to the fridge and found some deli meat to feed the pit bull. You took a seat in one of the chairs and started feeding him. He gobbled the food right down as if he hadn’t been fed in days. John soon came back in wearing the fresh clothes.

“Thank you for helping me out, Y/N,” he said. “I really appreciate it. I know how much trouble this could get you in.”

“Anytime, John,” you replied and sat back in your chair. “So where are we headed off to?”

John gave you a weird look and raised one of his brows. “We?”

“Yes, we,” you told him. “If you think I’m letting you do this by yourself then you obviously don’t know me, John Wick.”

“Y/N, I am not involving you in this,” he told you with a stern voice.

“You’ve already involved me, John,” you pointed out to him. “You came here for help. You know good and well that everyone’s going to find out about that and I’ll be in some shit for it. May as well go all in now.”

John sighed and his shoulders slumped. He knew coming to your place was a bad idea, but he didn’t know what else to do. He planned on making sure that nothing would happen to you for you helping him out though. He hadn’t figured out what yet, but he was going to make sure you didn’t get hurt.

“You realize that everyone is after me, right?” He asked. “There’s a price on my head and everyone’s trying to get a piece of it.”

“So I’ve heard,” you told him and nodded. “That’s why you could really use some friends right now. I can help you, John.”

“You can’t help me anymore than you have,” John told you. “You can’t fight, Y/N. You haven’t been trained.”

You looked at John and smirked at him as you raised one of your brows. You got up from the chair you were sat in and stood in front of John. “You would be surprised what I can do.”

It was at that moment that your door was kicked in. Your’s and John’s heads both snapped in that direction. You found your neighbor, Sean, and a couple of other guys waltzing right in. Sean was a fellow assasin. You’d patched him up a few times when he needed it. John’s dog growled, sensing the men were there for no good.

“Can I fucking help you?” You asked him, not appreciating his introduction.

“We’re here for him,” Sean said as he pointed the gun he was holding in the direction of John.

“Well, that’s just too bad isn’t it?” You replied and looked at the clock. “He still has five minutes and he was just leaving.”

“I don’t think they’ll care if I get the job done a few minutes earlier,” Sean said with a smirk.

“I don’t know,” you said and shrugged. “They’re pretty clear about the rules, Sean. You and your goons better leave while you still can.”

“No, I don’t think we will,” he answered you.

“I don’t think you want to mess with me,” you told Sean.

“What the hell are you going to do?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes and sighed as you pulled a gun from your waistband faster than any of them could comprehend. You kept one handy at all times in case a situation like this ever arised. You shot all three men in the hands they held their guns, making them drop them as they all yelled out in pain. You’d been training for a while and had discovered that you were a pro with a gun. You were quick to lock in your target and shoot it.

“You bitch!” Sean yelled out as he came charging for you. You shot him in one of his knees next and he really started yelling then.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady, asshole,” you told him as you pointed the gun towards the other two. “Do any of you have anything to say? There’s still plenty of more bullets in this gun I can use.”

They shook their heads and dragged Sean out of there. There wasn’t much they could do when you’d shot them in their dominant hands. You put your gun away again when they were gone and looked at John. He was looking at you in a shocked manner.

“I thought you hated guns,” John finally spoke.

“Well, it turns out I’m a pro with them so I learned to like them,” you told him and shrugged. “I’ve got more skills than that too. I can help you, John.”

“I can’t let you get hurt because of me, Y/N,” John said and sighed.

“Who says I’ll get hurt?” You told him. “You doubt my skills that much, John Wick? That’s a shame.”

John looked in the direction of the clock and so did you. He only had seconds left before his excommunication was in effect. He seemed to think for a moment before he finally sighed.

“Fuck...come on then,” John replied and you smiled. “We don’t have much time.”

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musicalluna · 5 years

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not on our watch

happy eve of my birth have a fic based off a comment @onemuseleft made once on one of my posts:

What about someone trying to kidnap Tony - like a corporate abduction kind of thing - and his security deals with it and he doesn't see the need to tell anyone and they find out by accident and FLIP OUT into overprotective mode much to his surprise –

Timothy Cran is an unbelievable asshole.

Okay, that's a lie. It's completely believable.

“It's nothing personal, Tony,” Tim says, and Tony rolls his eyes.

There's a gun pressed between the flaps of the vent at the back of his suit coat. Tony suppresses a sigh. This is what he gets for agreeing to dinner meetings with pushy manufacturing CEOs.

