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probably-eating-poptarts · 4 years

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New Blood | Chapter 2

Tensions rise and plans are made

Universe: Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt x OC

Word count: 1,980

| Chapter 1 |

A/N: This chapter was honestly so hard to write considering the fact that, like… nothing interesting happens 😂 But I felt it ended where it needed to end, and I have ideas already set for where I want this story to go, so stay tuned! (@tentacles-and-coffee, would you like sum tag? 👀)

Chapter song: Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival

✧༝┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉༝✧

That night was chaos at the Hewitt house.

“What the hell were you thinkin’, Ma? That bitch should be on Tommy’s choppin’ block, not off runnin’ your damn errands!”

“Now Charlie, you oughta know by now we can’t just kill off every single person that comes through; someone’s gonna catch on eventually–”

“It’s Hoyt, goddammit! Hoyt!”

A bony, long-fingered fist slammed into the worn butcher block table with enough force to topple one of the cloudy old mason jars spaced around at each place setting, and spittle flew from pooched, cracked lips. Luda Mae threw her hands up in exasperation before stomping into the kitchen, fed up with her son’s tantrums.

She returned a moment later, setting down a casserole dish fresh out of the stove. “That was a good girl, I just know it. She was just passin’ through and there wasn’t no reason at all to do away with her! Besides, her granddaddy is old John Elwood and you know he and his kin would come snoopin’ around if she up and disappeared!”

Hoyt spat carelessly onto the scuffed hardwood and curled his lip in a mockery of a smile. “You just jealous, Mama?” he wheedled. “Sad that you ain’t had no little bitch to gussy up, huh? Is that it?”

“That’s enough, now!” She snapped, her tone booking no room for further argument. “You won’t lay a single finger on that girl if I have anything to say about it, so just hush up and eat your supper.”

The old woman sat herself in her chair with a sense of finality, staring down her eldest child as if daring him to open his mouth again. Luda Mae had given her boy a lot of slack after his return from the war, and she loved him dearly despite the attitude he liked to give her these days, but at some point a mother just has to put her foot down.

The two locked eyes for several tense moments before Hoyt sucked sourly at his teeth and called over his shoulder, “C’mon in here, Tommy, and let’s eat.”

From the shadows of the hallway a looming shape moved; dim light from the dining room spilling over the burly, hulking form of the youngest Hewitt as he ducked under the doorway to enter the room. He had been patiently awaiting his adopted brother’s permission to join the rest of the family as always, but he found his thoughts distracted from his meal tonight with the topic of their discussion. Who was this girl, and why was Mama so taken up with her? Would she just end up like everyone else who found themselves on the receiving end of the infamous Hewitt hospitality?

He could tell that Mama was none at all happy with that prospect, and he found himself struggling with the uncomfortable possibility of having to choose between the wishes of his mother and the demands of his sibling. Cross as he could be sometimes, Charlie (Hoyt, Tommy reminded himself) had always been the one to give Thomas direction in his days following the collapse of the slaughterhouse; who to kill, who to detain, who to hobble for his… ‘personal enjoyment’.

But if his brother commanded him to kill this stranger, and then Mama told him not to… What would he do?

Shaking off the unanswerable conundrum for now, Thomas tucked into his meal with his usual gusto and decided he would just cross that bridge if or when he ever came to it. For now, supper was hot and the evening was still young yet…

“Thanks again, Bobby. I’ll tell Opa you said hello!”

Addie waved farewell to the bearded man and folded the small stack of paperwork he’d just finished filling out neatly as she made her way back towards her truck and now-empty trailer, hauling herself into the driver’s seat before cranking the engine and pulling out of the livestock pavilion.

Just a ways down the road - right where Luda Mae said it would be - a tiny little tea shop sat tucked away on the downtown strip between a record store and a newly refurbished post office. Addie had to drive almost half a mile more to find parking that accommodated the size of her rig, but she enjoyed the walk nonetheless as she made her way back past quaint storefronts and other folks out for a morning stroll.

