Clark: why are you like this

Bruce, three seconds away from dropping a glass of champagne on the floor, dramatically slipping in the pieces, and falling into the lap of the senator they’re trying to get information out of in a bizarre, sleep-deprived, but likely wildly successful seduction attempt: can you just let me have this please

i mean. sure. bruce could be an absurdly competent actor who is capable of going about his everyday life flawlessly portraying an entirely fictional personality without ever breaking character...

but personally, i like to think that he is actually just extremely good at compartmentalizing and exaggerating different facets of his real personality, and that both "brucie" and "batman" are rooted in truth to some degree

@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie. 

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?” 

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?” 

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information. 

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”

Honestly would not put it past Bruce to have invented some kind of worldwide mass hypnosis-inator that makes it impossible for anyone to connect the dots of the League’s secret identities without being told. And then he just. Doesn’t tell anyone about it. For years.

Like everyone in the League with a secret identity is just going about their daily lives, taking constant precautions to try and conceal their superpowers, and it’s just completely unnecessary because Bruce has this little machine in his basement constantly covering their asses. And nobody knows this.

Until one day Clark is hanging out in the Batcave and he spots it and asks Bruce about it, and eventually gets Bruce to explain what it is. And then Clark is just like:… ok. WHAT???

Bruce: hmm.

Clark: DON’T HMM me asshole; I repeat, WHAT?????

Bruce: Clark. Your disguise is a pair of glasses. This was a necessary precaution.

Clark: Hey! There is more to it than that, I-

Bruce: A pair. Of glasses.

Clark: It’s Not. Just. A pair. Of glasses!!! And it’s been working just fine so far!!

Bruce: *eyeing the invention* Yes. I wonder why that is.

Clark: isidjwjqk well why haven’t you told anyone about this??? Don’t you think it would have been useful information for the League to have??!

Bruce: Clark. Again. Your current disguise is a pair. of. glasses. Hal regularly uses the Lantern ring to commute to work if he’s running late. And Oliver wears a domino mask every night, but at seemingly no point has it occurred to him that maybe covering up the most distinctive facial hair in the whole country could be more useful. You are all terrible at this. This tech is intended as a backup measure; I wasn’t about to tell the League and allow the knowledge to make you even sloppier. Even my inventions have limits.

Clark: Quick question, how thick are the walls in this cave? Trying to figure out how much force I’d need to use to Throw You Through One

Bruce: You’re welcome, by the way.

Clark: … *valiantly represses the by now familiar urge to strangle Bruce*

Clark: …ok, but - wait. Wait. If you knew you had this, and that no one was going to figure out your secret identity…what’s with the whole Brucie act???

Bruce…

Clark: Bruce?!! You’ve been acting like a complete idiot?? In front of the whole world??? For decades???? And you DIDN’T HAVE TO???

Bruce:…

Clark: …WHY?!?!! Why would you do that????

Bruce:…

Bruce:…

Bruce:…

Bruce: Stress relief

Could I maybe request more sibling Jasonette with Mari just having a rough day with Jason comforting her? I love your writing!

I love Jasonette so much and I’m sorry it took so long to respond! I hope you like it :)

The Breakdown

Marinette was having a crappy day. Wait, not just a day, a crappy week, no month, or was it a year? She had honestly lost track of when she had her last good day.

Everyone told her she couldn’t do better than interning under Audrey Bourgeois fresh out of lycee and they were probably right, but she couldn’t imagine herself in a worse situation at the moment. Project after project piled up and everywhere she looked, Audrey was there criticizing her every move, forcing her to re-do finished designs before she could even start overdue commissions.

As she turned the key, pushing the door open to her apartment, Marinette could almost cry from the amount of relief flowing over her. Tomorrow would be her one and only day off for the next month and she didn’t even know what to do with it.

Just as she sank into her couch, her phone began to buzz beside her. With a slight groan, she pulled herself up searching for the source of the vibrations. In all honesty, she was tempted to ignore it for fear that it was Audrey calling her in on her day off yet again, but the punishment for sending Audrey to voicemail was much worse than working.

“Hello, This is Marinette.”

“Yo Princess! I know you have a day off tomorrow! Do you wanna go patrolling with me?”

Marinette opened her mouth to respond, but something caused her to stop. A single tear fell down her face, traveling until it hit her lip, triggering the fall of another.  Pretty soon, soft sniffles took over as she cupped her phone to her face, trying to pull herself together.

“Hey, Mari, are you crying? What’s wrong?”

She muffled out a small nothing, but it was less than convincing.

“That’s it, Batman can find someone else to patrol tonight. I’ll be over in five, leave your door unlocked unless you want to have to replace a window again.”

The line went dead as Marinette stood to unlock her front door, the tears still fresh on her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to break down at that very moment, but the sound of Jason’s voice snapped her will. She had barely sat back down when her door flew open, a frantic Jason almost falling through.

“Who do I need to kill? Is it that Agreste kid again? I’ll finish him this time/”

Marinette shook her head as shaky laughter escaped her lips.

“I don’t really know what happened. It’s just been a long couple of months and Audrey has been insufferable and she wants so much more than one person could possibly manage. I’ve pulled too many all-day shifts to even count on my hands. She’s taking everything I love about fashion and squashing it under her five-inch heel.”

She felt the tears pooling in her eyes once more, but she shook her head, refusing to cry again tonight. Feeling the couch shift beside her, she peeked up at Jason who simply clucked his tongue before patting her head.

“There there Princess. I believe you are simply having a stress-induced meltdown. Timmy boy has them all the time.”

Marinette felt the denial on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t stressed or in the middle of a meltdown, she just felt mentally and physically drained from the tyranny of Audrey Bourgeois, that wasn’t stress, right? Just distaste for her boss, everyone felt that from time to time.

“You know it’s not a bad thing right? You need to let it out sometimes or that stress becomes all-consuming. You don’t wanna end up like Brucie hm?”

He gently nudged her side, his playful smile drawing out yet another tear. Leaning into his outstretched arms, Marinette let her tears fall, not even bothering to hold them back. It felt so-

“So much better am I right?”

Her breathy chuckle confirmed his comment as he rubbed her back in small circles, doing his best to help her relieve as much stress as possible. They stayed in that position for longer than he intended, but it didn’t matter, as long as she felt better.  

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were red and puffy, the little bit of mascara she had put on earlier streaked down her cheeks. Jasin could help the explosion of laughter that came next.

“Oh my God, you look like a raccoon! You could sneak into Gotham’s Rogue area and I’m sure no one could even tell the difference. Forget Ladybug, you can be Raccoon-Girl, newest villain of Gotham oof-”

Jason doubled over as Marinette tried to choke back her laughter at the sight of him holding his stomach.

“Raccoon-Girl? That’s all you could come up with?”

“I’m sure Damian would like, let me call him.”

“No!” Jason let out another whine as she smacked his stomach again, ripping the phone from his hand.

“You’re totally blushing!”

“Am not!”

“Whatever princess, you’re so crushing on Damian. I knew it, I’m the best matchmaker there is.” Jason crossed his arms over his chest, his usual smug expression taunting her.

“Weren’t you coming over here to make me feel better? How is making fun of me accomplishing any of that?”

“You’re smiling and blushing.” Jason pinched her still red cheek earning a protest from the girl. “I’d say the mission is accomplished. But just in case it needs the icing on top.”

Marinette gasped as he pulled out a small movie from his jacket, waving it in front of her face as her eyes widened.

“Is that-” Jason nodded, not even bothering letting her ask the rest of her question.

“Bruce’s original copy of The Devil Wears Prada, I figured it was fitting for this situation.”

As he slipped the disk in, Marinette settled into her couch a thousand times lighter than when she entered a couple hours ago. Sure, she still had a terrible internship under what could arguably be the devil herself, but if it meant living close to her rock, then it was worth it.

After all, nothing was better than what she had in Gotham City.

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Could you please do something with Booster Gold? You're the only author I know who writes about him, and it's amazing!

gotcha!

You’re sitting a beach, and you don’t quite care enough to try and remember how you got here. MJ is off to your left, slathering more sunscreen on his legs. You yourself are situated under an umbrella, all spread out on one of the nicest beach chairs you’ve ever sat on. The waves lap against the shore, the brightest blue you’ve ever seen.

"I don’t know how it happens, but I always get a sunburn on my knees. Why is that even possible? I came prepared this time, though. I grabbed SPF 100. I know, a little over the top, but I’m done not being able to walk or sit after every beach trip. Y’know, once in a League meeting t-” 

You loll your head in his direction. “Shh.”

“But-”

“Shh.”

“What if-”

“Michael Jon Carter. We have a whole week to talk about your asinine work shit. I have limited time on this beach right now, and I’m hitting that sweet spot where I’m just warm enough to fall asleep. So why don’t you read that book you brought along. Your kindle is in my bag somewhere.”

He pouts, but it’s moot, as your hat is already over your face. He decides to go exploring instead, see what’s all in the house you’re staying in. He wonders what else your host has stashed away.

                                                            *

“Excuse me.”

Your return to consciousness is gradual. You know you’re awake, but your eyes don’t want to open. “MJ, please. ‘M exhausted from the plane ride.”

“Pardon me, but I do believe you have the wrong person. Mister Carter is much younger than I.”

The voice is British. You freeze, then slowly pull the hat off of your face. A kindly looking older gentleman (a butler, you think, based on his attire) is looking down on your, offering you his hand. “Mister Carter is currently in the estate, talking with Master Bruce, if you would please follow me.”

Still in shock, you follow the man back to the house like a lost child. Inside, you can hear MJ trying to talk his way out of a punishment. “You don’t even use this island! Sue me, I wanted to take my significant other on a romantic getaway! I-”

“I could sue you. You’re on private property, used my name to bribe your way onto one of my private planes, then proceeded to squat in my house like an unwanted pest.” You flinch as you hear Bruce Wayne talk to him like that. The first time you meet a pseudo-celebrity, and he’s going to throw you in jail. 

