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randomwriteronline · 1 month

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"Where are we going, brother?"

Pohatu doesn't answer. He keeps walking with his hand on the wall, quicker than all of them; every now and then he knocks gently on it.

There are no Rahkshi down here, no Exo-Toa or Rahi or anything. It's a tunnel that from the colosseum leads into some kind of pipe system different from the sprawling Archives, but equally as labyrinthine. Pohatu walks through it easily, knowing the general direction towards which they're going - that being, towards the Turaga, whom he sent on their own way to safety when Teridax's universe-wide attack unfolded before their powerless eyes. They'll take longer to show up where the Toa will meet them, but he knows they're a crafty lot: they'll have no trouble evading whatever might try to get them.

When asked how he's so familiar with this hidden piece of Metru Nui, he shrugged. He went for a long run all over the city on his first visit, he answered truthfully, and even when he did not add anything after the others were perfectly satisfied and did not insist with questions, because it's only natural for him to want to explore every nook and cranny of a place at maximum speed.

And because he is still on edge.

He hasn't blown up at them since they tried to ask him where he has been for one hundred thousand years, but he still flinches harshly to get their hands off of himself when they try to touch him, and he still looks at them angrily, and sometimes he still growls.

Takanuva hits his head on the ceiling and groans. His mask's silvery light stutters.

"Careful, little brother," Pohatu tells him with his normal, playful, gentle voice that lately he uses only for him, their younger siblings, and the Matoran: "That's the fifth time you try to break a hole through the tunnel."

"It's not like I'm trying," Takanuva mutters back.

"Maybe you should start shortening again?" the Toa of Stone jokes like he refuses to do with his siblings since meeting them at the Codrex. "Can't be too hard - try pulling your limbs real tight to your chest, for a start."

"And how would you suppose I'd walk, then?"

"You'll roll!"

The Av-Toa laughs a little.

He stops when the others don't join in, and his eyes ask them what makes them so uncomfortable. Gali shifts her shoulders.

Silence sits upon them like a vulture.

The color of the viaduct changes at last. Pohatu quickens his steps to build some distance between him and his siblings, awfully focused. He knocks once, then again: a high pitched hum leaves him as he stops dead in his tracks and faces the wall - his tone is indiscernible, incomprehensible, either flat or interested or something else entirely.

"What did you find, Pohatu?" Tahu asks loudly as the rest of them hurry closer.

His brother turns to him with an empty gaze and no answer.

The back of his head hurts.

And his spine, and his arms, and his legs, and his chest, and his hips, and every single minuscule atom of his entire body as it crashes against its brethren until he can barely breathe or think while the anguish lights his nerves like a wild fire raging through the forest on an impossibly dry day with a cruel hot wind that howls too strong.

The sound comes to his audio receptors later - a terrifying impact, as loud as an explosion. He turns his head, what was that? An ambush? Where did it come from? Where are his siblings?

He counts their masks in a dim light, blotches of color in his muddled vision: black, white, blue, green, red with him. He reaches for his Hau and finds his hand unable to move - is it broken? When he tries to look down his chin encounters resistance and he fails to recognize anything. Five out of seven. Five out of seven... His body hurts. Why does it hurt? Five out of seven...

A strangled grunt catches his attention.

Pohatu struggles hoisting Takanuva, who does not move, in his arms while also holding a small lightstone to see anything in this dark.

Frustrated, he lets the stone fall to the ground: "I've got you, little brother," he reassures his unconscious sibling as he plucks the Mask of Light from his face (why does he take the Mask of Light from his face?) and slips his arms around his torso, trying to lift him. "Oof - damn it all, you're so heavy now - see, that's another reason you shouldn't have been allowed to pick that cursed mask up, if you were still a Matoran this whole thing would be much easier..."

"Pohatu!" Lewa cries, panicked. "Pohatu! Are you alright?"

"Of course I am," their brother replies.

"We're trapped! Stuck!"

"I can see that."

Are they trapped? Are they -

His arms groan from the strain of being squeezed too tight and pain shoots into his eyes, burning his field of vision into scalding white. It relents slowly, leaving him winded, and as he collects himself he realizes: the opposite wall, the one Pohatu was inspecting, has lunged towards them and trapped them against its twin.

Ambush. An ambush. His body hurts. It was an ambush. His body hurts. It hurts so much he can't concentrate.

Onua chokes on what would be a shout for a few horrible seconds before heaving hard when the pressure finally eases up on him and spares him from being crushed.

What is doing this? A Rahkshi? Must be a Rahkshi. It must be.

His body hurts so much.

"Stone," he hears Kopaka breathe, "It's stone."

Stone. It's stone... So? A renegade Toa? A mutated kraata? Tahu strains to listen. No, there is no sound here: only his siblings hissing in pain as their frames are pressed and Pohatu grunting as he finally manages to secure at least the upper half of Takanuva on himself and off the ground.

Oh. Oh - oh, it's stone. It's stone! Oh, thank Mata Nui, it's stone.

Destiny decided they can be lucky for once.

"Pohatu!" he cries through gritted teeth while his chest is constricted tightly, "Pohatu - the walls, they're, it's stone - hurry, please, get it off of us!"

The answer he gets is flat, deadpan: "That'd be counterproductive."

"What?" Gali responds immediately, panic stirring around her heartlight like a whirpool - this feels too much like their confrontation, that strange feeling of wrong overwhelming in his neutral tone: "What do you mean? Pohatu-!"

Her voice cuts off with a painful whine as the rock clenches around her tight enough to make her armor creak around her limbs.

Pohatu ignores her.

They call for him multiple times. Over and over. As best as they can through the strain put on their bodies that almost drives them mad with anguish.

In the dim light their brother takes his time.

They watch him will a seat out of a portion of the wall, placing Takanuva down upon it; his masked forehead laid on his little brother's, the Avokhii in his hand (why is the Avokhii in his hand?) disappearing from sight as it is slipped away on his person, he murmurs something to the Toa of Light with a gentle tone, a comforting tone, while he holds his limp hand. His eyes extend none of that gentleness to his siblings when he turns to them.

"So!"

The wall presses hard against their bodies for a single second: pain lances through them like a downpour of spears and rips the voices out of the five of them in a swift cruel move.

Pohatu gingerly walks to stand upon their prison, twisting the lightstone in his hand, casting terrible almost tangible shadows all across the claustrophobic space as the light struggles to escape through the gaps in his fingers.

"If all goes well you'll be rotting here for, oh, roughly the rest of eternity, and I'll never have to see any of you again," he tells them almost casually as he towers over them, though there is a deep poison drooling out of his mouth. His blue visor gleams terribly, his eyes looking just as blue and cold and hard behind it: "So I guess it's as good a time as any for a little story."

He bends to look at them closer, just for a moment. In the dark, it's hard to tell his expression.

He rises again to stretch with a groan: the stone moves as malleable as fabric to meet him when he leans back, sitting himself down comfortably upon it, and he slumps forward to prop his chin in his palms as though he was looking at something so very curious.

The arrows of light from his hand carve deep lines into his mask.

"In the time before time Artakha made six Toa to protect the Great Spirit and the Av-Matoran, but that's the part that you know already," he continues as they can only stare at him, too stunned, too in pain: "You know it all up to the point where the five brave Toa go into their safe ball at the bottom of the swamp and take a nice long nap while everything around them gets destroyed. So the question is, whatever happened to the dirt one?"

His head shifts suddenly.

Tahu feels his eyes slowly digging holes into his own.

"By the way, I'm almost touched you remembered my element this time," Pohatu tells him. His voice is quiet, between a stage whisper and a real one. "Only took four to five near death experiences."

He wants to snap at him.

He wants to thrash and snarl and demand what is wrong with him.

He wants to open his mouth and speak to him.

He wants to ask him what is going on.

He wants to reach out and grab him and hold him still, and beg him to explain, and speak in a calm voice to him until everything is fixed.

He barely manages to breathe.

Pohatu holds his gaze a little longer. He blinks, and cranes his neck away from him with a sighed hum - it's so dark his expression can't be seen but the movement seems almost bored - and taps on the side of his mask with his fingers: the lightstone peeks from between them at strangled intervals.

He observes them struggle to adjust to the changes in lighting uselessly, as they are first offered bursts of brightness and then plunged back into darkness after mere seconds.

He is toying with them.

This is not Pohatu.

This cannot be Pohatu.

"I stayed in Karda Nui. I tried to evacuate the last Matoran before the energy storm swallowed them. I managed a few. I failed most of them. It was a job for six Toa, but I couldn't really hope five of them would materialize out of thin air just because they were needed."

He breaks into a short chuckle. It's a softer version of his usual booming laughter. It sputters poison all over them.

"And it's not like you would have made any difference if you'd stayed - you're barely even Toa to begin with."

This cannot be Pohatu.

This is not Pohatu.

This is a fake.

This has to be a fake.