He has to give it to Cran for his brass balls—it's not even seven-thirty, the sun only just starting to set and there's a slow flow of traffic going by in a cacophony of car horns like, five feet away.

“I take guns and kidnapping very personally, Timothy.”

“It's just business, Tony, don't be like that.”

“Business? No. This isn't business. I grew up in business. This is a crime.”

“It's a fine line,” Tim says, pressing close against Tony's back. So close he can feel his breath. Tony grimaces.

“That is a despicable attitude. The chances of us doing business just dissolved into nothing.”

When he looks up again Happy's car is pulling in on the far side of Tim's at the curb. He sighs. Good, this will be over soon.

Tim's driver opens the door of Tim's SUV and Tony swings his hips to the side, reaching back to grab hold of the butt of the gun.

Tim is quicker on the uptake than expected, and heat blasts across Tony's hip as the gun goes off.

“Dammit!” Tim shouts.

Tony hangs on to the gun as hard as he can, pressing it against his side where it can't get him if it goes off again, the other arm hooking around Tim's and pulling him close so he can't get back.

“Tony!”

“Hap!”

Happy comes barreling around the front of the SUV and hits Cran hard enough both he and Tony hit the ground. The gun goes off again, punching a hole in the door of the SUV. Several screams go up—Tony grunts as his face mashes into the sidewalk.

“Drop the gun!” Happy barks. “Drop it!”

Someone else is yelling at Tim's driver and the maître d' has come outside and wants to know what the hell is going on. Tim's fingers loosen around the gun, and Happy drags him onto his back and off of Tony who hauls the gun under his own body and flicks on the safety. Then he goes limp, kicking up New York sidewalk grime with every breath.

What an end to the day.

In just a few minutes there are sirens and cops and paramedics because it turns out the first shot grazed Tony's hip. It's shallow, but Happy sees the blood and the hole in Tony's pants and gets a bug up his ass. Fortunately, the paramedics agree with Tony and say he doesn't need the hospital. They take photos and bandage him up. The cops get his statement and then Tony's allowed to collapse into the passenger seat of the car. Happy pulled up in and go home.

He reaches over the center console with a floppy hand and pats clumsily at Happy's thigh. “Nice work, Hap. Thanks.”

“I'm just glad you're okay, Boss. Sorry you got banged up.”

“I'm alive, Happy, that's the important thing. Now take me home.”

“You got it, boss.”

–

Tony takes the elevator up to the penthouse and limps his way into the bedroom. Times like this having forty thousand square feet is a pain in the ass.

“JARVIS, time?”

“Eight forty-five, sir. You are fashionably late.”

“Perfect.”

Tony strips out of his jacket, tossing it over the foot of the bed. Then he removes his pants, slit up the thigh by the paramedics and barely preserving his dignity since his boxers had been removed entirely. He takes a look at the bandage on his hip in the full-length mirror. It's clean and white, a four by four square of gauze taped over the wound. Barely looks like anything, considering it's from a gunshot.

He pulls on a loose pair of drawstring pants, then a t-shirt and one of his Air Force hoodies pilfered from Rhodey. He pads into the bathroom to get some OTC painkillers and swallows them, taking a drink from the faucet to wash them down. His hip aches and his head's starting to hurt from its connection with the pavement, but it's team night, and the best thing Tony can imagine right now is hanging with the team futzing around.

He heads down to the common floor, smiling when he strolls off the elevator to the sound of Clint moaning, “Aw, pizza.”

“Making a mess as usual?” he calls ahead.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Clint yells back cheerfully, pushing up on the couch so he can look over the back. He's got pizza trailing in a globby streak down the front of his shirt from a slice in one hand.

“Where have you been?” Natasha asks. She's in the kitchen pouring herself a fizzy pink drink. Thor is at the counter next to her piling pizza onto a plate.

“My meeting ran over,” Tony says.

Steve unfolds himself from where he must have been sitting on the floor, face appearing over the back of the couch. “Are you going to eat?”

Tony pats his stomach. “Dinner meeting. I'm good, thanks.”

“What about a drink?” Natasha asks.

He points a finger at her. “Now, that, I will take.”

Natasha's mouth purses in that mischievous Mona Lisa smile of hers and she nods.

“Where's Bruce?” Tony asks.

“Oh, he's in there,” Thor says through a mouthful, pointing the bitten slice out into the living room. “He is playing Resident Evil 7.”