“Ahem. Master Bruce, this is...?” The butler trails off, and you hastily introduce yourself. “They were on the beach, asleep.”

Your face could melt off at this point, you’re so mortified. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne. MJ told me he had booked us a trip, and I just blindly followed him because I’ve been so stressed at work, and I really should have known better, because he’s always pulling shit like this, and I can promise you, whatever you need us to pay for, or do, I can, b-”

“Babe!” MJ interrupts you, walking over and slinging an arm over your shoulder. “Relax, Bruce and I go way back! We’re not really in trouble, it’s fine! Right, Brucie?”

You swear you can see a vein in Bruce’s forehead pop out, but he doesn’t say anything. You, on the other hand, nearly see red. You start beating him with your hat. “You fucking imbecile! You really think there aren’t going to be any consequences? You always just do these things, and you never worry about the effects, because I always do! I’m always cleaning up all of your fucking messes. God, can’t you just for once! Think! Before! You! Do!” You whack him with every word, and you’re about to scratch his eyes out when Bruce Wayne snickers.

You stop, and look at him with wide eyes. He does it again, and even the butler has a ghost of a smile on his face. You’re about to start begging for forgiveness again, when he speaks. “Please, enjoy the rest of your time here. Free of charge, of course. It’s the least I can do, considering how much you have to put up with every day.”

You sag with relief, as does MJ. You almost bow, you’re so grateful, but the ye contact between your boyfriend and the billionaire tells you the conversation, at least for them, isn’t over yet. 

“Excuse me, but would you like some lemonade, over in the kitchen? I’ve made a fresh pitcher, and I would greatly appreciate your feedback,” The butler asks you. You nod, and follow him out. You know when to take the exit given to you. As you’re leaving, you think you hear Bruce Wayne tell MJ “you’re going to be on monitor duty for the next six months”.

When All is Said and Done

So...this is not the Irondad story I promised you. This is my 4.5th Tony vs. Migraine fic, this time featuring Bruce as caretaker. My only excuse is that plotting the other fic is making my brain cells tired and I needed some wwp (whump without plot) and Science Bros fluff to compensate.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless.

Major thanks to @whumphoarder and @twentyghosts for beta reading ❤

___________________

“How bad is it?” Bruce asks the moment the front door shuts behind the last of their guests.

“Huh?” Tony is leaning casually against the wall, trying not to squint too hard against the bright entry lights. He lightly massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

“The headache you think you’ve been hiding so well from everyone tonight. How bad is it?”

Tony lets his hand drop down in surprise. “It’s nothing. I’m just peachy, worrywart.”

Bruce snorts. Then he reaches across the entryway and dials the light down a few notches. Tony inwardly sighs from relief. 

“Let’s go to bed early, yeah?” Bruce suggests softly. “I know you’re just peachy, but I for one am tired. Clint’s wilderness survival stories almost put me to sleep on the sofa. I’m gonna clean up the kitchen and then turn in. ”

Tony has a bunch of bots and probably the highest paid cleaning staff in the whole of New York to take care of the mess left behind by the ever-hungry Avengers. But he knows Bruce is uncomfortable with anyone working for him, so he doesn’t protest, just follows the other man into the kitchen and tries his best to help with putting away the leftovers. 

However, the aura obscuring his left field of vision and the slightly blurred quality of the world don’t really make things easier. When he drops a knife onto the ground next to the drawer for the second time in a row and barely misses his own toe, Bruce finally intervenes. “Okay, that’s it. Bed, now.”

“I’m good. Stop mother-henning me,” Tony bites back a groan when he bends down to pick up the cutlery and the pressure in his head compounds. He has to stabilise himself against the cupboard and take a deep breath before he can get upright again.

“Tony.” 

That’s the tone that gets him, always. The one that tells him Bruce can see right through his facade and openly wonders why Tony is even still making an effort to keep it up. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he concedes. “But don’t come at me later that I’m not doing my fair share of housework.”

Bruce shuts him up with a warm look. “As if I would ever.” 

Tony lets himself be led into the bedroom and groans when he sinks down into the mattress. He feels actually dizzy now, which only increases the nausea building in his stomach. Bruce helps him change from jeans into sweatpants and removes his dress shirt, then gently pushes him into a horizontal position. 

Lying down doesn’t really do anything for the pain in Tony’s head, but at least he can bury his face in one of the pillows and shut out whatever light is left in the room.

Bruce goes back to finish the cleaning and then disappears into the bathroom for a while before joining Tony in bed. He starts circling his fingers through Tony’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp. Tony remembers how weirdly intimate this felt the first time he did it, when he told Bruce that painkillers don’t work for his migraines and the other man offered to try out a different method. Now it’s become a familiar routine, a thing they’ve done a hundred times over the years.

Tony tries to switch off his brain and concentrate on just lying still and relaxing under Bruce’s touch, but he’s kind of terrible at it. It’s hard, so hard, because even now there’s a million ideas buzzing in his head, a never-ending list of projects and potentially world-improving programmes, intermingled with upgrades for Dum-E and Veronica and his armour and inspirations for what to get Bruce for their anniversary. 

The longer Tony is lying down, the more unsettled he gets. He’s not actually that sick; after all, he’s worked through so much more than a stupid migraine. Annoyance at himself bubbles up in his chest, for being unproductive, for wasting time in bed like this. 

Bruce seems to catch on to this. He turns over and rubs his fingers along the line of Tony’s forehead. “What’s up? I can feel you thinking. It’s like an electric hum.”

“Don’t want to be useless,” Tony scoffs. “I hate being useless.” 

“Tony, you’re never useless to me.”

“Hmpff.”

“Okay, fine. Without your headache we would still be sitting on the porch with the others and I would be pretending to have fun playing stupid card games while secretly just wanting to be alone with my books. So, personally, I am pretty happy about the timing of your migraine.”

“Not convincing,” Tony grumbles, but he has to smile. Then his sluggish brain catches on to the implications. “Wait, you’re saying that’s why everyone left early? So Steve didn’t actually have to repair his washing machine?” 

“I doubt he even knows how to do that,” Bruce admits with a smile.

“And Natasha’s date -”

“Shh,” Bruce shushes him with a finger to his lips. 

“Idiots, all of you,” Tony mumbles, but there’s a sugary warm feeling surging in his chest that makes the insult sound almost endearing.

He drifts a bit after that, the thoughts not gone, but muted. His head is throbbing in time with every heartbeat, like his brain is too big for his skull and trying to come out. He’s far from comfortable, but his situation could definitely be worse than lying in bed and feeling Buce’s big spoon body heat behind him. 

Bruce’s breaths even out after a while and it’s almost peaceful, but then Tony’s stomach decides that digestion is too much to handle for it right now and attempts to creep up his throat. He tries for deep and even breaths, but soon enough every one of them starts to feel like it might bring something else with it. 

“Aw, shit,” he murmurs when he can taste the remnants of pizza at the back of his throat, then pushes himself up and tumbles out of bed. The headrush that hits has him almost stagger into the wall. 

He makes it to the toilet and clumsily lifts the seat up in the dark before coughing miserably into the bowl, but nothing comes up. His throat is tight with nausea and he gags again, and retches drily. It’s still unproductive, but this doesn’t mean it’s not hurting like a bitch.

Tony can’t stop a quiet whimper from escaping his mouth. Fucking pathetic. He gags again emptily and then presses his forehead against the cool toilet seat, hoping someone will come and simply knock him out. 

He absentmindedly and quite self-pityingly wonders what he did to the universe to deserve this, then scolds himself for the thought. Once, around four in the morning after a long night in the workshop, a very sleepy Bruce had told him that growing up with an abusive parent made you feel like you’d eventually have to pay for every good thing that happened to you, that happiness comes with a price tag, until one day you just start trying not to feel too happy at all for fear of punishment. 

Tony, who firmly believes that every problem can be solved if one is just clever enough, was horrified at the idea. Since then, he’s tried his best to convince Bruce that he does, in fact, deserve unconditional love and happiness, that pain is something that happens despite, not because of, feeling good, and has showered him with as much affection as humanly possible. 

Thinking that he deserves this migraine is stupid, Tony knows that. Although it might almost make him feel better if he knew that there was a reason why his brain is currently on the verge of blowing up.

“Oh, Tony...” He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but suddenly Bruce is there, resting a hand on his back, all warmth and reassurance. How does a person do this -become such a source of calmness in all the daily stress and pain? “I’m sorry that you’re feeling so bad.”

“I’m okay,” Tony croaks, “‘s just a stupid migraine, I’ll be fine. I'm always fine.”

“Mm-hmm," Bruce says wryly. “I know that. But I also know it hurts now, even if it'll pass eventually."

“Just go back to sleep. I know you're tired.”

“This is such a nice bathroom, though,” Bruce says with a shrug. “Really, I've spent nights in much worse places.”

“Yeah, but- ugh.” Saliva floods Tony’s mouth and then he has to lean forward and heave the few bites of dinner he'd managed to get down earlier back into the toilet bowl, every retch making his head throb viciously. Bruce’s hand is calmly rubbing up and down his back and Tony tries to concentrate on that instead of the disgusting taste in his mouth and the smell that makes him want to throw up again.

Bruce has to help him back to bed eventually because his sense of balance is shot, as is his sense of distances and his sense of, well, anything. Tony hates this most about migraines, the slightly surreal feeling as if the world is constantly slipping from his grip and he’s missing all the important details. It’s even worse than the pain and nausea, because the lack of brainpower makes him feel vulnerable, and, worse, unable to protect those he cares about. Although Bruce arguably isn’t exactly in need of protection, at least not of the physical kind. 

“Brucie?” he mumbles through the pillow and the peppermint drop in his mouth that’s supposed to ease the nausea. 

“Hmm?”

“Do you think the Hulk likes it here?”

“Considering that you built him his own playground to smash, I think he’s pretty content to live in the tower.” Tony can practically hear the frown in Bruce’s tone, but his voice stays soft as he replies. “Why do you ask?”

“Just like this?” 

Bruce hums knowingly and pulls Tony closer towards him.