The shop itself was cozy, if not slightly disorganized on the inside, but the rather eccentric older woman behind the desk knew exactly where everything was when Addie explained what she was after. When she finally left the store nearly a half hour later - the small silver bells above the door tinkling a merry goodbye over her head - she had two boxes of green tea and a little novelty tea strainer she’d been… somewhat coerced into buying all tucked away in a little paper bag under her arm.

From there it was just one quick stop by Luda Mae’s place, and then she’d be on her way home. The trek out always took much longer since she made extra stops at other farms to pick up livestock, but if she played her cards right, she’d probably make it back to Elwood Dairy by suppertime.

Someone at the pavilion had even managed to fix her radio, so with the windows cranked down and CCR blasting over the speakers, it was only just before noon when she found the little turnoff and rolled into the diner’s parking lot.

Roiling thunderclouds were gathering as Addie made her way across the asphalt towards the rickety front steps, and she paused for just a moment to study the looming darkness reaching out across the restless treetops in the distance.

“Looks like we’ll be in for a pretty nasty summer storm,” came Luda Mae’s voice from just behind the porch door. She pushed the screen open with her elbow and waved Addie inside, ushering her towards one of the antique tables where a porcelain teapot and mismatched teacups sat waiting.

The two women chatted amicably for a while as the tea Addie had acquired steeped; watching the broiling noon sun slowly and mercifully fade away beneath the creeping shadows of the oncoming storm cell.

“So do you stay with Old John up there at the dairy?” Luda inquired.

“Yes ma’am,” Addie replied, “Ever since I was a kid.”

“What about your folks? Do y’all all live on the property together?”

The younger girl pursed her lips and looked down into her cup, swirling the dark contents within.

“M’not really sure where my biological father is,” she finally confessed. “And my mom signed over custody to my grandparents when I was about six, so I’ve been with them almost my whole life. She comes around now and again, but we don’t really see her all that often.”

Her shoulders lifted and fell in a quick, nonchalant shrug. “Besides, growing up on the farm was really nice; and with Oma being sick lately, I came back from college to help out more.”

Luda Mae perked up. Sweet, well-spoken, and educated? “What were you schoolin’ for, then?”

“Well I finished my degree a couple years ago, actually.” The hint of pride in her tone was hard to hide. “I was really just taking extra courses during the fall before I left campus.”

Before she could elaborate the screen flew open with a sharp thwack, accompanied by a growling roll of thunder. Well-worn snakeskin boots thumped heavily against the dusty hardwood floor, announcing the arrival of the scowling sheriff Addie had seen briefly during her previous visit.

“Mama,” he nodded in greeting to the older woman, his sharp, beady gaze boring into Addie so coarsely that an instinctive shiver of apprehension tumbled down her spine.

“Hoyt! Come on in, honey; let me get you something to drink and introduce you to Miss Adeline Elwood, old John’s grandbaby.” As she spoke, Luda Mae tottered up from the table and pulled out a glass coke bottle from the old cooler by the register, popping the cap off on the attached bottle jack before passing it to her son.

The seemingly permanent frown he sported turned a fraction more sour, just for a moment, before breaking into a fractured grin - as if he had forgotten the art of smiling properly. “Pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.”

Both Hewitts joined Addie at the table, chair legs scraping as bodies settled into comfortable positions.

“So you mean to tell me ain’t nobody out here drivin’ that rig of yours?” Hoyt asked her with an air of haughty surprise. “We ain’t used to seein’ decent womenfolk around these parts all by themselves, y’know.”

Addie hid her clenched teeth behind a sociable smile. “Yep, it’s just me. Been hauling cattle by myself for a few years now since my Opa is staying home more often.”

The sheriff whistled low and reclined comfortably against the back of his chair. “Yeah, word spread fast when miz Rosie got sick. How’s she been holding up these days, hm?”

“About as well as can be expected,” Addie replied with a cock of her left shoulder. “We’re all just taking things one day at a time.”

He nodded sagely and took a swig of his drink, still watching her every move like a hawk zeroing in on an unsuspecting mouse.

“Now, you never got around to tellin’ me what you were upstate studying,” Luda Mae interjected with a gentle pat on the younger woman’s arm. “Such a bright young thing, aren’t ya dear?”