When did they lose him? When could he have been replaced? They never lost sight of him in these tunnels, it must have been earlier. In the Colosseum? As they were returning to Metru Nui? Before escaping Karda Nui? Before he met them at the Codrex? He had mentioned it briefly, had said he had met a big bugger - a Makuta? A kraata? A shadow leech? Something else? Where is he now? Where is their brother? Where are they keeping him? Is he alive? Is he... He can't be, he can't! They can't have killed him! Unless they trapped him in Karda Nui... With the Makuta... And the storm... No, no, no, Pohatu is smart, Pohatu is quick, he can't have died there, he must have escaped. He must have escaped, and he must have made his way to Metru Nui, or maybe somewhere else safe, and he's looking for them, or planning a way to blow up Teridax while keeping the universe unharmed, or maybe he's been captured again and he's being hurt or tortured or killed and he's worried for them, maybe, maybe, maybe...

"And you'd planned to leave me to die anyways," he shrugs.

"No!" Lewa chokes out. He recoils, he shifts, he tries to twist in his prison, to break out, and treespeak spills out of him faster than he can give any of it sense.

Not like he is given much time to try to.

Halfway along his attempt at something (an appeal? An explanation? A curse? An apology?) a wail cuts him off together with a searing pain. What little light washes over him is enough to see how the rock ensnaring him wraps around his head to shut his mouth in a tight, tight, tight grip, his mask almost crushed within: the rest of his body, likely, is suffering something similar.

Pohatu waits patiently until his whimpering dies down - until he himself decides to relent the pressure a little.

"I thought you were interested in this story," he says as he tilts his head. His brother struggles to breathe through the stone binding his mouth as he gives him a desperate look: the Toa of Stone remains unbothered. "You even made me heartpromise to tell you," and his tone is sneering when he mentions the word, "So why are you interrupting me now? Am I boring you? Are you bored? Should I stop? I can stop. I have other things to do."

Lewa's inarticulate whines sound like sobs, but can't answer.

Pohatu stretches his legs: "Alright then! Saves me time."

"Wait," Onua rasps. He struggles to speak while his lungs are compressed, limiting how much air he's allowed to inhale. "Wait. Please. Where... How... How... The storm... You... Survived..."

"Evidently I did, if I'm here," his brother replies. "Even if you think it's a real shame I didn't get vaporized."

"Don't... We don'... Don'... Please... Please... Breathe... Can't... Please..."

No answer.

Breathing gets harder.

He can't see.

He's going to faint.

He's going to...

Going to...

Going...

To...

Finally the pressure leaves.

He gasps noisily, greedily, exhausted.

Pohatu watches him like he's a disgusting squirming krana, struggling to writhe to safety as it lays on marshy ground.

"But yes," he continues softly. "I am here because I did escape. When I couldn't hope to bring any more little siblings to safety, and I couldn't hear their screams over the crackling of the storm, I followed your example and ran away. Then the Makuta found me, and took pity on me - isn't that funny? The Makuta, taking pity on something? Something as weak and useless as me? - and they kept me in their brotherhood. And the were all so very nice to me, like you've been ever since you couldn't remember how you used to think of me, for a few hundred years or so, before they got bored of such a sad sack of gravel and left me to rot outside of their laboratories."

There are so many things wrong in what he says.

So many, all at once.

The faint light illuminates a smile beneath his mask - a small, honest, deeply fond smile: "Except Teridax, of course."

Fire rises beneath Tahu's armor.

"What did he do to you?"

Pohatu looks at him almost surprised.

"What did he do to you?" the Toa of Fire repeats, louder, more insistent. It's so clear now. The deception, the bitterness, the harshness, all of this - if this is truly their brother, who else but Makuta Teridax could turn him against them in such a cruel way, so thoroughly convince him they hate him?

He can't see her, so much does rage narrow his vision, but he hears Gali's voice: "Pohatu," and it shakes a little with his same anger, even if the only thing she can say is their brother's name, unable even to demand of his what she wants to know, because what else is there for a sister to say when her loved one has been molded into a bitter misshapen shade of himself by as dreadful a thing as her old enemy? "Pohatu - Pohatu--"

In the dim light, a stunned expression widens into a grin.

The Toa of Stone leans forward: "Do you want to know?" he whispers, conspiratorial, "Do you want to know what he did to me? The ghastly, horrible, torturous thing he's subjected me to?"

They must say something in their fury, some kind of affirmation: they need to know, of course they do! To better make him regret it!

Carefully, slowly, Pohatu places the lightstone down before himself.

Its faint light illuminates him better, more clearly, so that they can observe him much better: his armor is completely unmmarred from the rotting color given by a kraata's corruption, its shape is unchanged, his eyes are the same. He lets them watch closely as nothing in his appearence changes or shifts - as every single part of him remains perfectly still, the same as they've always known.

He watches them back; he smiles as he does, looking at them wait for something, anything.

He grins wider, perfectly identical to himself.

"He cared about me."

The look on their faces is just... Comical.

Pohatu laughs.

"Isn't that insane?" he taunts them. "Just absolutely demented? Who would ever think of that, to care for me? About me? To think I'm good, and useful? To find some sort of worth in me? He's always been drawn to revolutionary concepts, but this one might just be too far!"

He laughs.

He laughs so hard.

It's an almost hysterical sound that rattles the tunnel in its entirety and echoes through it, loud, erratic, horrible, stuck somewhere between genuine and mocking, amused and furious. It's so strong that he holds his face in his hand and folds in on himself, and the way his shoulders jump with every wailing chuckle almost makes him look like he is crying his heart out.

"What a stupid idea!" he struggles to shriek out as he laughs, "Devoting time to me! Reassuring me! Praising me! Me!"

He coughs.

Twice, thrice, a few more times.

He knocks on his chest to get all of it out of him until he finally stops, utterly winded, groaning as he tries to catch his breath. A giggle or two still falls from his mouth from time to time. It's getting harder to tell if they are not sobs.

A deep inhale - and his hands are back under his chin, an amused grin is back on his face, a sudden incoherent calm is back over him.

"So to answer the original question, the dirt one spent a hundred thousand years awake helping the only being who ever gave a widget about him with his plan while his brave siblings slept nice and tight in their canisters," he continues, right where he left off, as though he hadn't been caught in a rapturous maddened amusement just seconds earlier. "And he watched everything, from the Barraki's imprisonment to the Metru Nui civil war, to the Dark Hunters setting their sights on the heads of the Brotherhood, to the Toa Metru foiling a perfectly fine plan when they shouldn't have endangering hundreds of Matoran in the process, until a litte Rama told him that the other five had decided to get up for once. And then the rest you should know, if you haven't forgotten it already."

Silence.

Comical.

Absolutely comical.

Look at them stare, struggling to breathe.

Look at the disbelief dripping from their masks as though they just emerged from a pool of it.

Pohatu looks at them, nice and long, and everything in his body aches so terribly that he thinks what he feels might finally be release.

He's finally done it. Finally, finally, now that he has them here at his mercy, accused and tried for their failings, punished but not killed, he's purged every single drop of vitriol boiling within himself upon them and he's free. His guilt and hatred and phantom pains of limbs he never had is theirs now; he is allowed to live unburdened by the person their disgust of him angrily shaped him into.

"You lied to us," Gali speaks softly.

He tilts his head at her: "Hm."

"From the beginning."

"Put a date to this beginning. Mine is waking up with you five to Artakha's voice in that blasted chamber."

"You... You can't be him." her voice is unsteady. "You can't be him."

"Who?"

"Pohatu. My brother. You can't be him. Pohatu is-"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" he interrupts her. "You'd love for me to be dead."

"Pohatu isn't like this!" she almost roars. He can feel her - how she trembles furiously within the stone, desperate to break through it. "Pohatu isn't a liar! He isn't a being this overwhelmed by hatred!"

"You would know," the other croons, but his eyes sour. "The most trustworthy source is the one that wasn't there, isn't it."

"I know my brother!" Gali shakes; the binds around her creak like a poorly constructed dam against the rush of a raging river. "I've fought with him, joked with him, confided in him! I could recognize him anywhere! I know who he is! I love him!"

"YOU LEFT ME!"

The wall groans horribly with them as it crushes them within itself.

Takanuva, unseen, twitches barely as he remains trapped in a shapeless bad dream.

The being standing before them has his hands balled so tight into his own fists that they can hear the adaptive armor shriek as it dents and scratches itself. He heaves long deep breaths with difficulty, as though the air in the tunnel wasn't enough.

The lightstone is half buried within the rock, almost cracked: lances of its glow make him seem larger than he already is, and his eyes behind the visor burn.

"You LEFT me," he repeats. His breathless voice is a faraway avalanche coming ever closer, dragging the world down upon them with it. "You left us to die. You knew what would happen, and you did not tell me. You did not tell anybody - it was your secret safety exit, not mine, not the Matoran's, just yours. All yours. Just for the five of you. The Order of Mata Nui made it just for you," and here it turns into a whine, a whimper, a plead for help that mauls the fingers reaching out to lend their earnest aid, "Just for you five, nobody else, nobody else - there were only five canisters, weren't there? Weren't there? Not six, only five, because you all planned it together, behind my back, behind our little siblings' backs, because there was never any need for me or them, was there? No need at all, and no need to tell us, no need at all. Nobody wants to know they'll die, nobody does, nobody deserves to know they will die even when death can't be avoided so they can at least make peace with it or fight back against it, and that's why our little brothers and sister aren't little anymore, isn't it? Ah-"

His hands open, the stone clenches; his hands close, the stone clenches. He folds and unfolds his fists maniacally, histerically, as he struggles to breathe, mouth agape beneath his mask, eyes trained onto the agonizing Toa and barely seeing them.