Once, when Tony was sick with the flu and the fever dreams were messing with him so badly that he couldn’t quite differentiate between reality and nightmares anymore, he thought about telling Bruce how growing up with parents that were never really there and then suddenly dead makes you feel like everyone you ever get close to is going to leave eventually, and that maybe letting people close is not worth the pain of losing them. 

In the end, he didn’t say anything. But miraculously, Bruce was still there when Tony’s fever finally broke, as he was after the next bout of flu, Tony’s heart surgery, and dozens of migraines in between. And now, years later, even Tony’s subconsciousness is finally almost convinced that if Tony gives in to sleep now, Bruce will still be there when he wakes up.

___________________

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Migraine’ square.

The Rules of the Lab

The Rules of the Lab:  A Iron Man Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Word Count: 2407

Pairing:  Tony Stark x F!Reader

Warnings:  Age difference (not used as a kink), Smut (Oral sex, rimming, light d/s, vaginal sex)

Synopsis:  After returning from a long mission Tony shuts himself up in the lab. You decided to test the rules of the lab to get him to realize what he has.

The Rules of the Lab

Living in the Avengers tower when the Avengers were out on a mission was a little weird.  All the agents that worked for them suddenly seemed to relax and goof off.  Like the bosses were out of town so no need to be on guard.  All that is except for Maria Hill who seemed to just become what stress would actually look like if it took human form.

Happy would come and check in on you a little too regularly.  To the point that you weren’t sure if Tony was just constantly worried about you when he wasn’t around or if Happy was just bored and wanted company.  This time around he’d actually asked you to help tell off that Spider-Man kid with him for doing some dangerous thing or other. Which was weird because of the fact he could probably drop kick you into the sun if he wanted to, but also the fact you think he’s the same age as your brother.  Something you pointed out to Tony one time and he’d squirmed like crazy and immediately changed the subject.

You also seemed to be the towers resident pet sitter, taking care of Clint’s dog, Nat’s cat, and Bucky’s service dog and cat.  Also, Nat had a spider collection you had to go check on regularly and Sam had a parrot that someone else had taught to swear.  You were pretty sure the someone else was Bucky.

This time they had been away for a little over two weeks.  They’d gotten back two days ago and you were yet to see Tony for more than a brief kiss in the hall.  You’d asked if he wanted you to come up both nights via text but he’d brushed you off.  You knew it wasn’t about you, but you also couldn’t pretend that you weren’t worried about him.

You didn’t see Bruce for a few days either, but in the time he’d been away you had made a massive break in your research.  It sat on your shoulder now, large and surly and sniffing around the room like it was looking for something to fight.

Bruce came into the lab looking a little smaller than normal and quite pale.

“Hey, Bruce!”  You said, not quite being able to contain the excitement you felt in seeing him returning to the world.  “I’ve missed you.”

“Hi,”  Bruce said quietly, his eyes darting around the room.  “Why is that rat green?”

“Oh, he’s not a rat.”  You answered, holding your hand up to the rodent on your shoulder.  It sniffed your fingers and tentatively stepped onto the palm of your hand.  You placed him on the bench and gave him a treat.  He started eating it and you touched him on the top of the head.  “Boop.”  You chirped.

The rodent dropped the treat and started to convulse.  His body twisted and he let out a shriek before it settled into the form of a small white mouse.

“You made a hulk mouse?”  Bruce said coming over to look at it.  You picked it up and stroked it with your finger.

“Yep.  I pretty much raised him.  He’s been with me all the time since before you left and now in the hulk mode he just gets protective of me.” You explained.  “But he has a trigger.  It’s not like the lullaby.  I built it into him.”

Bruce looked up at you.  “It’s not anger or fear triggered.”

“Nope.  He’s had quite a few trials done.  The videos are all there.  He’ll only hulk out when I do the trigger.”  You answered, your index finger stroking down the back of the mouse.

Bruce shook his head.  “We’re really getting close aren’t we?”

You nodded and rubbed his arm.  “We’re going to get it for sure.”   You took the mouse back to his enclosure and it crawled into its hammock and fell asleep.  “How’s Tony doing?   He’s barely said anything to me since he got back.  At this point, I’m getting a little worried about him.”

“We all get a little funny about socializing after a mission like that one.  It was … rough.”  Bruce said taking a seat at one of the computers and bringing up the files you’d been working on.

“You guys need to start leaning on the people who love you.  That’s what we’re here for.”  You scolded.  “Besides if he keeps it up much longer I’ll start thinking he has a secret family.”

Bruce laughed.  “I’m not sure he hasn’t got some kid he still hasn’t heard about.”

“Jerk.”  You laughed and tossed a pen at him, hitting him in the arm.  “You know he’s like 20 years older than me?  What if he does have a secret kid and they’re my age?”

Bruce looked up at you and grimaced.  “Never say those words to me again.  That’s too weird.”

Your laughter took hold of you and you held your sides.  “Why are you worried?  It’s me that would have to have some stepkid who’s slightly older than me.”

“Please stop.”  Bruce pleaded.  “Go bother Tony.”

You stopped and looked at him, your head tilted.  “You think he won’t mind?”

“Of course not.  I know he doesn’t say it, but he loves you.  He’s just a mess.”  Bruce said.  “And that’s coming from the biggest mess.”

You got up and smiled.  “Thanks, Brucie bear.  I’ll catch you later.”

You were about to head straight to his lab when you had a better idea.  Instead, you headed down to your apartment.  You freshened up and fixed your hair and makeup before coming out and changing into matching black lace panties and bra.  You paired them with a garter and black stockings and a pair of black heels that you had only worn once when Tony insisted on taking you to the Met Gala.  You found a lab coat in your wardrobe and pulled it on, buttoning it all the way up.

When you were happy with your look, you caught the elevator back to the labs and headed straight to Tony’s engineering lab.  He was standing working on one of his Iron Suits that looked like it had definitely seen better days.  You cleared your throat and when he turned to look at you, you smiled.

“Doctor.”  You said in greeting.

“Doctor.”  He replied.  “What brings you to my lab?  Did you have an experiment you needed to run?”

“Mmm… I had something I wanted to try.”  You purred.

Tony got up and approached you slowly, tapping the screwdriver in his hand against his palm.  “What are you wearing?”

“Lab coat.”  You answered.  “I work in a lab.”

“I see that.  You’re not in your lab now though.  This is my lab, and we’re much more informal in here.”  He said.

“My mistake.  I guess I’ll take it off.”  You replied and began unbuttoning your lab coat, revealing your lingerie.  He made a sound that was half whine, half growl and pulled you into his arms.  The screwdriver fell to the ground with a clatter and was quickly forgotten.  You kissed hungrily.  The pent-up desire and need you had from two weeks apart all coming out in that moment.  His hands pushed in under the lab coat and explored your skin while you tugged at his hair.  His mouth moved to your neck, biting at the sensitive spot just under your ear.

“I missed you, Tony.” You whispered, tilting your head back to give him better access to you.  He hummed in reply and pulled your hips forward, so you could feel the way his cock was just beginning to strain against his jeans.  You gripped his hair and pulled his head back to look at you.  “Why didn’t you come see me?”

“I don’t like you to see me like that.  You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”  He said, his eyes darting around, looking everywhere but at you.

You frowned and rested your forehead against his.  “If I can’t take you at your worst, I don’t deserve to have you.”

He took a deep breath in and released it shakily.  “I don’t deserve you.”

“Hey, look at me, old man.”  You said, pulling back a little.  He slowly raised his eyes until he was looking into yours.  “I’m a big girl and I can make my own choices.  Besides you’re probably right.  God knows how bad you’ve got to have been to be lumped with me.  But you’re stuck with your bad decisions now.  I’m not going anywhere.”

He smirked.  “I do try so hard to get rid of you.  You’re an eternal thorn in my side.”

You nuzzled into his neck.  “That’s better.”  You whispered.  “I love you, Tony.”

He made a grunt sound into your hair.  It was a sound that you had come to read as his way of saying I love you too when he was particularly struggling with the words.

Tony started kissing you again and guiding you backward.  You let him lead, giving him the control you normally make him fight for.  When your back hit the glass display case that contained the old Iron Suits he turned you to face it.  He ran his hands up your arms and guided them so your hands were above your head, palms pressed to the glass.  He kept his hands on yours as he kissed your throat and rolled his hips against your ass.  You could feel the press of his erection against your ass.  It made your cunt tingle in anticipation.  His beard scratched your skin as he trailed his mouth down.  His tongue flicked out to taste you leaving a wet trail down to your shoulder.

His hands slid down your arms and cupped your breasts.  He squeezed your supple flesh and pinched your nipples.  You moaned, your head falling back with your eyes closed.  Tony started kissing lower.  He bit at the fabric of your lab coat and dragged his cheek down your back.  When he dropped to his knees he lifted the coat up and yanked your panties down to your knees.

Your hands slipped on the glass and you opened your eyes.  The Mark XLVI suit looked on as Tony pried your ass cheeks apart and his tongue slithered over your asshole.  Your knees buckled and you moaned.  Tony’s fingers gripped your ass as he lapped over your tight hole.  Your cunt ached for relief while at the same time you didn’t want him to stop.  His tongue worked over your ass.  It was a sweet torture and you dripped for him.

Your hands fell from the glass and you gripped his wrists.  Your head falling back in ecstasy.  “Oh, fuck.  Tony.”  You groaned.

He spun you to face him and his mouth went straight to your pussy.  He sucked at your folds and his tongue rolled over them, tasting as much of you as he could.  You carded your fingers through his hair and leaned over him as he began to place sloppy open mouth kisses on your clit.  His fingers thrust inside of you as he nipped at your clit.

It was too much.  You could barely hold yourself up as you came undone.  A wildfire raged inside you and you cried out.  Tony reached up squeezing your breast and giving you a way to brace yourself against him.  He held you in place as he brought your rapidly to orgasm, fucking you hard with his fingers and biting at your clit.