“We're going to watch,” Steve says, smiling at Tony as he steps into the kitchen. Tony can't help but smile back, the stress of the last hour melting out of his body.

“No commentary allowed?”

“No commentary allowed!” Bruce confirms from the living room and Tony exchanges a grin with Steve.

“Some commentary,” Clint signs and everyone in the kitchen laughs.

“I don't like the sound of that,” Bruce calls.

“Here you go, Richie,” Nat says, coming around the island with two drinks in hand. She holds one out to Tony and hip checks him.

A strangled noise tears from Tony's throat as pain shoots down his leg, his knee buckling. A couple of wordless shouts go up around them. Nat tries to grab for him, but she's holding two glasses. Steve moves so fast that one second he's by the couch and the next he's got Tony under the arm, keeping him upright.

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” Tony demurs, the worst of the pain gone as quickly as it had started.

“Uh, no, clearly you are not fine,” Clint says, looking like he only needs the tiniest provocation to vault over the back of the couch.

Steve practically carries Tony over to one of the chairs in the kitchen, despite Tony's protests that he can walk.

“When were you injured?” Thor demands, his pizza abandoned on the other side of the island.

“Tony's injured?” Bruce says, twisting around where he's sitting in one of the gaming chairs, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

“I tapped him and he practically collapsed.”

“Okay, that's hyperbole. What is with you guys?” Tony pushes Steve back and then elbows Natasha when she tries to pull down the waistband of his pants. “Cut it out! Hands to yourself, Romanov.”

“Tony, what happened?” Steve puts his hands on his hips, clearly agitated. “Is this from Sunday?”

“No,” Tony says, holding out both index fingers. “No, absolutely not. I said I wasn't hurt and I wasn't.”

“Then what happened?”

Tony blinks at the five concerned faces surrounding him and realizes they're not going to let him brush it off. “It—okay, so. I told you my meeting ran late.” He gets a round of encouraging nods. “Well, it ran late because the guy I met with thought he was a hotshot and tried to chivvy me into his car after dinner. He had a gun and it clipped me before I disarmed him—”

“Someone fucking SHOT you?” Clint yelps.

“He did what?” Bruce's voice rises, and he rushes the rest of the way into the kitchen.

“Someone tried to shoot me, Clint, keep up.”

“Wrong. You were injured. They shot you. Badly.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Fine, I was shot badly.”

Steve puts his hands out, and they both shut their mouths. “Someone tried to kidnap you? Why weren't we notified?” He has his Captain Kill face on, which is actually pretty scary. “Protocol—”

“Put your hackles down. S.H.I.E.L.D. had nothing to do with this, it was handled in house. What do you know about protocol, anyway?”

Steve glares at him.

Next to Steve, Bruce is rubbing his fingers together in rapid circles. “You were nearly kidnapped, and you were shot. Did you go to the hospital?”

Tony's startled when Bruce's hand reaches for his face; he tips his head back with it, and Bruce's thumb brushes over his beard along the line of his jaw. Tony hisses.

Everyone moves closer.

“Ow, what the hell,” Tony says, reaching up to touch, but Bruce brushes his hand away.

“You've got a scrape—did you hit your head?”

Tony shrugs him off. “No.”

Thor, Steve, and Natasha are all giving him looks that say they aren't buying it.

Tony huffs and rolls his eyes. “All right, I hit the deck, but the paramedics checked me out I'm fine! I didn't even know I had that scrape.”

“There were paramedics,” Clint says. “JARVIS, did this hit the news?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give us the footage.”

JARVIS pulls up the news as requested, a hologram popping up next to Tony over the counter. Tony watches himself climb into the back of an ambulance with the help of the two young medics.

“We should have been notified,” Steve says voice hard and presses his hand down hard over his mouth.

“It's not like this is the first time this has ever happened, Steve.”

The look Steve gives him the second the words have left his mouth tell Tony it wasn't the right thing to say.

“This has happened before? Since the Avengers—?”

“Uh, yeah. Probably, I dunno, three or four times?”

Thor looks shocked. “So many times? I have been pursued in such a fashion, but never with such persistence.”

Tony shrugs. “Lot of uses for me, I guess. This is why I have a security team, guys.” He's not totally sure why this has got them so worked up, but he's not above taking advantage. He's tired. “So, uh,” he rubs one eye. “I was kind of looking forward to taking it easy tonight, can we, uh…?”

The severe expressions on Clint, Natasha, and Steve's faces soften. Natasha pats Tony's knee. “Of course we can.”