"Ah, you are just like those pests," the words drool out of him like foamy spit, and by how hard he shakes he really does seem to be convulsing, "Those damned rats - ah, ah, Mata Nui truly has a fondness for liars and cowards, doesn't he? Must see himself in them, if he keeps choosing them as his guard - if he keeps favoring them, giving them power, trying to save them - ah, ah..."

"Pohatu," is all that Kopaka manages to choke out.

The being heaving and trembling turns to him with a slow, stunted motion and the empty eyes of a mad Rahi. His mind seems to be elsewhere, but he holds his gaze and waits.

Despite the pain and struggle to inhale, Kopaka's quiet voice fills the silence: "They did not know."

No answer meets him.

The wall softens against them. Their limbs ache so much that focusing on anything else is impossible, but at least breathing comes less hard.

The Toa of Ice hisses as to not crumble.

He needs to speak.

If he speaks, the other will calm.

If he calms, he will be more likely to listen.

If he listens, everything can be cleared, and this will stop.

He needs to speak.

Great Spirit damn him and his abysmal storytelling.

"The storm, and the Codrex," he struggles through the words as he tries to carefully construct his sentence. "I knew. I did not tell you. And I did not plan to. That is true. It seemed like a sound plan. As you said - nobody wants to know... Nobody wants to know they could die. It seemed like a good idea. It was not. It was not. I was... The only one who knew. And I did not tell anybody. When you... Cornered me - you can read me so easily. You always could. When you cornered me - I told you. And I - the way I worded myself, was wrong. I never... Meant... That anybody else knew. I was... It was... My plan."

"Kopaka-"

"My plan," he insists over Tahu's interruption. He knows what he wants to do, but he can take the blame. He wants to. It's his fault this is happening. "Only mine. You... I would have. All of you - I would have kept quiet. And we all would have gone in. You included. That was the plan. It was always the plan. All six of us. Your canister - it was there. For you. But I was the only one, who knew. I was-"

He hushes suddenly. His head cranes, his eyes shut. The sound of the stone that slams a dent into his temple comes with a delay due to how quickly it happens.

Lewa's cry out to him is muffled by the rock muzzling him.

His brother can't respond anyways.

"That's a lie," Pohatu only says hoarsely.

The wall hardens around their bodies again (Kopaka's doesn't even lament his pain at all, completely limp) and Onua lurches forward despite the ache ricocheting through his entire being, Pakari glowing faintly to lend him enough strength to fight back: "No!" he growls, "He's telling the truth! We didn't know! We didn't know! We were just as angry as you - if we'd-!"

His mask dims as his head falls back. Another ghastly bang marks, a bit late, the appearance of the dent that knocks him out.

"That's another lie," Pohatu repeats.

He sounds tired.

His eyes wander over his last three conscious siblings, frozen in a horrified terror: "Who's next," he asks, though there is no questioning inflection to his words - only a horrifying exhausted wrath that gnaws at his tendons even when there is barely anything left for it to eat. "Who else wants to lie to me. Don't be shy. Don't be shy, do it, you've done it a hundred times before. Don't be shy."

Lewa sobs. He wails within the cage that constricts his mask, looks at him with eyes wider than a moon, howls without words.

The muzzle tightens and chokes his scream inside it.

"They're not dead," Pohatu spits. "I am a Toa. I don't kill."

He knows it doesn't make them feel any safer, because he knows they can hear his entire body straining to scream no matter how much I might want to, no matter how much you would deserve it through his mouth.

He knows he doesn't want to. He knows he never wanted. He knows it has to be them - provoking him, poking at him like one does at a dying ember to make it spark some more. They want to break him completely and tear away from him the only thing they can't have: the knowledge that he's in the right. The knowledge that he's the only one out of them who was ever deserving of being called a Toa.

It must be them. It must be them. Because they hate him.

They hate him, and so he hates them.

So it must be them.

At least, his inaction makes them squirm.

Tahu calls out to him. He turns to him, so tired, so heavy.

"Those thousands of years ago," he speaks in a calculated manner, careful, because even though he wants to make him break the code he is still afraid of death (not because he is still trying to reach out to the Pohatu he knows, the brother he loves, that can't be it, because they hate him) "What did Kopaka tell you?"

"The truth," the Toa of Stone replies quietly. "And I know it was the truth, because it would have been easier to rip the words from inside his throat than wait for him to tell me."

"And what was the truth?"

"Your plan. He told me you and him were told what what to do. He told me the five of you would have gone in before the storm would have hit. He told me you would have been safe while it descended on Karda Nui the Matoran. He told me you would have gone into the canisters and waited until duty called you to action again."

"We didn't know," Gali whispers before her brother can stop her. "Lewa, Onua and I, we didn't know."

Her arms creak as they are almost flattened.

She bites back a scream.

"Of course you knew," Pohatu shuts her down with a bitter glance. "You must have known. Nobody else asked Kopaka any questions. Nobody else needed to be told. He said, we'll get to safety. We'll enter the Codrex. The five of you. Not me. Not the Matoran."

"That 'we' always included you, too," Tahu says. He sounds like he's begging him for something. "You're our brother."

His brother's fist tightens: "Then why didn't you come for me," he asks in that flat tone. "Why didn't you track me down. Why didn't you bother to chase after me to explain yourselves. Why didn't you force me into that blasted thing. Why didn't you drag me with you, kicking and screaming as I might have been."

In the dim light, the Toa of Fire falters; he gasps for air for a moment, searching for excuses, before he lowers his eyes and admits, ashamed: "I thought we wouldn't have time."

"You left me." Pohatu translates.

Tahu shakes his head.

"You left me," Pohatu repeats, harsher, voice cracking softly: "I was your brother and you left me to die."

Before any of them can argue otherwise, the wall closes around their bodies to crush them once more with an agonizing tardiness, piercing white hot pain through their brains like a drill; it wanes just as slowly to give them a moment of respite in which they struggle to recognize the echoes of their own groans and wails still traveling through the tunnels.

Pohatu's body obstructs what little light the cracked stone still shines as he collects Takanuva in his arms ever more easily than the first time he tried to do so. He moves his little brother's head to lean on his shoulder, so that he can be at least a bit more comfortable; he nuzzles it gently, comfortingly.

Poor Takua.

He didn't deserve this.

His last look at his siblings still sizzles with poison.

"Scream as loud as you want," is all he tells them, venom dripping from every syllable: "You have all the time in the world, and nobody to hear you."

Then his mask gleams; in the blink of an eye everything goes dark, and the wall clenches its grip around them again.

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graceful-starker · 7 months

Text

Peter's Boyfriend ch. 4

Chapter Four - Moving Forward

Summary: The gang is back from Thanksgiving Break, and they have stories.

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol use, panic attacks, nose bleeds, mentions of past violence. (If I missed anything please let me know! I think I covered it all).

Word count/rating: 9.3k, rated M.

Notes: Massive shoutout to Kimsberly on ao3 who left a great comment on this fic and gave me so much inspiration to continue.