Clearing her throat, Addie fiddled with the excess of her ponytail before taking a brief sip of tea long since gone tepid. The wiry old coot was starting to make her rather tense. “I got my degree in animal science over at TAMU two years ago, and I’d been taking some agricultural classes right before I came back home to help around the farm.”

“Sciences, huh?” Hoyt sucked on the dip between his teeth. “Awful high aspirations for such, ah… lovely young lady such as yerself, dontcha think?”

Addie leveled him with a rather icy stare.

“Well that may be so, but since veterinary options tend to be rather limited around these parts, I figured I may as well learn how to do it myself.” She hit him then with her coyest, most femininely charming smile. “Sometimes a lady’s gotta help herself if there’s no man around to do it for her.”

With a sly wink to seal the deal, she pushed off from the table and tipped her head to both Hewitts in turn. “The tea was lovely Miss Mae, but I really ought to be headed on home, now.”

“Oh please, sweetheart, don’t go botherin’ with all that ‘Miss’ stuff.” The older woman began to gather their empty china. “Luda Mae will do just fine now.”

Nodding her understanding, Addie swapped final goodbyes and stepped back into the oppressive Texas heat, barely deterred by the flagging breeze pulling the surging storm cell ever closer.

“You drive careful now, y’hear?” Luda Mae called from beyond the screen. Hoyt stood at her shoulder - an ominous figure looming within his mother’s shadow - and he crooked his fingers at her in a little wave as he smiled that rusted out grin around the wad of tobacco always present within the rotting crease of his lips.

Ingrained southern manners had the young woman returning that broken-doll gesture with the barest tilt of her head in acknowledgment, and she clambered quickly into the confines of her truck cab where she felt a modicum of safety behind thick glass and sturdy American steel. She wasn’t going to outrun this beast of a downpour, but she was ready to get as much of a headstart as she could.

Things were looking to get nasty very quickly.

#the texas chainsaw massacre #TCM #Tommy Hewitt x OC #uh ohhh #that's what we call FORESHADOWING ppl #dun dun duuuuun #also i'm BACK #bay-BEE #Thomas Hewitt #New Blood #NB TCM

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elizabeth-234 · 4 years

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The Supplejack

Summary of the story: Peter Parker has been alone his whole freshman year but finds hope when Stark Industries announces a science competition. The prize? An internship with Tony Stark.

Hi all. Thank you for being patient on this one. I haven't been at my best recently and writing has taken the brunt of that. In saying that I hope you all doing well and enjoy this one.

I'm also working on my other story "A Night She won't Soon Forget" and that should be posted sometime next week!

Previous Chapter Fifteen: He Returns

Chapter Sixteen: Civil War

Peter reclined back onto the towel. Sand moved under his body to accommodate the shifting in weight as he changed positions. He closed his eyes and listened to the people talking over the waves lapping at the shore. More sand underneath his head siphoned down creating a gritty pillow for his head.

He exhaled.

Flash and Julia were talking to his side. Their soft tones were loud enough to guess Flash had done something irritating and Julia was, in her way, telling him off. He couldn’t hear their specific words but he smirked at a cry of dismay from his friend over something Julia said. Their laughter washed over him along with the general sounds of a beach. It was good to have them close.

He smiled.

They were upstate for the weekend at one of Frank’s mom’s cottages. The home, bigger than any house let alone cottage had the right to be, was hidden away in the Finger Lake Region. It was beautiful country surrounded by hills and vast trees, all miles from the city. Peter couldn’t tear his gaze away from the farms and forests they passed to get to their little oasis. He didn’t ask for specifics when Frank invited them and sitting on the beach with everyone he was glad he didn’t let himself turn down the offer. It was nice to just be for a moment.

Their whole team came out plus Flash, Estee, and Ned in celebration of their runner-up status for the conference. He hadn’t thought there was anything to celebrate but his team had been overjoyed at the announcement. The group chat overflowing with all sorts of ecstatic messages and memes.

The celebration had to be put on hold because of the fast approaching end of school. Finals took over their thoughts for the time and everything else was waylaid. Frank and Monica were graduating so their schedules were filled along with the addition of making sure they were ready for the fall. He and Julia tried to help as best as they could but school bogged down their own schedules as well.

