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tarithenurse · 5 years

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Orphan - 3

Starring: Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: ENDGAME SPOILERS! Angst (surprise!), confrontations, questions that needs answering, sadness, loss, confusion, feeling homeless/rootless, lack of will, loads of other sad feelings. Sorry. A/N: So, yes, this is starting to move along and I’m very touched by the responses I’ve gotten on just the 2 first chapters. As always, if you want a tag: let me know. Feel free to reblog or comment as I adore any sort of feedback. Who knows...one day I might even get better thanks to it? ;)

3. Family or not

Of course it’s not a big happy family reunion (whatever’s left of it). It’s an awkward walk through the autumn forest, stuck between a dude known for his robot suit and a chick who is part robot. Cyborg. At least Rhodes, because you’ve recognized him even with the lack of formal introductions, seems to be a bit sorry about the way things are going, but you probably bear some of the guilt for that as well.

No one says a lot after an initial phone call has been made, so it’s just the wet crunch of leaves muffling the footsteps as you trudge around the lake to a place probably used for canoeing during the summer. Now it’s place for a series of black, imposing cars with equally stern people whom you’ve seen on youtube, news coverage, and the few printed papers still in the making nowadays, and where Rhodes hadn’t seemed surprised by your existence…well…it’s a very different matter for the rest and your only comfort is that not all of the funeral guests facing you.

I should’ve stayed in bed today. The fight-or-flight response is long gone, replaced by a leaden sludge internally seeping from the guts to the feet. Why did I come? Spying on the funeral of a dad you’d only just found out that you had had wasn’t going to bring him or anyone else back, and right now? Right now you wanted your mom, not for the first time and probably not for the last time since she got killed years ago. Why did you never tell me, mommy? A new wave of guilt wrecks you, tearing at your heart for blaming the only family you’ve ever known, and you feel the hot swell of tears threaten to fill you eyes and drip from your nose.

I won’t let them have that too. No one moves a muscle as you clench your fists, your shoulders rising and falling as you combat yourself through the breathing. And no one interrupts Rhodes as he briefly explains about a trivial escapade decades ago that introduced the great Tony Stark to the concept of consequences. Consequence. Me. Just an accident that could be shoved into the dark recesses of a closet. No wonder your mom hadn’t told you who your father was when you were a kid, begging to have a full set of parents like your classmates.

But something must have changed with the Snappening, something else than just guilt had reared its head and made Stark leave you the answers to all the questions you’d ever had…even if he didn’t know id you’d be back.

“Confusion,” a dreamy voice lisps to your right, “sadness and…frustration…there’s so much hurt.”

You don’t look at her nor the person saying some nonsense along the lines of “I am groot”, whatever that’s supposed to mean.

“Oh…sorry.”

“Bad time or not, what do we do with her?” Nebula sneers more to herself than the rest. “Apparently, we’re not supposed to kill her.”

Even with the decent boots you’d scrounged, your toes are getting cold while you let them talk, make up their minds about your future both because you know these people will only leave you very little to say but mainly because you have no freaking idea what you want. The plan had only reached as far as to have a look at the funeral to see what you might have been missing out on. After that? Well, plan or not, now things have been set in motion that you can’t undo.

“Alright, [Y/N],” Rhodes finally turns to you with a frown, “let’s get you somewhere warm, waddaya say?”

You just nod and crawl onto the backseat of the black sedan he points at where you’re joined by the two men with the broadest shoulders, one of which is rock solid. *Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield* Sure they were close then and apparently now because the men don’t leave a lot of room for you and you don’t dare shift for a more comfortable position, choosing instead to sit with everything possible tugged in tightly.

It’s unbearably silent after the last car door slams and the cortege of black vehicles move onto the road leading around the lake. Why did I come? I’m an idjit. The two relics makes it unbearably warm to sit in the car…or perhaps it’s the nerves. But you’ll be damned if you speak up now even if it’s to ask for a window to be opened. No one question Rhodes as he navigates them further from the Stark Residence, following a short stretch of highway before heading to what must be the nearest motel lying snuggly by the river.

“I’ll uhh…get a room for ya, wait here,” War Machine (minus armour) announces and leaves two super soldiers, one orphan, and a blue cyborg behind without waiting for an answer.

This isn’t for me, right? “He…doesn’t have to. I’m sure I can get my bed back at the hostel.”

There’s a very obvious snort of disbelief from the front, but at least the Captain is kind enough to try to turn to face you and explain: “Don’t take this the wrong way, miss, but this is for our sake. Gives us a chance to talk with you…know where you are.”

“So I’m not s’posed to leave…”

“No.”

“Nebula!” Rogers chastises to no other effect than a scoff and shrug.

Why not admit it too, Capcicle? “Not a prisoner, just…grounded? Does that make you my daddy?”

The blush spreading rapidly across the blond man’s face is gloriously deepened by Barnes’ rolling laughter which continues as the car doors are opened from the outside by the only guy who knew about your existence. Behind him is a tiny crowd including a guy with a mohawk, a green woman, and…the fuck? Are those antennae?!

… Clint …

Good, old Tony Always-a-Surprise Stark. Not only did the guy have to go off and be the biggest hero of them all, he’s made sure to make a backup and kept her tugged away safe and far away from the messy (yet glamorous) life he’d lived. Glancing over at the chick, Clint can’t help but see parts of both the father’s and even the little sister’s features. The eyes. Fuck, it hurts more than he’d imagined.

Wonder what Nata– But no, Natasha won’t have any thoughts on what to do. There’s no calm logic from the world’s best redhead to counter the scared and cowed emotions streaming from [Y/N], as she’s called, who’s waiting silently for a verdict.

She’d come prepared, Tony’s daughter. All the documents and shit that Stark had left after the Snappening are spread out on the bed as proof of her existence just in case no one would believe her or Rhodes.

“I am Grooot?”

“What do you want?” the raccoon translates easily. “Why show up today? What’s the point?”

Nimble hands wring a snippet of a jacket that seems to be second-hand. “I dunno…guess it was sorta to…” She sighs, and it almost makes sense to Clint what this is about. “I only remember seeing him once and I didn’t know then. Now I’ve got a-a half-sister? It doesn’t feel real!”

“So you went, made sure they’re there…then what?” The odd creature is feisty for its size, a sort of feral smugness playing on the little face. “Want money?”

“No, that’s not –“

“All his cool gear?”

“Why would I –“

“Ah! Marry the grieving widow to –“

A mix of shouts and protests shut the furry interrogator up even if it’s probably only going to be for a while – it doesn’t take a lot of time together with Rocket to figure that out. Or why.

“Listen, I don’t have a fucking plan. Okay? I appear on some poor guys lap in the middle of a lecture only to find out it’s been more than five years! I got no home, no one to go to, no job. Maybe, some old pictures and books have survived, but that’s it. Stark might’ve been my father, but he’s never been my dad and I don’t belong with his family!” There’s a subtle movement from the Quill-guy, but no words break the roaring silence that follows [Y/N]’s outburst.

She needs a home.

“You’re not going back to the hostel.” Clint hears himself declare, already pulling the phone out of the pocket. “You’re not gonna be on your own.”

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