I have two prequel fics coming out in the next few days, one to delve into the messiness that is the Nat/Bruce/Clint situation, and one that goes into the Sam/Bucky/Steve situation.

~~~

Peter bounces excitedly on the balls of his feet, checking his phone yet again to make sure Wade said he would be here. He’s been back on campus literally only ten minutes-only just long enough to drop his stuff off in his dorm room before he booked it here.

The door opens, and Beck is sneering at him. “Oh. You.”

Peter doesn’t let it get to him; he’s just excited to see his boyfriend again. “Beck,” he greets softly. “How was your break?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Beck says rudely, and Peter’s eye twitches. “Wilson!” Beck stands aside and lets Peter in, and Peter just skirts past him shyly. He doesn’t get why this dude dispises him, but whatever.

Wade thumps down the stairs loudly, and the smile on his face is so bright and beautiful that Peter almost swoons. “Peter!” He greets, before tackling Peter in a bear hug.

Peter giggles happily, wrapping his arms around Wade’s neck and letting himself be twirled. Wade always makes him feel so special; like he’s priceless. Like Wade is the one who can’t believe they’re together. “I missed you,” he giggles, smiling up at Wade once he’s put back down.

Wade connects their lips excitedly, and pulls Peter into his body. Beck makes a gagging noise behind them, so Wade pulls back and flips him off. “Go be lonely somewhere else, you’re pissing me off.”

Beck scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he thankful leaves towards the kitchen area.

Peter laughs and looks back to Wade, a giant smile fixed on his face. “Let’s go to your room,” he suggests, moving his hand down Wade’s arm to intertwine their fingers.

Wade grins and nods, starting to lead the way. “I didn’t know if you had eaten yet, so I ordered some pizza for us to munch on.”

Peter giggles, following just half a step behind Wade. “I had breakfast but it was an early one, the drive here is annoying as hell,” he jokes. They go into the room, and Wade shuts and locks it behind them.

“It’s on my desk if you’re hungry. I already had a slice-sorry,” he says cheekily, ducking his head.

Peter only smiles, grabbing himself a slice and sitting on Wade’s desk chair. “How was your break?”

“It was okay,” Wade says, sitting on his bed and stretching his arms over his head. “I stayed here, looked after the house and all that. Most people go home during breaks, so it was kinda lonely.” He gives Peter puppy dog eyes.

Peter grins after swallowing a bite. “Poor baby. Why didn’t you go home?”

“Don’t like my parents all that much,” he says, shrugging. “What about you, how was your break?”

“It was good,” Peter says, putting his slice down and dusting his hands off. “I uh…I came out to May,” he ducks his head, feeling a blush start to slowly form. “I told her about us. She says she likes you already,” he looks up at Wade from under his lashes, biting his lip.

Wade is smiling, his eyes warm. “What lies did you tell her about me to make her like me?”

Peter laughs, looking up fully and smiling back. “Just that you make me happy and you…” he blushes, but he laughs breathily and continues. “You make me feel likle you…”

Wade stands up, slotting himself between Peter’s legs and smiling down at him. “Like I love you?” he whispers.

Peter’s eyes widen, and his breath catches. “You love me?”

Wade nods, one hand sliding under Peter’s chin to gently convince him not to look away. “I love you, Peter Parker.”

Peter stares at him for a second, eyes wide and jaw slack with awe. Peter. Wade loves Peter. He actually loves Peter, actually wants this relationship. He makes Peter feel so unbelievably happy all the time, just by being himself-and he loves Peter. Peter surges up, making Wade stumble just a bit but niether of them care. Peter connects their lips in a fierce kiss, one hand tangling in the back of Wade’s short hair and the other cupping the back of his neck.

Wade makes a surprised noise, but his hands go to Peter’s hips and he gives as good as he gets back into the kiss. He pulls Peter with him back to the bed, letting himself fall back so he’s sitting on the edge and Peter is standing between his legs. “Peter,” he mumbles into the kiss, not pulling away enough to really get the name out.

Peter hums softly, smiling into the kiss. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers, letting his hands cup Wade’s neck gently.

Wade pulls back, breath hitching and eyes dark. “Really? You’re sure that you’re ready? We don’t have to go all the way, you know I like what we-”

Peter laughs breathlessly, kissing Wade again softly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” he says, only pulling back enough to actually see Wade’s eyes.

Wade swallows thickly, surging up to connect their lips one more time before starting to kiss down Peter’s neck. Peter tilts his head to the side, climbing into Wade’s lap and humming softly. Wade puts his hands on Peters hips, helping him balance, and then pulls away to smile at Peter. “You’ll let me know if you want me to stop, right?”

Peter nods, even though he’s almost entirely sure he isn’t going to want Wade to stop. “Promise,” he whispers, before connecting their lips together again.

Wade picks Pete rup by the back of his thighs and turns them around, resting Peter gently on the bed on his back, the pillows under his head. Peter blushes and smiles up at him, running his hands along Wade’s body. Wade starts to get undressed, and Peter half watches him and half attempts to get himself naked.

He’s done this part before. They’ve fooled around some; blowjobs and handjobs and even a very fun night where Wade fucked his thighs. But he’s never done this part with anyone at all. He wants to do it with Wade so bad, though.

Wade smiles and crawls over Peter, running his hands over Peter’s body before ducking down and connecting their lips. “Beautiful,” Wade whispers.

Peter blushes and runs his own hands along Wade’s body. “Wade,” he whispers, gasping when Wade’s hand wraps around him.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Wade asks again, kissing Peter’s nose.

Peter grins, moving his hands up Wade’s sides and nodding. “Yes. I want this-I want you so bad.” He spreads his legs apart, moving them so his knees bracket Wade’s hips. “Say it again,” he says, brushing his lips against Wade’s again.

“I love you,” Wade says easily, slotting their hips together and kissing Peter passionately.

Peter feels like he’s on cloud nine. His first time with Wade was about as close to perfect as he coud have hoped for, it was every bit as romantic and good as he imagined it would be.

He walks into his bio lecture and doesn’t even care about anything else; he doesn’t care that Tony is going to ignore him and sit on the other side of the room. He doesn’t even care what Tony said about him, or thinks about him. He doesn’t care that all his friends think it’s Peter’s fault Tony is being an asshole. Nothing matters except for the way his legs are still kinda wobbly and he’s just the perfect amount of sore to make him feel warm and floaty.

Peter is so lost in thought about how much he doesn’t care about Tony anymore that he almost doesn’t notice Tony coming to sit next to him until he’s taking the desk.

Peter straightens up, holding his pencil just a bit tighter. He looks at Tony from the corner of his eye, his leg starting to bounce anxiously.

“Did you have a good break, Pete?” Tony asks suddenly, and it’s said so casually. So normally. As if Tony never said anything wrong, as if he doesn’t even remember ever fighting with Peter.

Peter turns to look at him, blinking slowly. “What?”

Tony shifts, rubbing his thumb over his pencil nervously. “I asked how your break was. You went to see your aunt, right?”

Peter stares at him, long enough that Tony starts to squirm. He rubs a finger under his nose, before scratching at his beard. “You’re just going to pretend you didn’t say all of that to me?” he finally asks.

Tony squirms, clears his throat, and adjusts his notes on the desk. “I’m sorry I…” he turns to look at Peter, chewing on his lip. “I don’t think that way about you, Peter. I think you’re…” he looks away again, over his shoulder. “I miss you, Peter,” he whispers.

Peter frowns, looking back to his own desk and sighing. “You made me feel like shit, Tony. Like nothing. You-”

“Alright, everyone, quiet down. I’m sure you have lots to catch up on with each other from the break, but you can save it for after my lecture. Now, before the break, we left off on…”

Peter sighs softly and picks up his pencil, getting ready to take notes. He notices Tony shifting restlessly next to him, and towards the end of class he gets up and leaves. He doesn’t take his notes, so Peter assumes he’s just going to the bathroom or something. He comes back just before the end of class, seemingly more settled.

“Alright, that’s about time. Don’t forget your assignment is due before next class period, not 11:59 like it usually is. Have a good day guys!” the professor ends, starting to pack up her stuff.

Peter starts to pack his own stuff up, but as he’s standing Tony stands in front of his desk. “Peter?” he asks, looking down at his feet.

“What, Tony?” he asks, sighing heavily. He just wants to go and meet Wade in the student union, so they can grab some food and hang out.

“I really am sorry. I was a dick, a massive one, and you didn’t deserve any of it. You didn’t deserve the way I ignored you, you didn’t deserve any of the things I said to you, and you didn’t deserve the way I treated you right before break. I’m sorry, Peter. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to keep-” he curses softly and brings a hand to his nose.

Peter’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Shit, is your nose bleeding? Do you need a tissue?”

Tony sighs, tilting his head back and shaking his head. “I don’t want to keep being an asshole, and I don’t want to keep-keep…I want to be your friend again, Peter. I miss you, and I’m sorry I was so awful to you.”

Peter pulls a tissue out of his back pack and hands it to Tony, who sighs and takes it reluctantly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize before,” he mumbles.

Tony laughs, folding the tissue and keeping it to his nose. He’s gotten blood all over his face and hand, and he looks so pitiful that it makes Peter’s heart hurt. “I don’t usually care enough about what people think to do it,” he answers honestly.