Peter expected everyone to separate in a natural way with all of these factors and was dismayed, as well as pleased, the group chat never extinguished. There wasn’t a day where someone didn’t text something, whether it was Frank talking about one of his games or Julia making sure they were all doing okay for the week. Those small connections were enough to get him through finals and not thinking about what happened.

Summer arrived with the abruptness of the last ring of school bell and finish of finals. One minute the world was on your shoulders and the next it didn’t matter how long you went without sleep to study for the history final. The average was a 59 percent and Peter scraped by with a 65. At least he’d aced all his other finals. Those acted as a buffer when May asked him about the results.

The hot season had been… different than what he was used to. There wasn’t any other way he could describe it. Instead of the long walks alone, waiting for May to get home from work by reading or working ahead on homework for the upcoming year Peter was familiar with, this year Peter had friends. And they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The whole group of them stuck together as much as they could even after the presentation. Julia met him at the library more times than he could count. Although she didn’t have homework the two of them, and sometimes Flash accompanying her, would read there. More often than not they would then go no a fieldtrip around the city, finding new spots and ice-cream places they had all never been before. Sometimes Frank and Monica would join them on their escapades.

It was glorious.

And it was exhausting.

He hoped they wouldn’t change when fall was ushered in with the start of school and life began again.

Only two more weeks until the date back.

Logically, he knew it wouldn’t be the same but the thought of starting out his sophomore year the same way his freshman year began was unbearable. It had to be different. He suspected, good or bad, that nothing would quite be the same again. But he was also different.

Peter thought about everything that happened – everything he went through – and realized how much had changed. It was a chilling reflection. The depths of evolution he went through in the past year alone. He’d been lost in the sea of grief as school began and it wasn’t until a white flag, in this case a piece of paper hanging outside of the office, waved that something shifted. Of course, he was resistant to it and avoided the signup sheet simultaneously afraid and yearning for what signing his name could bring.

From there it all tumbled accumulating into even greater changes than Peter ever dreamt possible. Ned was steadfast in his offer of friendship. Cafeteria lunches became commonplace when Peter didn’t feel comfortable before. He’d even begun to enter into the debates Mike held at the table earning approving glances from Midge and Jaimik.

In the midst of all this Peter won the internship. Him. Peter Parker. The freak no one liked. The one who felt best in a safe place instead of in the bustling halls of school was interning at Stark Industries with some of the smartest people he’d ever met.

He remembered wishing he could be like the people who walked into the building like it was any other day; not stopping to stare at the intricate planes and panels leading up to the clouds. While Peter often ran late and didn’t have time to stop and stare, he found the building had become a safe place to him. His seat by the window was always empty and waiting for him and besides it was a cabinet full of snacks Julia would share. Lab five and its occupant were beginning to be as familiar and his talks with Friday never failed to make his day.

Thinking of lab five made his chest tighten. Something he always felt when Mr. Stark was mentioned somehow. He wondered what would have happened if everything had gone differently.

If Peter explained.

If he’d stood up for himself and made Mr. Stark listen.

What would Ben have said about it all? How would he react to his nephew forgetting to his speech about courage and shyness? In actuality, Peter had no doubt Ben would’ve stormed into Stark Tower and gave Mr. Stark a piece of his mind. Ben’s approach would be direct and the results would be swift, he was sure of that much. But that was something Peter couldn’t do.

He respected Mr. Stark too much to try and push himself into the man’s life. There was a list of things left unsaid but maybe it was for the best. At least now the man attributed the faults to something Peter did instead of who Peter was. He wasn’t sure if he could handle another rejection of himself again. Especially not from Mr. Stark.

Peter shook his head on the towel and ignored the sounds around him as long as he could.

All of these incited the changes in himself. He was still Peter but at the same time he was something more. He had friends and family. People he could contemplate opening up to. Topics he was passionate about. A job doing something he excelled at. They all were apart of him now when a year ago he could never have dreamed of any of it. And he felt so lucky to be able to think that; to be laying there on the beach as his friends surrounded him.