“Tony.   Tony.  I can’t… I’m gonna.”  You pleaded.  He moaned against your pussy and curled his fingers inside of you pressing hard against your g-spot.  Your core clenched and you came, falling back against the glass.

Tony got to his feet and unfastened his fly, releasing his erection.  You hooked your leg around his hips and drew him closer to you.  He grabbed your thighs and lifted you, thrusting his cock deep into your cunt.

“Fuck.”  You gasped.

“I missed how you feel.”  He whispered.  He brought his lips to yours and you kissed.  You licked your juices from his lips.

Tony started fucking you hard against the glass.  The suits began to rattle on their stands and the Mark XLVI fell forward.  It’s head making a dull thunk as it banged on the glass beside your head.

Both you and Tony started laughing.

“Same, buddy,”  Tony said, putting his palm against the spot where the mask rested.  He kept rutting into you.  You were helpless to do anything but hold on, your fingers digging into his back.  You came again, your cunt clenching around him, squeezing his cock.  He groaned and buried his face in your neck.  His hips snapped up and he came, spilling inside of you.  

He slipped out of you and lowered you to the ground slowly as you both caught your breath.

“Okay.”  You huffed, leaning your head against his shoulder and pulling your panties back up.  “Good reconnect.”

He chuckled and patted your head.  “Not too bad.  I feel I could have lasted a little longer.”

“Eh, don’t beat yourself up.  You’re an old man, remember?  It’s hard to keep up.”  You teased.

He shook his head and you could tell he was trying very hard not to laugh.  Instead, he grabbed your wrist and twisted your arm behind your back, before pulling you into a hard kiss.

You broke it with a hum and helped him buckle his pants back up.  “You know what’s going to happen now?”

He nuzzled against your neck and skimmed his fingertips over your cheek.  “No what?”

“We’re going to the penthouse and getting cleaned up.  Maybe we can take a bath.”  You said, ghosting your lips against his cheek.

“No…”   Tony groaned, dragging the word out or several beats.

“Oh, yes.”  You said with a nod.  “And then you’re taking me out to dinner.  Somewhere fancy.  You’re gonna wear a suit.”

“What?  But I have to…”  He whined pointing at the damaged suit he was working on.

You shrugged and pushed him towards the door.  “Should have thought of that when you ignored me for two days.”

“Yes, dear.”  He huffed, then straightened up and took your hand.  “Right, dinner.  Good idea. We should definitely eat.”

“Then after we can do this again, only I’ll be in charge.”  You added, quirking your eyebrow at him.

He laughed and bumped you with his shoulder.  “Well, that one doesn’t sound so bad.”

// NEXT

“Wouldn’t be a Family Without You” (Avengers Family Hurt/Comfort)

This commission is for @mikikay and features Tony being the usual self sacrificing dummy we know and love, and his family stepping in to take care of him! 

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The mission had been been awful, gone to shit right off the bat and getting steadily worse minute by minute.

Casualties were unavoidable, though the team tried to keep them to a minimum. An attempt had been made to avoid bringing down entire buildings, but between the Hulk being loose and the Captain’s arguably unnecessary habit of just leaping through windows and walls instead of using doors like a normal person-- well there was quite a bit of rubble by the time they managed to put an end to the mayhem.

Tony had the Stark Disaster Relief team en route before the Quinjet had even taken off from the scene and by the time they all made it back to Compound, the first members of the relief team were on site trying to work through the damage and help those who immediately needed help. .

There were groans and grimaces as the team struggled out of the jet and into the Compound, curses and muffled cries as they dropped one by one onto couches and chairs or in Clint’s case-- face down onto the floor to groan into the hardwood something unintelligible about his arms falling off..

“Alright guys, come here and let me take a look at you.” Tony was always the first one to go and get first aid supplies post battle and today was no exception. He brought along bandages and pain pills and a case of water, tossing everyone a bottle before he knelt down to take a look at Bruce first. “How you doing, big guy? Just some bumps and bruises? When you de-hulked you sort of splatted on to some busted concrete--”

“My bad, Brucie-bear.” Sam lifted his hand tiredly. “I know I was on Bruce catching duty today but I couldn’t get over there fast enough.”

“It’s fine.” Bruce waved him off. “I’ve got a headache and that's about it, so no harm no foul.”

“I’ll get you some tea.” Tony jumped back up and jogged towards the kitchen to start a cup of tea, returning with a cold compress for Bruce’s head, tsking over a scrape at the doctors temple. “Sit tight for a few minutes, alright? You want me to put a bandaid on your cut or anything?”

“It’ll heal.” Bruce grunted, but he sighed and leaned into the touch when Tony fussed at his hair for a minute, brushing the unruly curls back so they weren’t in his eyes. “Thank you, Tony.”

Next up was Sam, whose knuckles were torn and bloody from a fight that had gotten too close for comfort after he’d ran out of ammo. Tony cleaned them as best he could, picking gravel out of the deeper ones before soothing the swollen, busted joints with cooling medicated cream and wrapping Sam’s hands and up around his wrist tightly.

“Did you break your wrist?” He asked then, eyeing the uncomfortable angle to the bone and Sam shook his head muttering, “Just a sprain.”

“I’ll get you an ice pack.” Tony decided, already on his way back to the kitchen to dig around in the freezer. “Is ibuprofen going to work today or do you want some of the good stuff?”

Sam cracked a grateful smile. “Always the good stuff, Tony. Thank you.”

“Me next, me next, me next.” Clint whimpered pitifully, then shrieked when Natasha kicked out at him. “Ow! Watch the ribs!”

“I thought it was your arms. Or your shoulders.” Natasha retorted, opening her knife and slitting the leg of her suit from knee to ankle. “Or are you just a whole ball of whiny today?”

“You’re a whole ball of bitchy today.” Clint retorted, slapping her foot away when she tried to kick him again. “Leave me alone, Widow.”

“Calm down kids.” Tony stepped over Clint and handed Nat a glass of water that wasn’t so much water as it was several shots of hard alcohol topped off by a few ice cubes. “Is your leg an emergency Tasha, or can I deal with Legolas first?”

“Not an emergency.” she confirmed, tipping the glass back and draining most of it. “Just need a handful of stitches and maybe another of shot of this particular good stuff--” she shook the glass. “--and I’ll be good to go.”

“Lovely.” Tony said dryly, and crouched down next to Clint. “Alright Clint, where does it hurt?”

“Literally everywhere.” Clint fussed, but even Natasha gasped a little when Tony helped the archer pull his shirt off and they all saw the mass of bruises across his shoulders and down his back. “Falling from buildings isn’t super fun, how come no one caught me? We call catch Tony when he falls. Sam, where were you on that one? I thought you were on catching duty today.”

“I was busy trying to catch Bruce.” Sam snorted, and Bruce added, “But you didn’t catch me either.” and Clint finished, “Big man with wings? You’re basically useless.”

“If my hands didn’t hurt so bad, I’d punch you for that.” Sam threatened and Clint made a face. “Call me useless? You’re basically Robin Hood.”

“Hey.” Clint pointed a finger in Sam’s direction, which was as disgruntled as he could act with Tony working at the bruises on his shoulder. “I’m not Robin Hood. I don’t wear tights.”

“You sort of wear tights.” Tony said mildly, pressing at Clint’s ribs to make sure nothing shifted too far or snapped when it wasn’t supposed to. “I don’t know how you move in those leggings.”

“They aren’t leggings.” Clint huffed, groaning over a particularly tender spot. “They are streamlined utility pants. Also, what the hell are you putting on my back, it smells like a junkyard.”

“Yeah, it smells terrible but it will help with the swelling.” Tony squirted more of the gel on Clint’s back. “Anything feel broken? I checked your ribs and I think you’re okay there.”

“Nothing’s broken.” Clint mumbled, his words muffled in the floor. “I counted my bones, I think they’re all there.”

“Alright, you’ll be fine.” Tony snagged a pillow from the couch and pushed it under Clint’s head before moving over to Natasha, eyeing the gash on her leg nervously. “Just a  few stitches, huh?”

“Just a few.” Nat flopped back onto the couch, holding the cool glass up to her forehead. “But if you don’t want to do it--”

“I’ve stitched you up enough times to know how to do it.” Tony hummed, prodding at the cut a few times to make sure nothing was--ick-- oozing before cleaning it gently. He ripped open the package holding the sterile needle and thread and glanced up one more time. “You want me to numb you up?”

“I don’t have any feeling there anyway, remember the shrapnel from a few years ago?” Natasha waved him off. “Just do it, can’t take more than ten stitches. I’m fine.”

“Alright honey.”

Steve grimaced and looked away at the first prick of the needle, slouching in his chair and scrubbing his hands down his face. He was less hurt than the other members of the team, but still battered and sore and cranky as all get out over how badly the mission had gone. Every moment from the mission was running round and round in his head as he tried to catalog what had gone wrong when, what they would need to do next to time to make sure that sort of thing didn’t go wrong again.

Steve needed a good run to work out some of the leftover energy from fighting, then a shower to wash the ick from his hair and from under his nails and then he was going to--

“Easy does it, Cap.” Soft fingers were gliding through his hair then, and Steve closed his eyes automatically as Tony felt around his scalp for any large bruises, any cuts he might not have noticed. He’d jumped through at least two different windows today and had been thrown through another so it wouldn’t be the first time there’d been glass in his hair or stuck in his skin.

“All clean, Spangles.” Tony patted him on the shoulder. “You should take a shower then do a few laps in the pool so you don’t feel so anxious, I can see the wheels in your head churning and I know you’re stressing out about this whole thing, but it wasn’t your fault. Sometimes things just suck. We’re fighting super villians and their minions for gods sake, we can’t be expected to know everything that’s going to happen. Take a swim, stop worrying about it, and then some sleep, yeah?”

“Sure thing, Tony.” Steve smiled tiredly up at him. “What would we do without you?”

“Have to get real jobs and pay for your own stuff.” Tony said flatly, but he winked and started cleaning up the supplies. “Everybody else go take showers and try to get some sleep too. I’ll order dinner for about eight and have JARVIS wake you up, alright?”