Peter gives him a sad smile. “You’ll have to work really hard to make it up to me, Tones,” he says, but uses his old nickname to show he’s mostly forgiven.

Tony smiles, eyes lighting up with hope. “I will, if you let me. I’ll be the best friend ever, I swear. I’ll-I’ll do whatever it takes to make you trust me again.”

Peter blushes a bit, but cocks his head to the side. “Come on, we need to get you cleaned up. You got blood all over yourself. And what did you do to your eye? You're a whole mess.”

Tony laughs, a bit awkward, and starts to walk towards the bathroom. “I wasn’t paying attention and walked into a doorway. But if anyone asks, say it was something cool. Say I won a fight or something.”

Peter giggles, turning on the sinks and grabbing some paper towels. “Sure, you got into a fight with some rando back home. You should see the other guy.”

Tony grins, wiping his face down and sniffing, inspecting his nose. “Yeah, the other guy.” He turns and smiles at Peter, throwing the towel away. “Fuck that guy.”

“Got what was comin’ to ‘him,” Peter agrees, adjusting the strap on his back pack. “You hungry? I’m meeting up with Wade for lunch, if you wanna come.”

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Tony says, looking away. “I should probably get some homework done, I barely did anything over the break.”

Peter rolls his eyes fondly. “No one did anything over the break, it was break.”

Tony huffs and looks back up at Peter. “I don’t wanna intrude, it sounds like a date.”

“Nah,” Peter says, bumping shoulders with Tony and starting to lead the way. “It’s just meeting up, he’s taking me to dinner tomorrow night after his practice. I bet a couple of his brothers will be there, at least Matt. Come on!”

Tony hums, following at Peter’s side. “Alright then, if you’re absolutely sure he won’t get pissed that I’m there.”

“He’s chill,” Peter says, smiling at just the thought of Wade. “You would know that if you had talked to him by now.”

Tony winces, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Pete,” he mumbles.

Peter knocks their shoulders again, giving Tony a smile. “Come on, he’s already waiting.” They start walking, Tony talking about their bio assignment due before next class. They’re halfway there when Peter stops walking. Tony almost keeps going, has to turn around and give Peter a confused look. “Can I tell you something? It’s-it’s about Wade. But I want to tell someone, and you’re my best friend, and-”

Tony smiles at him, nodding encouragingly. “You can tell me anything, Pete.”

Peter smiles, takes a deep breath. “Wade told me that he loves me, yesterday,” he says, and he can’t even stop the fluttery giggles that escape from him. Even just thinking about Wade saying it makes him feel so warm and fuzzy.

“That’s-” Tony’s eyes widen, and he forces a smile. Peter knows it’s forced, but if Tony really wants to be his friend again, he’s going to have to be willing to listen to this stuff. “That’s great, Pete. That’s exciting!”

“Yeah,” Peter says dreamily, starting to walk again and letting Tony fall into step beside him. “I can’t believe it. Someone loves me, Tony. My boyfriend loves me.”

“I can believe it,” Tony mumbles, and Peter chooses not to look at him. “You’re the best person I know. I’m surprised more people aren’t tripping over themselves to try for a chance with you.”

Peter blushes a bit, ducking his head. “I don’t know about all that, Tones.”

“Nah,” Tony says, and his voice is lighter now, more humorous. “Prettiest boy on campus, and you just so happen to also be the nicest and you’re super smart. And now you’re dating a football player, so you’re taken–line around the block, kid.”

Peter blushes and giggles, shooting Tony a giant smile. “Shut up,” he says, pushing Tony just enough to make him stumble a step.

“No, seriously. There’s nothing about you to not love.” Tony shoulder checks him gently, and his eyes are half sad.

“We slept together,” Peter blurts out, having to look away from Tony’s expression.

“You-you lost you-” Tony’s eyes are wide.

“Yeah,” Peter says, smiling at the memory of the way he felt. “It was like I always wanted it to be. He was-he was great.”

Tony is grinning again, and he shoves Peter playfully. “Look at you! They grow up so fast.”

Peter blushes and laughs, shoving him back. “Shut up,” he says, turning them to the sidewalk leading to where they’re meeting Wade.

Tony snickers and opens the door, letting Peter walk through first. “Hey, now nobody can make fun of you anymore. You aren’t even the most innocent person in the group now!”

Peter blinks and looks to Tony, leading them to the area Wade said he would meet him at. “Who are you thinking of?”

“Wanda and Vis,” Tony says, furrowing his brows. “Obviously.”

Peter smirks and shakes his head. “You’re delusional if you think they aren’t fucking.”

Tony gasps, putting a hand over his heart. “Nah, nah. No way. They’re babies.”

“Tones, they went to high school together. I’ll bet five bucks they lost their v-cards under the bleachers at some football game junior year.” Peter spots Wade and smiles widely, waving at him. “Yeah, see? He brought Matt. Come on, you’ll love them both.”

Tony is seemingly in a disturbed trance at Peter’s news about Wanda and Vis, but follows Peter anyway. “No way…” he whispers.

Peter rolls his eyes and gives Wade’s cheek a kiss before sitting across from him. “Hey Matt, Wade! This is Tony, he’s my friend.”

Wade side eyes Tony, likely wondering what’s changed since the last time Peter cried about his best friend ignoring him. But he smiles and nods to them both. “Hey, baby. Nice to meet you, Tony. You feeling alright, Peter?”

Peter blushes a bit, but he nods and smiles. “Yeah, I’m good. Great.”

Matt smirks, cocking his head to the side. Peter is always just a little freaked out by him; it’s like he knows things. Like he sees things everyone else can’t even though he’s blind. “Nice to meet you, Tony. Is Tony in your biology lecture, Peter?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, stealing a fry from Wade’s tray. “We just came from there.”

“Well, you guys should go get in line. I think we’re about to get flooded with students.” Matt turns his face towards the door.

Peter bolts up, grabbing Tony by the arm. “Come on.”

“What?” Tony asks, looking confused. “There’s no one here.”

“Matt is never wrong,” Wade supplies, munching on a fry and grinning. “Oh look, here they come,” hen nods to the window facing out, and it’s like a whole building of classes let out at once.

“Damn,” Tony says, laughing. “Come on!”

Peter laughs and leads him towards a line at a burger place, grinning. It feels almost normal, and he couldn’t be happier.

Peter sighs and leans against the wall outside of Bucky and Steve’s apartment. “Well I wouldn’t sound so sad if you just came with me,” he mumbles into the phone, knowing he’s pouting but he can’t seem to help it.

“We’re initiating this semester’s new freshman,” Wade says for what’s probably the tenth time, and Peter can practically feel the impatience rolling off of him through the phone. “I can’t miss this.”

“I know,” Peter whines, crossing his free arm over his torso. “Still.”

Wade chuckles softly, and Peter hears someone start the music in the background. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises lightly. “I’ll blow your mind when you get back tonight.”

Peter feels himself shiver, and a grin grows on his face. “Promises,” Peter says, voice lilting with laughter.

“Yeah, I promise,” Wade says, a grin evident in his voice. “And I’ll keep you in bed all weekend too, you’ll have jelly for legs by Monday.”

Peter feels his face heat up, and he giggles softly. “Stop it,” he whispers, as if anyone could hear them.

“You won’t be saying that again all weekend,” Wade promises, and Peter can almost see him wiggling his eyebrows at Peter.

Peter laughs and pushes himself off the wall, sighing heavily. “I’ll hold you too that, babe. I’ll see you later tonight,” he says.

Wade hums and laughs softly. “See you later, sweetheart,” Wade says, before hanging up.

Peter sighs and pockets his phone, taking a few deep breaths before opening the door. “Hey guys!” he calls, and follows the sounds of greeting to the living room.

Bucky and Steve have their apartment set up differently than Thor or Tony, who have lots of couches and loveseats scattered around. They have exactly one couch in the middle of the room, which can seat four people if you squeeze. When they all meet at this apartment, they drag the chairs from their kitchen table in, as well as their desk chairs, and everyone has to make do with those or find a comfy spot on the floor.

Peter’s finds it cozier. It reminds him of May's apartment.

When he walks in, it seems like they decided to forgo the furniture, as the couch is pushed back slightly and there are no chairs. Instead, there’s a ton of blankets laid out on the floor and a few pillows scattered around. The coffee table stays in the middle of the room, and there are three cases of beers and two bowls of chips resting on it. “Well this is fun,” Peter says, smiling.

Steve looks up from his spot leaning against the couch, smiling at Peter reluctantly. They haven’t spoken since Steve told him about Tony, other than Steve texting him apologies. “Pizza is on its way too. Bucky thought this might be more fun, since we’re catching up and all.” He pulls a can of beer out and offers it to Peter.

Peter hums and looks around the room. Bucky is on Steve’s right, talking to Sam on his other side. Rhodey is sitting on the curve of the circle next to Sam, on his phone, and there’s an empty space on his other side. Natasha is sitting on Steve’s left, half in Clint’s lap, who is next to her. Thor is on the other curve, talking to Bruce who’s next to him. Wanda and Vis aren’t here yet, and neither is Tony. He takes the beer and opens it, thanking Steve.

Not really wanting to talk to Rhodey or Bruce right now, he sits in the middle of the circle, surrounded by empty spaces, and smiles at Sam and Bucky. “Do you guys have your anth midterms back yet?” he asks across the coffee table, just to say something.

Bucky groans dramatically, leaning into Sam who’s put an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Why would you even bring that up?” he pouts.

Peter laughs, grabbing a chip and nibbling on it. “I’ve gotten all of my midterm grades back except for my intro to philosophy class. But I’m convinced he’s just high all the time and probably forgot he’s a professor anyway.”