“Resident Evil 7?” Tony says hopefully to Bruce, and Bruce's tense shoulders relax.

“Yeah.” Bruce lets out a slow breath and nods.

Steve moves like he's going to try and lift Tony and Tony holds a palm out toward him. “Ah ah ah, no way, Cap.”

Steve gives him a sullen look, but steps back. Tony can feel all their eyes on him as he makes his way toward the couch, even as they get moving again too.

Natasha sets Tony's drink down on the coffee table in front of him and then sits down next to him—on the uninjured side—settling against his body.

Bruce joins them next, going back to his gaming chair, though not without casting a few glances Tony's way.

Thor flops into one of the other chairs with his pile of pizza and Steve finally sits down on the floor, setting his own plate of pizza on the coffee table.

Tony sighs and settles in, content, as Bruce unpauses the game.

–

Tony notices the others watching him more closely after that. If he's late, they call to check in on him, and at public events they position themselves around him in a way they didn't use to before, making sure he never gets isolated. It's cute.

Happy complains about it because they keep blocking his sight lines.

Apparently, there's more to it though, which Tony finds out when a month after the Cran incident when Hammer sends a couple of goons to pull him into the employee-only corridors at a gala. They're shoving him down the hall when Mjölnir smashes through the next door with Thor on the other end and they all skid to a stop.

Tony blinks. “Thor. How—”

Steve plows through the shattered door, Natasha hot on his heels. Before Hammer's idiots can even get their guns up, Natasha hits them both with the Bites, and they go down in a flurry of twitching limbs.

Thor drops Mjölnir on one of them, and Steve plants his boot on the back of the other, his face flushed and his mouth tense.

“Are you all right?” Natasha asks as she gets her breath back.

Tony looks down at the bodies and rubs his hand lightly over his forearm, which aches a little from where one of the goons had been gripping it. “I'm fine—”

Happy bursts through the door at the far end of the hallway. “BOSS!” He makes it halfway down the hall toward them before he fully takes in the scene and slows, huffing out, “Oh.”

“Sorry,” Steve says, looking contrite but determined, “we cut in on your territory, Happy.”

Meanwhile, Thor has moved in closer to Tony, one of his huge hands coming up to turn Tony's face this way and that with unexpected gentleness. “Are you certain you are not injured?”

Tony looks down at his body, thrown off by the entire situation. “Yeah, I—they didn't hurt me. Bruised my arm maybe.”

“Good,” Thor says and wraps an arm around Tony's shoulders, pulling Tony in against his side.

“What are you guys doing here?” Tony asks, brain finally starting to catch up.

Natasha is kneeling on the floor getting cuffs on one of the goons while Happy works on the other. She glances up to give him a look like he's ridiculous.

Steve steps in closer and gives Tony the same once over Thor had, although he keeps his hands to himself. “JARVIS said you'd left the expected location parameters.”

Tony blinks. “You're using my own AI to keep tabs on me?”

Steve and Thor both look a little chagrined, but Natasha stands up, and her expression is unrepentant. “You've almost gotten kidnapped five times since we've known you, Tony. We weren't just going to let that happen.”

“Excuse me,” Happy says, annoyed, as Tony replies, “The key word there is 'almost'.”

Natasha shrugs easily. “None of us are good at sitting back and letting other people handle things. No offense, Happy.”

“It's not that we don't think you do a good job,” Steve says to him, apologetic.

Thor squeezes Tony's hand. “We care too much to sit idly by when there is something to be done.”

Happy sighs. “It was bad enough being Iron Man's bodyguard. Now I'm up against the Avengers too? I'm gonna have a reputation for the world's most useless bodyguard.”

“Hey, Pepper still needs you,” Tony says, and that seems to mollify him.

Then he looks at his three teammates and the bodies on the floor at their feet. This has been part of his normal for so long he'd forgotten how other people might feel about it, and he's weirdly thrilled that his teammates have been keeping such a close eye on him since they found out. Like, it's a long term thing. They're going to keep watching out and keep coming after him.

“Hey, thanks,” he says before he can think too hard about it and all three of them look up at him. Natasha smiles and Steve reaches out and squeezes Tony's shoulder lightly.

“We have each other's backs, Tony.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. They really do, don't they?

#musicalluna writes #onemuseleft #tony stark #teamfic #iron man #hurt!tony stark #fluff #hurt/comfort #friendship #gen #kidnapping #KIDNAPPED!TONY #almost #team as family

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