“Thank you Tony.”

“See you in bit.”

“Love you Tony.”

One by one the team shuffled out of the living room, heading for their own beds while Tony cleaned up and ordered some dinner to be delivered. Once that was done, he headed directly down to his lab.

“Sir?” JARVIS’s voice pitched in alarm the moment Tony stepped into the room, the full body scans at the door showing the AI exactly which injuries Tony had sustained during the battle. “Sit down immediately.”

“I’m trying.” Tony wheezed, his steps faltering now that he was out of view of the team. His jacket came off slowly, painfully, dropping onto the floor and smearing the white tile with red from the hole in his side that hadn’t stopped bleeding yet.

“Fuck.” he slumped into the closest chair and put his head in his hands. “Dum-E? I need a first aid kit pronto.”

“You need a hospital.” JARVIS said disapprovingly. “I’ll call an EMT--”

“Nope, I’m fine.” Tony groaned when his shoulder pulled uncomfortably, rifling through a nearby cabinet for a shot of lidocaine. “Just gonna numb the hell up and then slap a few stitches in it and call it a day.”

“You should at least warn the others that you will be out of commission--”

“Nope.” Tony interrupted again. “They don’t need to know, they’d only worry. By the way? We need to work on the response speed of my suit. I took a hit and the nanos didn’t reform fast enough to protect my side, which is why I’m currently bleeding out on my--” Tony’s vision swam as he got suddenly light headed. “-- hey look at that. I am getting blood all over my very expensive shoes. Say JARVIS, I think maybe you should call that EM---”

***********************

Tony came to in his own bed, groggy and unsure of what had happened, staring up in confusion at the huddle of concerned faces around him.

“Hey guys.” he rasped. “What uh-- what happened? Is everything okay? Did I miss dinner?”

“Did you miss dinner?” Steve was wearing his patented Captain America scowl of disapproval. “I was in the shower when JARVIS came online to tell me you needed some help in the lab!”

“And when we got down there--” from Sam, whose scowl of disapproval was nearly as quelling as Steve's. “-- we found your dumb ass passed out on the floor, bleeding from your side with your stupid robot bumping you in the head with a first aid kit!”

“Dum-E isn’t--” Tony paused. “Alright, well he didn’t have to hit me in the head with the first aid kit I guess. Is that why I have a headache?”

“The headache is from your less than graceful splat from your chair.” Bruce elbowed his way in and propped Tony up far enough help him take a drink. “I saw the video feed from the lab. You were literally complaining about bleeding out on your ridiculous shoes, then just pitched forward and face planted. You’re lucky you didn’t break your nose.”

“And for the record?” Clint pushed Bruce aside, groaning and gasping as he tried to crawl up on the bed with his injured ribs, settling next to Tony and patting at his thigh. “I feel very guilty for bitching about my arms being sore when you had a hole the size of a half dollar in your side.”

“I had to stitch you up.” Natasha finally spoke from the foot of the bed, her eyes wide and face pale and Tony frowned seeing the usually unshakable spy looking so scared. “I thought you were going to bleed out and there was no way we could get you to a hospital fast enough to save you.”

“It’s alright Nat” Tony grimaced as he tried to shift to share more of the pillow with Clint. “That didn’t happen, so everything’s fine.”

“The only reason you didn’t bleed out is because JARVIS unlocked that super secret cabinet for us, the one where you keep the toys you don’t want us knowing about.” Sam spread another blanket over Tony’s legs and Bruce offered him another drink of water. “Nat stitched you up as best as she could then we gave you a shot of whatever that silver stuff was in the vial and--”

“JARVIS, you let them use the NanoSkin?” Tony interrupted. “That's still in a testing phase and--”

“--And it tested fine.” JARVIS said smoothly. “I instructed them to give you only enough to reknit your skin together, not enough to heal the wound completely since we don’t know how they will affect your arc reactor.”

“Oh.” Tony sighed and went a little limp. “Okay. Well thanks guys. Good teamwork.”

“You could have died, Tony.” From Steve, his scowl sliding into something mournful. “Don’t be that stupid again.”

“Seriously.” Clint was warm and solid against Tony and he started to drift back towards sleep when the archer pressed closer. “I always forget you can get hurt, flying around in that big ol’ tin can but you don’t have to remind me by nearly dying, huh? Take about ten to twenty percent off the top there.”

“Sure thing.” Tony yawned and Natasha bent down to kiss his forehead, whispering, “We wouldn’t be a family if we lost you, Tony.”

“Yeah.” Sam cut in. “And Bruce is so cranky, we’d all run away from home if you weren’t around so unless you want to be directly responsible for a group of homeless Avengers causing trouble in the city, maybe don’t go dying on us.”

“That’s quite enough from you.” Bruce frowned at Sam, and left a fresh water bottle on Tony’s end table. “Get some sleep Tony, don’t worry about anything. We can manage a day without you.”

“And as long as Clint’s sleeping too, nothing bad will happen anyway.” Steve added.

“I’d throw something at you for that, but my arms hurt too bad.” Clint said pathetically and Tony laughed softly.

“Ugh. I love you guys.”

“We love you too, Tony.”

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SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

AUTHORS DRINK KO-FI ON SUNDAYS TOO!

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Monster? (2)

Black OC x Tony Stark(past relationship)

Summary: Tony finds out the truth and Steve has a bad feeling.

Warning: Mentions of abortion, angst, cursing.

A/N: At long last! I thought I’d complete this before I turn in a paper. Enjoy and feedback is always welcomed! I’m also tagging people who showed interest in part one. 

"You fucking monster." Tony's fists were clenched at his sides as she spit his venom at Cleo through clenched teeth. 

"Tony. Not now, okay? She's in pain and needs to see Bruce." Bucky clutched Cleo tighter to him and stepped to the side to move past Tony but was blocked.

"This is how you get back at me? You fake a pregnancy AND an abortion. I'll admit the way I ended things between us were cruel but this is a whole new level." Tony scoffed and looked at Cleo with disgust. It made her want to disappear.

"Shut up, Stark. You have no idea what you're talking about, okay?" Bucky pushed past Tony and began walking to the elevator. Tony didn't let up and followed.

"Cleo, come on. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you wanna hear? You don't have to go around lying to the team you were pregnant just to make me out to be the bad guy!"

The elevator finally opened and Tony continued to follow.

"Get out, Stark," Bucky growled with his teeth clenched. If it wasn't for Cleo being in his arms, Bucky would've pushed Tony out and sent him back to Pepper with a black eye.

"No, Cleo and I are settling this now. Why won't you talk to me, huh? You had so much to say when we broke up. Now that I've called you out on your bullshit, you wanna be mute?" Tony scoffed throwing his head back. "Unbelievable. I never took you for this type of person, Clo."

"You have no right, Tony." Cleo's voice came out hoarse due to the pain. "You have no fucking right."

Cleo's head started to throb and her cramps grew stronger. If she wasn't in so much pain, Tony's pants would be on fire by now. Bucky felt her body heat up in his arms and called out to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

"Fri! Please notify Bruce and tell him to meet me half way!"

"Certainly, Sergeant Barnes."

When they finally reached the floor for Bruce's lab, Bucky sprinted down the hall and Tony couldn't keep up.

"Tony!" Steve caught up to them and tried to rectify the situation for now.

"Stop it, okay? She's clearly in pain and she wasn't lying. Buck and I saw the pregnancy test for ourselves and even took her to the clinic for the abortion today. She needs to rest and you are not helping. You two do need to talk about it, but not like this." Steve placed a hand on Tony's shoulder to try and calm him down.

"If she was pregnant, how come I never heard about it? We were together I should've been the first person to know!" Tony shrugged off Steve's hand roughly and began to stomp his way down to Bruce's lab with Steve in tow.

"She was going to the day you broke up with her. Had the ultrasound picture ready and everything." Steve reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded picture, handing it to Tony.

Tony unfolded the picture to see the ultrasound Steve had just mentioned.

He was ready to dismiss it all, that the ultrasound didn't show anything but then he saw that small image of an undeveloped fetus.

All the anger he was feeling was washed from his body and replaced with regret.

"How far was she?" His voice cracked as tears threatened to spill out.

"Eight weeks. She went so long without knowing it and then the day everything happened, she fainted and Nat forced her to go to Bruce. She was so excited to tell you, Tony."

"She could've told me afterward. We could've worked something out. Pepper, she would've-"

"Understood? Would she really, Tony?"

"No." Tony let out a dry laugh and shook his head.

"We used to talk about having kids. I told her how scared I was to be like my father but she assured me that I was nothing like him and that she would help me be the best father if the time ever came. The fucking time came and I wasn't there for her. I'm worse than my father." Tears ran down his face and fell on the ultrasound.

Before Steve had given him the picture, Tony was furious at Cleo about the baby he thought was fake. Now, he felt nothing but remorse and regret. He never imagined that their breakup would result in this. He would have never let Pepper slither back into his life if he did.

Steve comforted Tony as much as he could and watched as Tony quickly wiped away the tears. He flicked his wrist to show off the ultrasound and turned to Steve.

"You didn't have to break her heart like that, Tony."

"At the time, yes, I did. Pepper, she- nevermind. It's too late now."

"Tony, Is there something you need to tell me?" Steve questioned. If Pepper had a bigger hand in this, he needed to know now and figure out how to handle it later.

"Can I keep this?  It's the only connection I really have to the baby and now that they're gone, I at least want to remind myself that this was real." Tony deflected. Steve could already tell that he wasn't going to get any answers now so he decided to let it go and try again another time.

"Sure, Tony. You stay here, I'm going to go check on Cleo and see if she's good enough to talk, okay?"

Tony nodded and watched as Steve jogged down the hall. When the captain was out of sight, he looked back down at the ultrasound.

"What have you done, Stark?"