Sam snorts at that, shaking his head fondly. “You have that class with Vis, right?”

Peter nods while taking another bite. “Yup. I don’t wanna ask him about it though, because he’ll start telling me about his answers and stuff. I’m only taking it for the humanities credit!”

Bucky grins at him. “You mean you don’t want to debate for hours who the better philosopher was between Aristotle and Plato?”

Peter makes a face that gets the both of them laughing, and he scoots a bit closer to Rhodey so he’s more facing firmly in between the couple. “Half the time when Vis talks, I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Like I think he’s speaking English, but I’m just nodding along and hoping he doesn’t ask me what I think.”

“No one will make you feel more stupid than a philosopher,” Sam agrees lighthartedly. He takes a sip of his own beer.

The door opens and Wanda walks in, pulling Vis with her by the hand. “Hello everyone!” she greets, and then smiles as she takes in the circle. “Oh, lovely!”

Bucky waves at them. “Hey Wanda, Vis. How’s it going?”

Vis chooses to sit next to Bruce, so Wanda sits next to him and leans into his side. “I’m good, but all my professors decided to assign a million assignments first week back from break.”

Bruce laughs, turning to face the couple. “Dr. Stephens actually gave us a whole packet he wants us to get done this weekend. Six pages full of stupid physics equations, just shoot me now.”

Wanda grins and looks over Vis to talk to him. “We should set up a time to work on it together,” she suggests. “When do you work?”

“You mean, so you can ask me questions and copy my answers,” he teases her, shaking his head fondly. “I work all day on Saturday, but I get off at 4:00 on Sunday.”

“Can I come over to your apartment around 5:00, then?” she asks with a cheeky smirk, not denying his accusation. She grabs a couple beers, passing one to Vis before taking a sip of her own.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he grumbles, but laughs and leans back again. Peter can’t help but smile; his friends are all so…interesting.

The door opens once more and Peter turns his attention to the last newcomer, smiling softly as Tony walks in. “Hey everyone!” Tony calls, walking in and smiling. He shuts the door behind him. “Caught the delivery guy on the way up, so I bring weed and pizza.”

The group whoops as a whole, and Tony sets the pizza boxes down in the middle of the coffee table, on top of the beers. Then he sits in between Peter and Rhodey, rummaging through his pockets before pulling out a blunt and lighter. “You wanna go first, Pete?” Tony asks, offering it to him.

Peter doesn’t really smoke, and he thought Tony would know that by now. He’s eaten a special brownie once, but his trip was…not fun, to say the least. “Uh…”

“That’s your attempt to make up?” Rhodey hisses, soft enough it might have meant to not be overheard. “Give me that,” he says louder, shoving the blunt between his lips and shooting Tony a look. “Where’d you get the shiner anyway?” Peter thinks they must still be fighting themselves, if Tony hasn’t seen Rhodey all week.

Tony blinks and looks from Peter to Rhodey, making an annoyed noise. “Got in a fight over break,” he says simply, and seems to start a silent conversation with Rhodey.

“A fight?” Natasha asks, drawing attention away from them. “That doesn’t sound like a relaxing break. Who’d you get in a fight with, anyway?”

Thor snorts, grabbing a slice of pizza with one hand and keeping the other in his lap. “I’ll bet ten dollars I had the worst break.”

“Nah,” Bruce says, staring jealously at the still unlit blunt in Rhodey’s mouth. “I spent my whole break getting yelled at by my mother and working. You wanna know what I had for Thanksgiving dinner? A turkey sub from that place on 6th.”

Rhodey finally lights the blunt when Tony looks away, taking a long drag before passing it straight to Bucky who smirks at Sam before starting his own hit. “Don’t look at me, I had a great break. Food was great, my family is great.”

“My parents forgot I was coming home,” Vis pipes up, grabbing two slices of pizza and handing one to Wanda. “They apparently booked a trip to Hawaii. I spent the whole week alone, and I had stale chips for Thanksgiving dinner.”

Bruce shoves Vis’s shoulder lightly, sticking his tongue out at him. “Fine, you beat mine.”

Bucky passes the blunt to Steve, and Steve takes a much longer hit than he normally does. He wheezes just a bit on the exhale, but passes it on to Nat without a coughing fit. “I almost wish my parents forgot about me. I spent the whole week lying through my teeth about my entire life.”

Bucky frowns, turning a bit to look at Steve. “What’re you lying to Sarah for?”

Steve groans, shooting him a playful glare. “What am I not lying to her about? My major, my religion, my relationship status…”

“Dude,” Bucky says, eyes wide. “You haven’t even told her you’re not seeing Peggy anymore? That was two years ago!”

Steve ducks his head. “She makes Ma happy,” he mumbles.

Clint is already passing the blunt onto Thor by the time Peter breaks the silence after that. “I had a good time to May. I came out to her,” Peter pipes up.

Tony beams and pats Peter on the shoulder. “Hey, congratulations!” he says. Peter smiles back at him, feeling more relaxed. He grabs himself a piece of pizza while the group choruses their own congratulations.

“Where is pretty boy?” Nat asks, stealing the slice from Clint’s hand and taking a bite, much to his visible annoyance.

“His frat is doing initiations or something, I don’t even know.” Peter rolls his eyes, but his smile is still in place. “Seems a bit late in the semester in my opinion, but whatever.”

Bruce finally gets his hands on the blunt and takes his time with it before passing it on to Vis. Wanda steals it and takes a smaller hit before giving it to back Vis, blowing the smoke out and humming. “I had a great time, I got to see my brother. We don’t do thanksgiving, though, so no dinner. I think Vis is still winning. Sorry, Steve.”

Vis hands Peter the blunt and grins, kissing her hair softly. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he whispers into her hair.

Peter stares at the blunt for a second, contemplating. “What about you, Bucky? Got any war stories?”

“Nah. Well-” he grins, turning to Sam. “I did have my life threatened. Thrice.”

Sam scoffs, finishing his bite of pizza and rolling his eyes. “Sure, but they bought you ice cream right after, so I don’t think you qualify for worst break.”

Bucky chuckles softly and leans in to connect their lips chastly, bumping their shoulders. “What about you, nothing to complain about?”

Sam smirks, eyes alight with joy. “Nope,” he says, popping the P. “Don’t get an ego about it, though.”

Steve shifts away from Bucky just a bit, playing with a loose thread coming out of his sweater. He looks so sad and pathetic, Peter thinks.

Peter puts the blunt between his lips, gaining a gasp from a few people and making Steve look up to see what caused it. His eyes go wide, and Peter hopes he sees this as the peace offering it is. He takes a deep breath and immediately starts hacking up a lung, his face going bright red.

“Amateur,” Bruce teases, grinning at Peter. “You’re fine, breathe through it.”

Tony takes the blunt from Peter and passes it to Rhodey, looking at him with concern and patting Peter’s back. “Jesus, Pete, right in the deep end, huh? You ever heard of baby steps?”

Peter flips him off, but leans into his touch so he knows he isn’t really mad. “My lungs are on fire,” Peter croaks.

Natasha laughs, shaking her head fondly. “Virgin lungs,” she tsks.

Peter takes a deep breath, coughing once more and clearing his throat. It still feels like it’s in his lungs, and he wants to get it out so bad. “Jesus. I don’t think I ever need to do that again.”

The rest of them start laughing, even Tony who still looks a little worried.

“What about you two?” Rhodey asks, passing the blunt back to Bucky. “You haven’t told your horror stories yet, are you really gonna let Vis win?”

“Well Tony hasn’t gone yet, he just mentioned the fight,” Clint says. “And he’s our only hope, because me and Nat had a great time. I love Yelana, she’s such a little-”

“Angel,” Nat finishes, stealing the slice from his hand again. “But we did have a good time, so you better have had a terrible time, Tones.”

“Thanks,” Tony says drily, rolling his eyes. “I mean other than existing under the suffocation of daddy dearest, not really. I’d rather they had forgotten about me and fly to Italy or some shit, does that mean I win?”

Vis hums. “I dunno, I would have rather spent the holidays with my family, even if they don’t particularly like me.”

“Tony wins,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “I’ve met his parents. He wins.”

Peter frowns, looking at Tony with sad eyes. Tony squirms and stands up suddenly, clearing his throat. “Where’s your bathroom, Barnes?”

“Down the hall,” Bucky says, pointing over his shoulder.

Tony nods his thanks and heads that way, and somehow the blunt is back in Peter’s hand. “How’s it my turn again already?”

“You spacing out there, Petey?” Wanda teases, grinning at him.

Peter sticks his tongue out at her. “I’ve been high before. Once. It sucked.”

“Is it sucking this time?” Steve asks, smiling softly.

Peter smiles back, and is happy that their little fight can just be behind them now. “Not yet, anyway. What do I do with this?”

Rhodey takes it from him. “Tony hasn’t had a hit yet, but normally you’d just put it out and leave it somewhere.”

“Well,” Tony says, sitting back down and sniffing. He grabs the blunt, holding it between his fingers. “Thor, you made the bet. Do you owe me ten dollars?”

Thor smirks, one arm hanging over Bruce’s shoulder. He shows off his other hand, covered in a bandage. “I’ll give you each one guess as to what happened.”

“You burned yourself taking out the turkey!” Nat pipes up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Nope,” Thor smirks. “We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”

“You burned yourself cooking something else?” Clint asks.

“Nope!”

“You sprained your wrist jacking off,” Tony guesses, putting out the blunt. When did he take a hit? Peter doesn’t remember.

“Stark,” Thor says, scandalized.

“You tripped down the stairs,” Bruce guesses.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You scraped it climbing a tree,” Rhodey says unenthusiastically.