And that was that.

Julia squealed and began laughing. She stood up in a hurry, spraying sand onto her towel and Peter’s face. He sat up, covering his face with his hands to block the sun while trying to spit out the offending grit in his mouth.

“What was that?” He found Julia soaking and Flash holding a bottle full of liquid.

“You stand back, Flash” She yelled. He smiled and progressed further toward her. Peter scrambled onto his feet at the deranged grin Flash sent him. Julia’s hands were up to provide a barrier in front of her. Her head moved back and forth between the two of them.

“Oh, no you don’t. Peter, I’m warning you.” He stepped toward her. “Flash, you’ve corrupted him!”

Flash moved forward after a nod from Peter. Julia darted backward but Peter blocked her exit. Flash raised the bottle again and flipped it over but Julia was too fast. The water ended up dripping into his hair and down his face. At least the sand from before was washed away.

His bangs flattened onto his forehead and he coughed to get the liquid out. Flash and Julia’s laughter ignited further at the sour face he was making. Her arm was over Flash’s shoulder and the two huddled together as he wiped the hair from his eyes.

“So funny.” He frowned when they continued to laugh. Their eyes crinkled and he couldn’t help but smile in response. Peter stepped toward them and shook his head. Water sprayed over the two, provoking protests. They followed him as he ran to the dock, dodging their attempts to throw the last of the water on him.

Frank stepped out of the house and onto the porch. His yells of encouragement were followed by the sounds of his steps as he ran toward them.

“Yeah, fight it out!”

The planks of the dock shook under each step forward. They all backed up, not wanting to get in the way until they realized they were stuck between the dock and water with nowhere to go.

“No!” They yelled united under a common enemy fast approaching. Frank continued to yell. His eyes bulged out and Peter could almost imagine his tongue leaving his mouth and dangling over the side of his face. At the last moment he extended his arms out on either side of his body and jumping forward. He dragged the three of them up and over the water until they crashed into the waves.

Peter swam back to the beach. Sand squished through his toes as water pooled in his bathing suit before dripping down his legs. He stood at the precipice of the water watching as the tide moved back and forth, over and away from his feet. In the corner of his vision he could spy Frank pushing Julia into the water again at the edge of the dock. Her raised voice filled with mirth so at odds with her normal quiet tones. It seemed everyone was able to let loose on their weekend trip.

He turned his back on the shore and made his way to his towel. Monica and Estee had arrived while they were swimming. They smiled as he approached.

“Cold?” She asked snickering at the shivers running down his arms. Peter nodded and sat down careful to keep his sand encrusted feet off the towel. He watched the others continue to swim around. Their laughter punctuated the splashes as they jumped off the dock.

Monica moved over and sat next to him. Her head rested on top of her knees tucked against her chest.

“Peter?” She said in a quiet tone. “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or when a good time to talk would be but I wanted you to know I’m really proud of our team. I could tell you thought we blamed you for the place we got but the thought never crossed my mind. You know?”

Peter swallowed and turned to face her. She stared straight at the lake but there was an openness in her face.

“I didn’t…” He cleared his throat. “How did you know?”

This time she did look over at him with a soft smile. There wasn’t an ounce of blame there. Peter shifted on the towel.

“I think I know you by now Peter. Plus, I would’ve felt the same if I was… you know.”  

The tightness knotted in his chest in response and he did his best not to remember Mr. Stark’s parting words. Instead he focused on his teammate. It was her senior year and college was around the corner for her. He wondered what she would do now that both of her internships were done and her life was just beginning. She was sure of what she wanted that there was no doubt she would do something great. There was no reason for her to lie because he knew she would have no trouble saying her mind. Peter looked over and was grateful now for that straightforwardness. It let him accept her words and feel the knot loosen.

“Thank you.” He said.

She leaned over and put a hand around his shoulder, drawing them together.

The sun was setting behind a row of trees on the other side of the lake. Clouds lingered in the sky creating specks of purple and black overlaid on the fire palate in the sky. Frank, Flash, and Julia finally crawled out of the water and onto the shore all shivering and prune-skinned from the water. They plopped down on the towels and started digging into their bags to grab the snacks they brought down from the cottage.