When Steve entered the room,  he sighed in relief that Cleo was wide awake sitting on the exam table with an IV drip attached to her and Bucky at her side. Bucky smiles at Steve when he sees his lover but Cleo was too invested in her cellphone game. Steve cleared his throat for her attention and laughed when her head shot up. her eyes wide to look at him.

"Good to see that you're doing better. Everything okay?" Steve leaned against the doorframe to examine her from a distance.

Cleo nodded her head and lifted up her IV arm a little.

"Just a bit too stressed out. Brucie is putting me on bedrest for two days after this drip finishes up." Her eyes rolled. Cleo hated being off duty for anything. Granted, she would have happily done so if she had continued with her pregnancy but only when she reached the end of her second trimester. Cleo loved to stay busy and hated feeling useless and dependent.

"I think that's for the best darling" Bucky chuckled. Steve forced a small smile as the conversation he had with Tony ran through his head. What would have really happened had Cleo told Tony about the baby? Would the baby still be here? Would Cleo still be here at the tower if she did keep the baby? Steve wasn't too sure about that at the moment. What he was sure of is that Pepper had something to do with Tony and Cleo breaking up and something tells him that she's going to hurt Cleo more than she already has if she finds out about her and Tony's would be baby.

So what is Pepper hiding? What hand does she have in this game?

Steve made it his mission to find out, for Cleo's sake.

Steve can't stand to see Cleo cry like that again.

Wooden Fans

For @charcoal-soul, who always gives me the best ideas, even when she doesn’t intend to. Fans are awesome and I feel like a plotting courtesan in the royal palace guest wing about to murder an ambassador that insulted my honor and start a smear campaign of vicious gossip about his business partner.

~*~

Outwardly, Tim was all cool and perfectly polished civility, smiling and laughing charmingly in all the appropriate places as the Ambassador from Metropolis continuously managed to insult him, his family, and his king. Inwardly, he seethed with icy rage. It was clear the man had no idea who he was clumsily flirting with. After all, who would expect a son of Bruce Wayne, even adopted as he was, to play the part of a highly trained geisha during a private party that by all rights he had no business attending?  

The things he subjected himself to as Bruce’s spymaster weren’t usually so involved. A kimono, complete with an elaborate obi, was new for him.

Ambassador Corben laughed uproariously as one of his traveling companions, Oswald Cobblepot, formerly of Gotham, but now firmly in Lex Luthor’s pockets, made a comment about Bruce and his propensity towards adoption. He slammed his hand on the table as he brayed like the mule he was. “Dammit, Oswald, if that isn’t the perfect description of old Brucie. Keeps firing blanks, so he collects all those pretty boys instead.”

Tim delicately raised a hand to cover his mouth as he chuckled, resisting the urge to punch the boorish oaf. “Well, he does have one blood son.”

The Ambassador waved him off. “That little piece of shit will never amount to much. Gotham is screwed if he takes the throne. Much better if that circus freak does instead. At least he knows how to bend over and take it up the ass, which is exactly what he’ll be doing if King Lex has any say in the matter.”

How this man became an ambassador in the first place was beyond Tim. John Corben was rude, crude, and while there was a veneer of intelligence that appeared during his and Cobblepot’s meetings earlier today with Bruce, Dick, and Tim, this was about as far from what Luthor usually threw at them as it could be. What was his newest scheme? Was he trying to provoke them into war? Because if word got out about what was being said, then Bruce by all rights could force Corben and his cronies to leave, which would instigate yet another squabble between Gotham and Metropolis.

“Now, Corben,” Cobblepot wheezed gratingly. “You know the old saying, the one about walls having ears?”

He too was brushed off in favor of more wine that Tim poured for him. “Ozzy, shut your flapping beak. I know why you’re here. Lexie thinks you can keep me under control. Well, you can sod off, you fat penguin.”

Cobblepot bristled even as he made that ridiculous squawking noise that earned him his nickname. “Corben, you’re a damn fool if you think that’s the only reason I’m here!” But unlike his colleague, the fat little man knew when to keep his mouth shut and didn’t elaborate.

Tim rather wished he could turn his attention on the former Gothamite. The Penguin was clearly the one with an agenda here and had braved Bruce’s wrath by returning to Gotham under the umbrella of diplomatic immunity after his exile years ago. What was he here for? It had to be something Luthor wanted.  

He was distracted from his thoughts as the Ambassador ran a thick finger along Tim’s face, forcing his attention back on him. “You’ve got such a pretty mouth, little boy. It reminds me of those cocksucker princes. You ever have a chance to dress up for them and put those skills to good use, huh? Or do they bend over and let you fuck them too?”

That was it. Tim was going to utterly destroy Corben, even if it meant he had to declare war on Lex Luthor himself.  

It took some doing, but Tim managed to extricate himself from the party before the Ambassador got any more ideas about where he wanted his cock tonight. He sneaked into the palace via a secret side door that only members of royal family knew of and made his way across the compound through moonlight gardens to the rooms he shared more often than not with his lover, Prince Jason. The cool night air had calmed his rage somewhat, and as he slid open the thin door on his private veranda, Tim sighed in relief as he carefully stepped out of his geta and wiggled his toes in the tabi socks he’d worn with them. Too bad ninja clothing wouldn’t have had the same effect tonight.

He took a seat at his dressing table and carefully started to remove his jewelry and hair ornaments. Bruce was going to have a field day with this. Tim debated about informing him right away, but a glance at his clock showed the time to be much later than he’d thought. Even the king had to sleep sometime and in these quiet hours of the early morning, Bruce managed to sleep best.

Slipping a wooden fan out of his voluminous sleeve, Tim tapped it idly against his lips, trying to decide what the best course of action would be. Really, Corben was a nobody in this particular game. The real threat was Cobblepot and his network of business associates. The little man had his fat fingers in just about everything back in the day and he was certain the Penguin had returned to reestablish connections with those people and cause general unrest amongst the populace. They were still recovering from Luthor’s previous attack, which almost crippled their entire banking system. The last thing they needed was a civil war.

Behind him, he heard the quiet noise of his door sliding open and then closed. “You’re back,” Jason said, announcing himself, striding across the room on silent feet.  

“I am,” Tim replied, still lost in thought.

Jason placed his hands on Tim’s shoulders and started kneading gently, running his magic fingers over the tense muscles. “You’re stressed.”

Tim leaned back into the warm embrace of his lover. Jason was Bruce’s second adopted son, but by both of their own agreements had removed himself from the line of succession in favor of Tim, preferring a scholarly life that bordered on monkish at times with how frequent he would hole up in the library, only to emerge days later worn and wan, but brimming with new things to share with whomever would listen. Solid muscle wrapped around Tim, reminding him that Jason was also as much of a warrior as he was. His warrior monk.  

“I had to sit and listen to Ambassador Corben call us Bruce’s little cocksuckers and insinuate that all we’re good for is taking it up the ass for the highest bidder.”

Jason’s hands stilled. “Did he now?”

“He did. I want to toss him off the bridge with rocks tied to his feet.”

“Let me know if you do. I’ll bring the rope.”

Tim glanced over his shoulder at Jason. “We’ve got a bigger problem than Corben though.”

“Oh?”

“I think I figured out why the Penguin is with him.”

Jason frowned. “He’s here to stir up trouble, isn’t he?”

“I think so. He insinuated he was more than just a babysitter, but unlike Corben, he knows when to keep his mouth shut. I can’t help but think there’s something else going on though. This move is too obvious for someone like Lex.”

Sighing, Jason leaned over to rest his chin on Tim’s silken clad shoulder. In their reflection from the mirror, Tim thought he looked particularly handsome, wrapped around him like this. “So what’s the plan then?”

Tim deftly opened his fan with a flick of his wrist and coquettishly raised it to his lips, decision made. Corben and Cobblepot could wait a few hours. “For the moment, you’re going to help me out of these robes so I can wash up. Then, we’re going to bed where we may or may not have sex while we try to figure out how to best tail Cobblepot, as well as think up ways to get Ambassador Corben to make a complete ass out of himself in front of Bruce and the rest of the court.”

Jason was already untying the elaborate bow of the obi Tim had worn tonight. The folds of fabric fell to the floor and his fingers drifted up Tim’s back to gently slide the silken fabric and cotton under-robe from his shoulders, revealing pale white skin. He leaned over again, eyes locked on Tim in their reflection as his lips brushed the top of his shoulder. “You sure you want to wait until we go to bed?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Tim teased, eyes dancing as he snapped his fan shut.

“I do. Want to hear it?”

He was fairly certain he knew what Jason wanted to do. The kimono was rather fetching after all. “Only if it involves this mirror. I’d love to watch.”

Jason’s grin was all the answer he needed.

Hello! First of all, I love your blog sooo much I think it's absolutely amazing

So glad you like the blog! Thanks for the request! It’s a little long, but I hope you like it!

I ship you with: Bruce!

You and Bruce met long before you two realized it. You were a famous author and back before the whole Hulk fiasco he attended one of your book signings at Culver. Bruce didn’t read a lot of fiction but he fell in love with the way you brought your books to life. You two exchanged pleasantries as you signed his book and you thought to yourself that you usually didn’t go for the cute professor types but for him you’d make an exception. Bruce was just glad to get through a conversation with you without making a fool of himself, he hadn’t expected you to be so beautiful. 

Years passed and you two went your separate ways, you continued to several New York Times Number One Bestsellers and Bruce became the Hulk, and finally found his true home with The Avengers. 

You two finally reconnected at one of Stark’s charity galas. Bruce froze mid sentence when he caught a glance of you across the room. Suddenly that day at Culver’s bookstore rushed back to him. You had only grown more beautiful as time passed and Bruce had kept up with your writing career. Tony noticed that Bruce had been staring at you all night and decided to take matters into his own hand. 

You didn’t really know how to react when Tony Stark came up to you and started chatting. Your publicist had recommended that you attend this gala since you were about to release another novel soon and being out on the town drawing attention was good for sale. As much as you loved your publicist, you were bored out of your mind. You could’ve been at home curled up on the couch watching Netflix but yet you were here trying to not to insult Tony Stark by showing how bored you were. 