“Not even close.”

“You slammed it in a car door,” Sam offers.

“You slammed it in a regular door,” Bucky counters without waiting his turn.

“No and no.”

“You were the person Tony got that black eye from?” Steve offers, grinning.

“Rude,” Tony mumbles, rubbing his nose and grabbing a beer.

“No,” Thor laughs. “Closer, though.”

“You got in a fight with your brother,” Vis guesses.

“Closer,” Thor says, leaning foreword.

“Loki stabbed you because you annoyed him,” Wanda guesses, shrugging her shoulders.

“Closest!” Thor says, pointing at her. “I got stabbed by my secret sister I never knew about, because she killed a family while drunk driving and it broke up my father and her mother’s marriage.”

The room goes dead silent, and then Peter starts to giggle inappropriately. His giggles bring out everyone else’s slow laughter, until even Thor is holding his belly as he laughs about it. “Holy shit, Thor,” Peter says thorugh his giggles. “You win.”

“A secret sister?” Wanda asks, shaking her head. “Damn.”

“Wait, how old is your dad?” Nat asks, leaning her head on Clint’s shoulder and squinting at Thor. “If your dad started a whole new family after she was old enough to drive drunk?”

“Ancient,” Thor says, grinning. “He’s a lot older than my mom, like 12 years or something, and she was 35 when I was born. Loki was a miracle baby, she was 43.”

“Can we play messiest family?” Clint asks, eyes sharp with mischief. “I think this could be fun.”

“Thor’s already won, though,” Bucky challenges. “What’s messier than a secret sister from your father’s secret first marriage?”

“Your parents were just teenagers, that’s a lot less messy. Messy, but less messy,” Natasha says, grinning at him. Bruce is staring at them, a sad look in his eyes.

“My parents,” Peter starts, and then laughs as he realizes what he was about to say. Changes his mind, and instead says, “Are dead.”

Wanda starts to giggle hysterically, making Peter laugh as well. “Peter,” Wanda says, still giggling. “Most people don’t get that joke.”

“What joke?!” Bruce asks incredulously. But he’s looking at Peter now, so it worked out. “He just said a sad fact.”

Peter and Wanda both burst out laughing again, and the rest of the group slowly starts joining in, if only to diffuse the awkwardness.

“You guys are fucking weird,” Steve says, shaking his head fondly.

“Shit,” Tony whispers, making Peter turn to look at him. He quickly grabs a napkin and puts it to his nose.

“Nose bleed?” Rhodey asks, and he has an expression on his face that Peter can’t really read.

“It’s fine,” Tony mumbles, tilting his head back.

“I had a nose bleed just the other day,” Thor says, looking at his beer in thought. “My mother said it was something to do with dry weather, but I thought that was one of those things moms make up.”

Clint snorts, pulling Nat more firmly into his lap. “Like an old wise tale?”

Sam barks a laugh. “Uh uh. What did you say?”

Clint frowns, narrowing his eyes. “What? An old wise tale.”

Sam snickers, and Bucky shakes his head fondly. “Wives’, Clint. An old wives’ tale.”

Clint’s jaw drops. “Shut up!” He says. “No, that doesn’t make any sense! It’s wise, as in wisdom.”

“No,” Steve says, a grin on his face. “No, an old wives’ tale means gossip, urban legend, superstitious. That type of thing.”

“‘S sexist,” Wanda mumbles.

“Nuh uh, I don’t believe you,” Clint says, taking his phone out and jostling Nat. He looks it up, and gasps loudly. “No fucking way.”

Everyone dissolves into a fit of giggles, and Peter feels mostly floaty, but a small part of him is too busy thinking about how this is the second nose bleed Tony has had in a week, that Peter knows of. He looks to Rhodey, who’s also looking suspiciously at Tony. When Rhodey looks up and sees Peter staring, he looks away and starts drinking more beer.

Tony stands up, wiping his nose and sniffing once to test if it’s really over. “I’m gonna throw this away and wash my hands, anyone need anything while I’m up?”

Giggly ‘no’s are all he gets in response, so he leaves. Peter watches him go, forgetting why he was concerned but still feeling concerned.

Peter sighs happily, putting his drink on the table before climbing onto his boyfriend. “I missed you,” he mumbles softly.

Wade laughs, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist. “You saw me like just a few hours ago,” he says playfully.

“Yeah, but I still missed you,” he pouts, kissing at Wade’s neck.

“Did you get high?” Wade asks, amusement in his voice.

“Maybe,” Peter says, kissing up Wade’s neck and nibbling at his earlobe. “I had a little hit.”

Wade chuckles softly, moving one hand to rub up and down Peter’s back. “You said you don’t really do that,” Wade half asks.

“Not really,” Peter agrees easily. “Listen, I seem to remember you promising to turn my legs into jelly.” He licks at the shell of Wade’s ear, earning a shiver.

“Why did you decide to smoke?” Wade asks instead of responding, nuzzling Peter’s hair.

Peter pouts, kissing back down Wade’s neck. “We were just having fun. Everyone had dramatic ass stories from break and I just wanted to chill.”

“Yeah?” Wade asks, moving his free hand to rest on Peter’s hip. “What happened?”

Peter huffs in annoyance, starting to rock his hips into Wade’s. “Well, Thor got stabbed.”

Wade gasps, stilling Peter’s hips. “What?!”

“Yeah, he discovered he has a secret sister who killed a whole family or something and she stabbed his hand for some reason. He’s fine.” Peter whimpers softly, still trying to move his hips. “Wade, please!”

Wade laughs softly, kissing Peter’s hair. “That’s crazy, Pete. What else happened?”

Peter grunts, resting his head against Wade’s shoulder. “Well Bruce was all sad because Natasha and Clint are back together, and they went to her family’s house over break.”

“Why would that make Bruce sad?” Wade prompts.

Peter pulls back, scrunching his nose to showcase his displeasure. Wade only grins fondly, pushing some hair behind Peter’s ear. “Because he’s in love with Nat. They always fuck when she and Clint are off again, but it’s a secret so really I shouldn’t tell you.”

Wade’s eyes widen. “Damn.”

“Yeah, but that’s nothing,” Peter says, a smile starting to grow on his face. He doesn’t usually gossip, but it’s fun, apparently. “Steve’s in love with Bucky, but Bucky started to date Sam. And Sam took Bucky home over the break to meet his family!”

Wade blinks rapidly, shifting under Peter. “Steve is the one who slept with your best friend, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but we made up. Me and Steve, and me and Tony. Tony apologized during class so we’re good now. But I think he might be getting sick or something, because he got a nose bleed.”

“A nose bleed?” Wade asks, grabbing Peter’s water and handing it to him. He doesn’t comment on the incoherency of that last story.

Peter hums his thanks and takes a sip, and then nods. “Yeah, d’ya think that’s something to worry about? I don’t think I’ve ever had a nose bleed.”

“I get them sometimes, if the weather is bad,” he says, shrugging. “Your friends are…a bunch, aren’t they?”

Peter nods proudly, starting to giggle. He drinks more water and then hands it back to Wade. “It’s never boring, that’s for sure.”

Wade hums, moving his hands up Peter’s sides. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah!” Peter says, smiling happily. He leans in and hovers his lips just above Wade’s. “You should fuck me.”

Wade laughs breathily, connecting their lips softly before pulling back just a bit. “You’re high,” he mumbles. He puts Peter’s water back down.

“Yeah, and?” Peter asks, connecting their lips again. Wade allows it for a little bit, before pulling back again. Peter whines in annoyance. “Waaaade. At least lemme suck your dick.”

He earns a gasp out of his boyfriend, but only that. “I’ll fuck you extra tomorrow,” Wade bargains, nosing under Peter’s jaw and kissing there softly.

Peter gasps and tilts his head back, cupping the back of Wade’s neck to keep him there. “What does that even mean?” he asks breathlessly, biting his lip.

Wade chuckles and kisses his neck more, ignoring the question. He turns the lamp off and moves the both of them on their sides, kissing Peter’s neck the whole time.

“Feels good,” Peter gasps, holding onto Wade.

“Yeah?” Wade whispers, moving his lips up to Peter’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Peter says, his eyes drooping as he starts to feel sleepier. “Don’t stop,” he mumbles.

“Won’t,” Wade says, his lips moving along his jaw. It feels good, and Peter is so happy and floaty, and he doesn’t even notice the way he slowly drifts off to sleep.

Tony scratches at his face, eyes twitching almost violently. He did way too much, he used twice as mich as he usually does. But he woke up with a headache and a crippling urge to use, and it’s Saturday so he has no where to be and no plans to keep, so he thought it was a good idea at the time.

Tony feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He’s fucking stupid. He shouldn’t have done this. There’s so many things he shouldn’t have done. He shouldn’t have slept with Steve. He shouldn’t have hurt Peter with his words. He shouldn’t have ignored Peter. He shouldn’t have let Peter date Wade, he should have told Peter how he felt. And now he’s gone and fallen in love with Wade, they love each other, and Tony is stupid.

He’s fucked up, he’s fucked everything up. He’s done irreparable damage to all of his relationships, all of his friends hate him, he’s going to die alone.

He’s going to die, right now. His heart is going to give out, and he’s going to die in his apartment, all alone. How long will it take for anyone to even notice he’s dead? Is there anyone left who would care? Has he driven everyone who cares about him away?

He’s dying. He’s actively dying. He’s dying, and-

“Tony!” Rhodey yells, and when and how did he even get here? Rhodey looks angry-no. No, he looks scared. “Tony, please! Please, just breathe. You can’t hold your breath, man, you have to breathe.”

Tony gasps in a desperate breath, and immediately starts hyperventilating. He feels tears streaming down his face, and he can’t tell if it’s snot or blood that’s pouring out of his nose but he can’t breathe either way. “R-R…R-”

“Breathe,” Rhodey says, grabbing Tony’s hand and holding it to his chest. “Breathe, Tony. Like me. In…Out. Come on, Tones, you can do it. It’s a panic attack, you’ve had one before. It’s just a panic attack. Breathe with me. In…”