Peter accepted a handful of grapes. Everyone laughed and talked as they dried off. Two more weeks until school and in that moment, Peter would’ve given everything to stay on that lake; somewhere in upstate New York with his friends.

“How’s the Yaesu doing?” Barry asked from his spot in the doorway.

Peter looked up from behind a pair of magnifying goggles. Barry’s features were distorted under the pair of goggles but he smiled at the way Peter was almost bouncing off the seat as he nodded.

“I think it’s done.” He said.

Barry entered the room and Peter shoved everything over to the side of the desk so he could move the radio over to where his boss was standing. Barry whistled as he inspected the new parts all secured in their right place. He tinkered around with a few of the disks but then stepped back.

“This is great, Peter. I’m glad you talked me into those extra hours, though your old manager is missing out on one good barista. She’s a beauty. With your finishing of that I think you deserve the rest of the day off.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest; to say he needed the distraction, but Barry was already waving him off.

“No worries. You’ve been working so much and I know you want some time before school. I’ve got the shop covered here.” 

At least he was kicking Peter out in the nicest way possible but he wasn’t sure what he would do now. Frank and Monica had moved into their dorms the weekend before. Frank was out of state on a football scholarship. The pictures they sent of their cramped rooms did not inspire excitement about Peter’s own future prospects. Their small updates while sporadic allowed everyone in their team to stay connected.

Flash and Julia were doing something together which had surprised Peter but everyone else didn’t share his reaction. Monica said he should have seen it coming and on reflection Peter realized they had spent a large amount of time together at the cottage. He thought it was cute they were friends. Julia brought a sort of calm to Flash whose energy otherwise had too many directions to go to. Under the other’s influence Peter noticed the focused energy in Flash and a rise in confidence in Julia.

Ned was Ned. The boy texted Peter if he wanted to hang out today citing movies they could watch but with this unexpected freedom so early in the day Peter just wanted to spend time by himself.

There was nothing wrong with that, he reassured himself and ignore the guilty feeling of not texting his friend back. Spending time with yourself was important. Balance was key and while their upstate vacation was fun he returned home tired. After all he thought of by the lake, all the changes he’d undergone, he wasn’t a completely new person. He was still Peter Parker and sometimes he needed to be with himself.

Peter went into the back to grab his stuff. He spotted Barry on his way to the door in the front. The man was leaning against the counter, arms crossed on the glass case with his eyes trained on the small TV set up by the register. One red Converse rested on the other.

“Barry?” Peter spoke trying to gain the attention of his boss but the man didn’t respond. He said his name again with the same lack of response. The news murmured in the back and Peter walked around the counter, curious to see what was monopolizing his boss’s attention.

The camera was shaking. Blurry images focused and unfocused on the screen amidst dirt and chaos thrown into the air. The trembling stopped; the camera focused and everything seemed to pause.

Peter’s breath lodged, trapped and turning stagnant, in his chest. The camera was stationary but what it captured was made all the more violent by this unnatural stop in motion. The outside world was silent, trapped in the spell the recorded world wove spinning regardless of its effects in brash action. Metal screamed on impact. Dust and debris streamed across the sky and Peter’s eyes tried to follow every movement in anticipation.

The first thing his eyes zoomed in on was the blue suit. Hadn’t he seen it on the TV only a month ago with that stranger? Captain America stood center screen, facing away and gesturing wide to someone he couldn’t see. His back tensed. Muscles rippled under the taught fabric facing them. His dropped for a moment. The helmet with dipped out of sight before his back straightened again. His shoulders square and spine tall. Then he brought his arm up and lunged forward.

Something hit the ground.

Red and gold caught his eye.

Peter gripped the edge of the counter as blue hit the red suit, sending the cement cracking under the pressure. Why was he? How could Captain America attack… his fellow Avenger? His friend?

His knees threatened to buckle as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

Captain America and Iron Man. In battle.

Beyond those two frontal figures other superheroes were fighting. Using their powers against each other. Not against a villain or some common enemy. No, they were fighting amongst themselves.