You had zoned out but then were brought back to the present when Tony wrapped his arm around your waist and practically dragged you to the bar where Bruce was trying not to flounder when he noticed you were headed his way. 

“So Miss, this is my friend Bruce. You own every one of her books, don’t you Brucy?” Tony teased. 

Bruce was trying to hide his blush but it caught your eye and it surprised you that you blushed in return. You weren’t sure what it was about this man but you were instantly drawn to him. 

“It’s lovely to meet you Bruce, I’m Y/N.” 

“Oh I know.” Bruce said and then mentally face palmed at how awkward he was. 

You laughed “It’s okay, I’m great with words on the page but not in real life. I will put my foot in my mouth a time a two before this conversation is over.”

Bruce smiled at you then and his smile was so bright it warmed your insides.

Neither you or Bruce expected that four months later he’d be in your bed reading over you soon to be released novel. You leaned against the doorway and watched him for a moment. He was so relaxed when he was reading, and it made you feel good that your words could give him some relief from the stress of his life. You brought out the best in Bruce and he did the same for you. You two made each other stronger, Bruce was more calm around you, you were bolder around him, finding courage you didn’t know you had. You loved him, you realized as you stared at the beautiful caring man in your bed.

Bruce looked up then and froze as he saw you watching him, a small smile forming on his face. 

“What are you staring at?” 

You smiled at him and Bruce swears his heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t told you he loved you yet. He didn’t know if it was too soon and he didn’t want to ruin the amazing thing you two had. 

“Just observing how engrossed you are in my book.” 

Bruce sat up then, energized by your statement. “It’s amazing, sweetheart! The plot twist in chapter 15, people are gonna go crazy!” 

You walked over to him then and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure they will.”

Two weeks later you dropped by Bruce’s lab to show him the first hardcopy of your new book. 

When he opened the cover tears sprang to his eyes. 

The dedication page read: 

To my best friend, my confidant, and my superhero. I love you, more than you’ll ever know.

[A cheer up 🎁 for @babydxhl I know you’re having a rough time. Sending my love.] Mary’s less than festive anger gave Roxy a pretty solid chuckle. She’d probably be angry too if Mary had broken into her apartment in the ungodly hours of the morning and bribed her (if she’d had them) henchmen into taking the holidays off. “Come on. I got a day planned. I already packed you a bag and wrangled that goblin of yours into a carrier.” It took considerable effort to coax Mary into some warm clothes and even more effort to coax her into the car, her grumbling mood made worse by Roxy’s insisting she ride in the car seat, strapped in next to a bright pink cat carrier adorned with sliver garland. Roxy mostly drowned out Mary’s complaining and questions by signing along loudly with Christmas music. As if lshe could correct Mary’s mood through sheer force of cheer. 🎶 Ho ho ho, bring a bottle of rum! Ho ho ho, cream and whiskey bourbon! Ho ho ho, bring a bottle of booze! We got nothing to lose, ho ho ho!🎶 After almost an hours drive past the picturesque snow topped trees lining the highway out of the city they pulled up at a busy tree farm, just outside the outskirts of Gotham. Children screamed excitedly, frolicking through the fluffy white snow. Parents looked stressed and happy in equal measure. Young couples held hands as they browsed through the trees, a young woman insisting to her laughing girlfriend that she could cut down a rather large tree she flexed dramatically much to her girlfriends delight. Roxy took a deep breath through her nose. “Doesn’t it just smell like Christmas Mary?” The reply she got consisted mostly of swear words. Roxy laughed it off, plopping Mary, who struggled half heartedly as if she wanted to give Roxy a hard time, but didn’t want to be dropped face first into the snow into a brand new stroller. She left her suv running, with the heat on low for that...thing. “Look Mary. All terrain tires, top of the line. Extra fancy. I’ll even let you pick the tree.” More cursing. Roxy laughed again, starting up a rousing chorus. 🎶You will get a sentimental feeling when you hear voices singing, let's be jolly! Deck the halls with boughs of holly!🎶 Pushed Mary through the well trod paths between the trees, a new stroller had probably been unnecessary but Christmas was for buying stuff. Her singing had tapered off into cheerful humming as she tapped the farm provided saw against the stroller handles to the tune of jingle bells. Her humming faltered only slightly when Mary pointed out a reasonably tall tree, but with thick full branches and an even thicker trunk. Roxy just locked the wheels of the stroller and set to work on the tree. 45 minuets later, Roxy was both sweaty and freezing, her fingers numb and her palms burning as she sawed through the extremely dense tree. She was in too deep to admit defeat and ask Mary to pick a thinner tree. This was their tree now and Roxy was going to cut it down. Finally another 20 minuets later the tree fell with a soft whump into the snow, spraying the stroller with pine needles and snow. That gave Roxy another hearty laugh as the farm attendants hurried forward to bind and load the tree. “It’s actually a beautiful tree you salty little grinch.” Roxy commented as the attendants secured the tree to the roof of the car. Roxy tugged off her coat as she got back in the car, thankful for antiperspirant and seat heaters. Tree secured firmly to the roof Roxy set off back towards the city another near hour drive. Parking in a severely over priced and over crowded parking garage, Roxy got Mary into the stroller with significantly less struggling and headed off to some extremely fancy shops, she only picked up packages at each one and the uniformed staff would rush them off to the car. The great thing about Christmas is everyone was too absorbed in their own business to really pay too much mind to the pair, Roxy with her trademark curls shoved under a Santa hat and Mary hidden by the canopy of the stroller. They entered an incredibly busy electronics store, not that anyone would have been able to tell from the outside, the whole block of shops adhering to an Olde Gotham aesthetic. Inside was chaotic. Two women were yelling at each other and at who appeared to be a manager. The line for the customer service desk practically reached the door. Roxy sighed, tapping her foot impatiently as she tried to formulate a plan. Quickly she hoisted Mary out of the stroller, her round face already pink from the cold. “Cry.” Mary shot her a dry look. “Come on. Do you wanna be here all day? Just cry and make it believable.” Mary let out a pretty believable wail directly in Roxy’s ear. Real tears welled up in her eyes and it was easy for Roxy to look flustered and stressed out. Mary’s crying attracted some attention. However people quickly returned to their affairs, with the occasional annoyed look. An employee who looked on the verge of tears themselves was rushing by when Roxy caught their arm. She bounced Mary like someone trying to soothe a baby. “I’m so sorry! I know you’re busy but I ordered ahead a few days ago and they told me I could just pick it up without a line. I just don’t want to keep this one out much longer. She’s so cranky and I think she’s getting an ear infection. Please. Please.” The employee looked sympathetic, and took a long look at the printed receipt Roxy was holding. “I’ll see what I can do Mrs. Carlisle.” Roxy smiled dazzlingly “Thank you so much, god bless you!” A moment later another employee arrived at her side “They’re boxing up your order, please take a seat, have some hot chocolate.” Roxy sat herself down on a nearby bench, still holding a believably sniffling Mary in her lap. She parked the stroller somewhat obnoxiously to discourage people from sitting near them. However Mary’s display had attracted more attention than anticipated and an attractive man sat down silently next to them. “I hope the two of you aren’t up to any trouble.” Came a smooth voice. Roxy turned quickly and found herself face to face with Bruce Wayne. Huh. Last time she’d seen him she’d been pointing a steak knife at him at some “Gotham Revitalization Gala” ranting drunkenly about gentrification as Mary had set the suit of some tv executive on fire. Not their best night to be honest. They’d both been up too long. Firmly on the side of manic and sleep deprived. Urging her brain to reboot she fired up her smile again. “Well if it isn’t Bruce Wayne himself! Surely someone as rich as you has someone to handle this kinda chaos for him.” He stared at her with a near disturbing intensity for a split second before firing up his own billion dollar smile. “I do, but this is kind of a special present for my son and I’m meticulous about the details. I have to ask again Miss Sutton. What brings you here?” Mary muttered something bitterly from her lap that sounded like “Which son?” But Roxy paid her no mind and plowed on. “Just picking up a Christmas order. No trouble, I promise. Payed for everything.” With money that had been 100% stolen at some prior date, but it was the attempt at legality that counted. She handed him the printed receipt. He studied it briefly, before pressing it gently into her hands. “I’m glad to hear that Miss Sutton...Miss Dahl.” He shot Mary a charming smile. Mary rolled her eyes. Roxy continued to pour on the charm as well , the last thing she needed was pretty boy Wayne ruining her day by calling the police. “I didn’t know you were so tech savvy Brucie, if you’re not too busy you should come over to my place and help me set up some of this stuff, I promise to keep you warm.” She winked, barely holding back a gag at the suggestion that she needed help. Bruce just chuckled, patting Roxy’s hand as he stood up to leave. “I’m more than sure you’ve got it handled Roxanne, after all you insisted you could ‘retrofit the entire South Gotham power grid for way less than whatever these capitalist blood money vampires were going to bleed from the city’” Damn. Had she said that? Well it was probably true. “You two ladies behave yourselves and have a merry Christmas.” He gave his own wink, disappearing effortlessly into the crowd. Roxy heaved a huge sigh of relief. “He’s pretty, but if he’d tried anything I’d have sent him face first through the window.” After that little holiday scare two employees informed Roxy her order was ready and helped her load it into the car, where the tree still sat firmly bound to the roof. Tipping each of them a crisp hundred dollar bill, she thanked them and loaded Mary back into the car. Roxy’s cheer shot straight back up to 11 after that was all said and done. 🎶The dreams go, and stay below. Cattle call, and the old dark sew. I respect that Santa left, to save his kids from the winter cold. Would you like to stay a while and dance with me?🎶 Peeling out of the parking garage Roxy hurried to her next and final errand, thankfully the gourmet grocer had curbside pickup, even if it did take near an hour to get her order. She spent the whole time trying in vain to get Mary not to make as much mess as she could in the back seat with her lunch. “You are like an actual baby, a baby made of spite.” She was pretty sure there was a soup of cat food and ginger beer sinking into the carpet of her second favorite car. She could hear the sound of cat claws going in and out of the leather seats and almost held back tears of her own. With the back and top of the car all loaded down, Roxy finally, finally turned the car back towards her apartment. The Thrill Seeker was on a pretty sketchy block, Roxy’s building the only one with Christmas lights on the outside, she caught one of her neighbors, a mob doctor and his daughter closing up shop for the day. “Merry Christmas Dr. Chang, Elizabeth!” She called from the alley between their buildings. They both gave her hurried waves, rushing to get home before the ice on the roads reformed. The side door that led up to Roxy’s apartment was adorned with a twinkling wreath, the inner hall and stairway let out a gust of warm nutmeg scented air. Roxy kinda regretted not hiring anyone to help her haul the stuff in, but no worries that’s what the freight elevator was for. Not that the thing was big enough for freight. Leaving Mary in the car while she unloaded afforded her some peace and quiet in the bracing evening air as she took a few trips up. Finally going back for Mary and her unfortunate +1 she dragged her tired body up the stairs. Mary seemed to have exhausted her fussing and was resigned to spending the next few days in the winter wonderland that had previously been Roxy’s spotless apartment. Roxy set about lighting the fireplace and anchoring the tree into its base, fluffing out the thick pine needles. She pushed a box of ornaments and lights in Mary’s direction, hurrying around the kitchen where there was a series of banging and beeping and one quick woosh of a flame. Done in the kitchen Roxy started in on her boxes from the electronics store a huge new TV and sound system, among other things. She lifted it into the prepared mount while Mary half heartedly held a string of lights in her hands. Roxy was quick with a screwdriver and had the tv up in under 15 minuets. She fussed around some more before deciding everything was how she wanted it and rushed back into the kitchen. Mary’s cat, who’s name Roxy refused to speak had found the bed and heating pad Roxy had set up and settled down to sleep. Finally Roxy heaved another sigh. Kicking off her boots by the door and peeling off her winter layers she disappeared down the hall, reappearing moments later in a pair of leggings patterned with fat reindeer and an oversized sweater. Making her way over to Mary she took the string of lights from her hands and began wrapping it around the tree. “Isn’t this nice Mar? Isn’t everything perfect?” Mary instead of replying, huffed a sigh of her own and started placing ornaments of the parts of the tree she could reach, meticulously placing them as if it were the most important thing in the world. It was less likely she cared about the tree and was more desperate to avoid engaging in any kind of genuine emotion with Roxy. They worked in amenable silence for long minutes, like when they were working on a really good plan, or sitting in a holding cell after that plan fell apart. When they were done Roxy topped the tree with a ridiculously sparkly rocket humming happily again. “Isn’t this nice?” She repeated softly, quickly turning away to go back into the kitchen. When she’d returned with a tray loaded down with snacks and two steaming mugs Mary had found her way into the pile of cushions and blankets Roxy had started keeping so Mary would stop dismantling her couch, she’d also found the remote for Roxy’s new tv and was quickly scrolling through a list of movies. Next to her was a ball of white fur almost indistinguishable from the white fluff of the bed purring loudly. As Roxy settled down, dropping a quick splash of whiskey into each of their mugs the opening notes of White Christmas played clearly through the equally as new and expensive sound system. Warm and cozy, surrounded by sweet smells and twinkling lights Roxy let out a final sigh of contentment. It was nice.