Tony is shaking. He’s shaking, and he doesn’t think that he can actually breathe like Rhodey wants him to. But he’s here, at least. He looks like he would care if Tony died right now. So he isn’t completely alone, at least.

“You’re doing great, Tones. You’re breathing, see? You’re breathing. Keep doing it. In…out…With me, just like that. Good job. Keep breathing,” Rhodey says, using his free hand to cup the back of Tony’s neck.

Tony sobs brokenly, his hands shakily coming up to hold onto Rhodey’s shirt. “Rhodey,” he croaks. He’s still shaking, still can’t breathe right.

“I’m here,” Rhodey says, squeezing the back of Tony’s neck in a way that sends calm through him. “I’m right here. Keep breathing.”

Tony takes in the deepest breath yet, letting it out shakily, and then does it again. He does it five more times before Rhodey finally gives him a shaky smile, nodding once. “Rhodey…”

“We’re talking about it,” Rhodey says, an edge to his voice. “But we’re getting you cleaned up first, and you’re going to drink some water, and we’re waiting until you’re breathing evens out.”

Tony nods slowly, unable to keep eye contact. He lets Rhodey clean his face up with some tissues first and then washes his face with water, careful not to let it splash all over his front. Then Rhodey hands him a water bottle and Tony takes slow sips from it until it’s half gone.

“Better?” Rhodey asks, once they’re sitting on one of Tony’s couches.

Tony nods, running his thumb along the lid of the bottle. “I’m sorry, Rhodey,” he whispers softly, looking up with tears in his eyes. He doesn’t want to let them fall anymore, though. “I’m sorry. Not just for-for this. For today.”

Rhodey lets out a shaky breath, and puts a hand on Tony’s knee. “You’re a fucking asshole, Tony,” he starts, shaking his head. “But you’re my asshole. You’ve been my best friend forever, and short of trying to kill me personally, there’s nothing you could do to change that, okay? I’ll always be here. I’ll always forgive you.”

Tony feels one tear push over the edge, and the mix of guilt and pure, unadulterated love courses through him. No one has ever loved him like this, other than Rhodey. Not his parents; that’s a fucking joke. He would say Ana and Jarvis, but they were paid to be there, and they wouldn’t have been if they weren’t getting paid. Rhodey is the only one who loves him this way, unconditionally and without incentive. “Rhodey-” he starts, chokes.

Rhodey smiles and shakes his head, squeezing Tony’s knee. “I know. And the way you feel right now, the words you can’t say out loud? That’s why. That’s why I stay. I know, Tony.”

Tony puts his own hand over Rhodey’s, holding it shakily. He wants to be able to say it anyway, but he doesn’t have words to express the way he feels. Maybe one day he will. For now, he’s just going to trust that Rhodey is telling the truth and he knows what Tony feels. “I don’t deserve you,” he says instead.

Rhodey sighs dramatically, tilting his chin up-but his smile is still there. “I know,” he says. At Tony’s laugh, he turns back to Tony and nods. “Okay. Now we talk about it.”

“I…how long were you there, before I noticed you?” Tony asks.

“A few minutes. Enough to hear something about Peter, fucking everything up, and how you’re going to die,” Rhodey supplies.

Tony winces and then sighs, looking to his lap. “I slept with Steve,” he starts, and can’t fight his smile when Rhodey chokes. “I know, bad decision. Probably gonna do it again.”

“Do-do not-Tony!” Rhodey chokes, half incredulous and half highly amused. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Steve Rogers?! Perhaps the only living person left on this entire planet more emotionally constipated than you?”

Tony barks a laugh, looking up at Rhodey with a shaky smile. His high is already starting to wear off, and he hates it. “I dunno, honeybear, I think Bruce might be up there. And Clint.”

“Nuh uh, they’re stupid,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “They know how they feel, and they can talk about it. They just keep staying in the situation anyway. You can’t even talk about your feelings, or even label them most of the time.”

“Shut up,” Tony grumbles, wiping his cheek from the wetness. “Whatever. It was a mistake, I shouldn’t have done it. He came to my apartment all upset because he saw Barnes kissing Wil-Sam, and I was upset because Peter is always kissing Wade, and…I dunno.”

Rhodey sighs, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “Jesus Christ, Tones.”

Tony shrugs, sniffling and rubbing under his nose. “And then he went and blabbed about it to Peter, of all fucking people-” Rhodey whips his head around to look at Tony, eyes wide. “Yeah, I know. What the fuck was he thinking? Whatever, doesn’t matter. He told Peter, and so Peter came to my apartment like a week later or something, right before we all left for break. And he started saying all this stuff about how I hate him, and he just wants me to tell him what he did wrong so he could apologize, and I…I…”

Rhodey narrows his eyes. “What did you say?”

Tony pulls at his fingers nervously. “Okay, I admit to being the most emotionally constipated person on earth.”

“What did you do, Tones?” Rhodey asks, sounding tired and wary.

Tony scratches the back of his neck. “Well, what I meant to say was that I’m no good for him, that my life is hell and he shouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. That I want to love him and be in a relationship with him, that I’m not only interested in fucking him.”

“But you didn’t say that,” Rhodey guesses.

“No. I…” Tony groans and puts his head in his hands. “It’s so much worse now that I’ve had time to think about it!”

“Tony…”

“I said I’m not allowed to date him because I’m expected to marry a rich heiress and have a bunch of pretty babies to carry on my family name,” Tony says quickly, letting out a shuddery breath at the end.

“Tony,” Rhodey says, scandalized.

“He said, ‘What a relief to find out that you don’t hate me, you just think I’m a worthless nobody!’” Tony leans back on the couch, rubbing a hand down his face. “And I didn’t know how to tell him that he’s the…that he…fuck,” Tony shakes his head, still not able to find the right words. “It’s the wrong way ‘round. I’m the worthless one, he’s the one that’s too good. Way too fucking good for me.”

“Tony,” Rhodey starts, changes his mind. He rubs a hand down his own face, before shaking his head. “I’m not going to sugar coat it, Tones. You fucked that one up. You’re lucky he forgave you.”

“I know,” Tony mumbles, rubbing under his nose before pulling his knees to his chest.

They let the silence sit for a while, but then Rhodey sighs. “Are we going to talk about your newest problem?”

Tony winces, resting his chin on his knees. “Dad hit me,” he says softly, and hears Rhodey shift to face him. “Told me I that if I was going to disappoint him by doing drugs, I could at least choose one that makes me productive so I’ll be a little less worthless for an hour at a time.”

Rhodey’s hand clenches into a fist on his thigh, and his jaw works. “If I could get away with it-”

“He’s right, though,” Tony says, digging his fingers into his legs to help him not cry. “It makes me a lot more productive. More sociable. I’ve managed to not massively piss anyone off for a whole week, that’s a new record.” His voice fails him at the end, turning the joke more sad than he wanted it to be. “All my assignments are done and turned in, I’m sure my professors suspect something,” that jokes lands better, pulling a pity laughs from Rhodey. “I feel better, when I’m on it. Usually. Happier.”

“It’s not really happiness,” Rhodey argues softly. He puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “And it’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Tony mumbles sadly. “But I don’t want to stop yet. I need…I need to know I won’t drown, when I stop. I need to know I’ll be okay after. I can’t…I don’t want to feel that low again, when I was on break. Right after he hit me, and I thought Peter hated me and you hated me and everyone else was going to hate me soon.” He looks to Rhodey, his heart pounding for a new reason. “I don’t wanna feel that way again. I felt like…like there wasn’t a reason to keep going.”

Rhodey’s hand tightens on Tony’s shoulder, and his breathing starts to quicken. “Tony-”

“I’m not-” Tony shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “I’m not going to- do that. I just…I don’t want to feel like it, even if I won’t do anything about it.”

“You need to talk to someone,” Rhodey whispers softly.

Tony smiles sadly, pushing his shoulder more into Rhodey’s hand. “That’s what you’re for, sourpatch. Free therapy.”

“Tony,” Rhodey warns, a lecture on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m Howard Stark’s kid, I don’t get to go to therapy. I buck up and bury my feelings. It’s the Stark way,” he says sadly, shrugging. “I’ll figure it out, eventually. I’ll be fine.”

Rhodey rubs at his face, shaking his head. Then he sighs, squeezing Tony’s shoulder once more. “Okay. Okay, Tones. But you have to call me if you’re feeling like this again, okay? I don’t care what time it is, and I don’t care how sure you are that you aren’t going to do anything. You call me.”

Tony feels that surge of warmth again, and nods his agreement. “Promise.”

Rhodey lets him go, leaning back in the chair and staring into the distance. After what feels like the most comfortable silence they’ve shared in a long time, and scoffs “Steve Rogers?”

“Shut up,” Tony laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s stupid and annoying, but he’s also hot as fuck.”

Rhodey shoots him an unimpressed look. “You fuck hot people all the time, you couldn’t find a different one?”

Tony sighs and leans back, letting his head fall to the back of the couch. “I’m gonna do it again, too. I just know it.”

Rhodey scoffs again, scratching at his cheek. “You are hands down, by far, the most self destructive person I’ve ever met.”

Tony smiles sadly, but then it disappears and he turns to Rhodey with genuine anxiety. Enough to make Rhodey tense. “But you’ll always be here to pick up the pieces,” he whispers, somehow able to keep it from sounding like a question.

Rhodey sighs, but he nods. “Always, Tones.”

#starker #my writing #fanfic #my college au #spideypool #tw: blood #tw: violence mention #tw: drug use #tw: panic attack #tw: alcohol #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: unhealthy coping mechanisms

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