Captain America stood above Iron Man. His feet near the man’s head. Cement cracked in a grotesque halo around his head. The building behind them was on fire.

In the back of his mind Peter wondered how this was being recorded and broadcasted onto the TV. All those thoughts were stripped away when Mr. Stark, no, Iron Man, launched off the ground, toward the other man.

Their fight began in earnest. There were no more pauses, nothing to say there was any hesitancy left in either figure. The colors clashed on screen and a restless itching invaded his muscles and into his blood cells. He needed to do something. To run or distract or… something. But he didn’t know where to go or what to do. Would he be welcomed? The most sickening prospect is he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything either way. Not in comparison to all of the special people already there.

Still, despite reaffirming these thoughts there remained the urge to run there and help Mr. Stark in any way he could.

Regardless of not being wanted or needed.

“Look at that there. Who would have thought good old Captain America would engage like that?”  

Peter focused on the screen again. Cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck at the realization they were at a different location than before. The walls were dark and condensed the vision of the cameras making him feel claustrophobic.

Iron Man was standing apart from a figure shrouded in the shadows. The famous shield, the one Peter dreamed of holding as a child, was cast to the side. Scratches marred the star on the front. Captain America stepped out from his place by the wall with a frown. He said something as he looked Iron Man up and down. A faint, pleading look replaced his otherwise dour expression.

Punches were thrown and explosives detonated in the cramped quarters so quickly it was difficult to keep track of everything. Peter lost sight of Iron Man for a moment and his heart clenched until the faint glow of the arc reactor appeared from inside the dust cloud.

Peter couldn’t think of him as Mr. Stark in that suit. His name refused to surface in Peter’s mind with all the metal incasing him, protecting him. It created this distance and it would hurt too much to think of that as Mr. Stark fighting.

The shield was in his hands.

Everything was in slow motion. The itching grew and Peter needed to run, to scream, to stop it but he was helpless. Captain America brought the shield over his head. His knees were on either side of Iron Man’s chest. The shield came down and slammed, stopped in time by Iron Man’s hands. The shield came up again, higher than the previous time, and it was flying down.

His heart stopped. Iron Man’s hands weren’t enough to stop the energy behind the assault. Captain America stared down. Iron Man gazed upward, pain and a sort of grime acceptance in his eyes.

The shield came down faster than he could follow, the stars and stripes blurred by the motion. The results were confirmed with the denting of the red armor. The arc reactor fractured. Glass cracked and allowed the light to slip through the gaps.

The two men stared at each other. Their broken and torn up armor added unspoken meaning to the betrayed faces they wore. Iron Man’s helmet came off and it was the first time he wasn’t realized to see Mr. Stark’s face. Before that moment there was still a doubt and hope it would’ve been someone else or empty. But no, Mr. Stark gasped for air while his hands clawed against his chest.

Those wide eyes and desperate movements were the last to appear before the TV went black. Peter was frozen. He was stuck in the fraught moment that had ended too soon and not soon enough on screen. The one he knew Mr. Stark was still living.

Barry said something. His eyes searched Peter’s face but he couldn’t look away from the screen now filled with headlines and news anchors. His boss moved around the counter and clapped him on the shoulder with another word Peter missed. He moved to the back of the store leaving Peter alone.

The person on screen was speculating about the possibilities of meaning this could mean for the Avengers and greater world. Their lips hurried through the broadcast but it was obvious they didn’t know what was happening.

One particular sentence caught his attention.

“…and, of course, Tony Stark also under the alias, Iron Man, was on scene. While we don’t know exactly what caused this rift between the group it is clear his motivations and actions are far from scrutiny given past indiscretions…”

His hands clenched at his sides at the smirk on the reporter. The tighter he squeezed the deeper his nails bit into the flesh of his palms. It was just like those people staring in the hallways of the Tower. Their faces all pressed against the glass to catch a glimpse and speculate about their boss. The news was the same. The amount of times Mr. Stark had joked about what they wrote about him was sickening.

Who were they that they had the right to say that? How was that fair?