"Never have I ever - Tony why are you undressing?!"

Let me start by stressing that this absolutely happens at one point - or multiple points - in the NHIE ‘verse. There are so many possibilities, but I’m going with my fave smol, soft Tony today because everyone deserves smol, soft Tony when they’re having a bad day. Aka my excuse to write some shameless, Tony-loving fluff.

See, this time, when the Avengers are playing, Tony only slips–well, stumbles–in half-way through the first bottle. He’s wearing lose sweatpants and a t-shirt a couple of sizes too big that he’s probably nicked from Steve. His feet are bare. His hair is a fluffy mess that curls stubbornly into whatever direction it damn well wants, and there’s smudges of grease on his cheek and forehead. 

The rest of the team welcome him with smiles and gentle teasing, and it doesn’t take more than an inviting pat from Clint on the free spot to his left for Tony to curl up by his side. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s smiling softly and everyone else is still busy making jokes at Thor’s expense to notice anyways. Bruce gently nudges a glass into Tony’s lax hand, which he takes reflexively, head resting heavily on Clint’s shoulder. He’s half asleep by the time the game moves on and Clint’s excited jeering jerks him awake again.

The thing is, Tony hasn’t slept in twenty-some hours, which isn’t his record but still pretty damn long and he isn’t getting any younger either. The world around him is loud–a good loud though, not a bad loud, no screams, that’s important–and blurry, and even though it’s getting harder and harder to focus, to follow what the people around him are saying, Tony feels safe. He relaxes into the stable warmth by his side and just sorta drifts, until someone–it takes him a couple of seconds to recognise that damn elbow as Clint’s–nudges him into his side, and alright, he’s supposed to pay attention. So Tony tries to sit up a little, even though his body feels too heavy, and forces his eyes open. Blinks again and again, to keep them that way.

Someone’s saying something, and though the meaning of the words escape him, there’s this expectant silence, a single voice being the only exception. Is he supposed to do something? Tony can’t remember, the cues just slip right out under him. His eyes fall shut again, but he can’t, can’t go now, what if it’s something important? What do they want? What is- Oh. Right.

Tony fumbles with his clothes for a moment. He feels a little silly for taking so long, but finally he gets the stupid–but soft, so, so soft–t-shirt up and pulls it over his head, only for it to remain stuck there. He tries to pull again, overbalances and tumbles to the side, where he lies still for a long moment, trying and failing to figure out what just happened and what he’s supposed to do about it. The light is a little less bright though, which is nice.

Then there are hands on Tony’s shoulders, pulling him up into a sitting position. He curls away from those hands weakly, doesn’t like to be manhandled, especially when he can’t see–and then the fabric is gently tucked down again and it’s a lot brighter than he remembers it being.

Someone is talking to him now. No, not someone. Steve. Tony smiles, body sagging in relief. Steve is there. It’s all fine. Steve will make sure of it.

There’s a hand on his chin, tilting it upwards. Tony whines in protest, glares blearily at worried, blue eyes. “Tony, what are you doing? Are you alright?” The words only just penetrate the thick fog in his mind. Tony puzzles over them for a long moment, before.

“T’red,” he slurs. 

Someone’s holding his eyes open. It’s not nice. Tony tries to turn his head away but they won’t let him. 

“His pupils are normal, I don’t think he’s been drugged,” someone else–Brucie bear?– says, the words flying far above Tony’s head, circling in the clouds prettily. “JARVIS, when was the last time he slept?”

Tony slips, loses track for an undetermined while. Remembers. Blinks his eyes open again. Pats down his chest curiously. Frowns. “No’ strip?” he asks, tries to ask, his tongue not fully cooperating.

Steve laughs. Tony likes his laugh. He doesn’t like the way his bed is shaking quite as much. Wait, no. Not his bed. Clint? Is Clint his bed? Did he name his bed?

“No, Tony, no stripping,” someone tells him, and though the words aren’t fully processed, he likes how gentle and warm they sound. “That’s the wrong game, buddy.”

Someone’s carding a hand through his hair and it feels so nice. Tony melts into the caress, sighs happily.

“Go to sleep, Tony. We’ll take care of you,” someone says. But Tony is already gone.

March AU Madness 06

Had my first day of work today! Had a couple of prompts lined up, but I’m doing them out of order because this one was shorter. Expect a companion piece, in which the character’s roles are flipped because I really like this pairing in this AU.

Vague sexual content, given the theme of the AU, but there’s not really any action.

sex shop au (x)

Despite what he had assumed when starting this business, Tony’s shop did not see many attractive customers. Not to be mistaken, they were all beautiful in their own way and he was happy his “more creative” inventions were improving their lives, but they weren’t exactly his type.

Though, if Tony’s being honest, curly brown hair and glasses usually wasn’t his type.

“Can I assist you with anything, sir?” Tony leans half his body over the counter, making a very obvious show of looking up and down the man.

The subtext clearly isn’t lost as the man’s cheeks turn pink. “I-I heard you made these things?”

“Oh not all of them,” Tony struts out, running a hand over the new stock of leather lined paddles, “Only the best ones though. Interested in a vibrator? I can’t imagine a man like yourself needing an imitation cock when you could have whatever real one you wanted.”

The man sputters but nods. Tony leads him to proper aisle. It was a slow afternoon anyway; he had time to flirt with a customer.

“Didn’t catch your name, handsome.” Tony holds out a hand, “I’m Tony Stark, sexual inventor and shop owner extraordinaire.”

“Bruce. I’ve heard of you.” His handshake is firm and Tony desperately wants to know that grip more intimately. “I teach at the college down the street.”

“Good, so you’ll appreciate when I tell you all my toys are body safe, each design tried and tested on yours truly so you know they’re good. For a professor, I imagine you’d need quiet, efficient, and maybe something visually appealing.”

“Uh, yes.” Bruce seems surprised Tony can read him so well and Tony has to hold back a laugh. He’s a sexpert, he’s always good at reading people’s needs.

“How do you like this one?” The green tint of the Nymph™ happens to match Brucie’s eyes, what a treat. “A little pricey, but I have a 100% satisfaction guarantee.”

The shop bell rings and the professor glances around like he’s on the run. Tony can understand, a lot of college students shop here and it’s best not to mix business and pleasure. Unless you own a sex shop, of course.

“Sure, um, I’ll take it.” They make their way back to the counter and Tony rings him up.

“Have a pleasurable day!”

Bruce scurries out of the shop, walking the few blocks back to his apartment on the campus. It’s only once he’s home that he sees the phone number scrawled in sharpie on the back of the box. Call me if you have difficulties with it. Technical, sexual, or otherwise. Maybe, Bruce considers, after he’s done grading midterms. In the meantime, the Nymph is exactly the stress relief he intended to purchase. Looks like he’ll be calling for the second reason.