Peter squeezed his hands harder, pushing his knuckles into the glass on the counter before storming out of the building. He didn’t call out a goodbye to Barry or clock out of work. It didn’t matter.

The wind swept through his hair and a chill descended onto his skin as he walked out. On pilot he steered through the crowds of people without making eye contact. His thoughts were miles away but his feet began the way to his apartment without prompting.

He couldn’t help the tendril of worry curled in his stomach. It nested there and created a pit stuck like an anchor weighing down his body and thoughts. Mr. Stark had to be okay. He was Iron Man after all and the man had faced much worse. He’d always come out ahead every other time.

That was the defining difference though. Mr. Stark had faced worse enemies before but Captain American wasn’t an enemy to Peter’s knowledge. While Mr. Stark didn’t talk about the Avengers often and Peter didn’t want to pry, it was a kind word he spoke when he did. Peter never dreamed there would be discord in the world-famous group. They were the Avengers and to all outward appearances they were colleagues and friends. Everyone’s aimed weapons. The scowls and grimaces. All the fighting in the back. All of it aimed at a teammate.

He thought of Julia, Frank, and Monica and shivered. Would they turn on each other given the chance? Peter shook his head at the wayward nature his thoughts were taking. He had to focus on what was happening now.

Mr. Stark’s eyes and his hands holding onto his chest would be burned into his mind. The image of fissured glass and metal replayed over and over. Peter wasn’t sure if he could remember to breath normally.

The subway ride passed by without notice as his thoughts whirled around in his head. Somehow Peter made it back to his room ensconced in the familiar warmth of his blanket. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped to obliviate everything. For a selfish instant, all he wanted was to forget about the afternoon and all the baggage that came loaded with it. He should’ve helped. It was like there was this voice in the back of his mind that knew in some other universe he would have been strong enough to help in some way. It wasn’t to be. He was here in his apartment under the covers in his bed. He was hiding from his aunt and her questions. He was hiding from himself and the disappointment he felt about it all.

Peter’s phone rested against the pillow to his side. He ignored all the incoming text messages from his friends and instead scrolled through every social media and news outlet he could think of trying to get a crumb of new information. There were videos breaking down every scene of the footage released like a movie trailer. Everything was conjecture.

There was one option to find the truth.

Shaking hands dialed the contact and with minimal thought to convince himself out of this course of action, Peter pressed call. The lone sound that filled the air was the rings followed by Mr. Stark’s voicemail. The man’s voice, gentle and teasing, took Peter’s breath away. He hadn’t heard it in so long and yet it felt like yesterday. He remembered the story Pepper told him of how she forced him to set up the voicemail on his number.

“You know who it is. You’re trying to call me so I’m supposed to say leave a number but don’t. I’ll find you.” He could hear the phone being put down and Mr. Stark walking away while talking to his partner. “Are you happy now, Pepper?” He said and they both laughed.

She told Peter over dinner one night how stubborn the man was. How even though he was quick to right his wrongs, change came difficult for him, including, apparently, a new voicemail. The man had griped from across the table but winked at Peter when he insisted in defending Mr. Stark’s honor and told Pepper he was the same way. He glanced up under his lashes when he spoke, confident for the first time that night, to see their eyes soften as they gazed at him.

He scowled at the memory and let the phone fall screen first onto his mattress before turning toward the wall. Peter tucked the blanket higher over his head and wished he had the courage to leave a voicemail, or to call one more time so he could hear their laughter again.

His stomach throbbed as he thought about his internship. He spent so many hours in the Tower over forged metal and takeout boxes with the man. All the time he agonized over if he should be there and listing everyway he wasn’t good enough when it would’ve been, not easy because nothing was that easy, but worth it to forget about all that. How strange and how worth it would his internship have been if Peter had just accepted he was wanted there? At the time he rationalized he was doing everyone a favor. He was saving them from disappointment but maybe he was saving himself the potential hurt. Peter thought of his promise to himself to try and be happy and he realized maybe this was a part of it.

Osborn and his curled smile were the crux of this. The injection of that man into his life had closed off doors he was only beginning to see were available to him. If only he’d never gone to Oscorp.

It was no use thinking like that but his mind kept circling around the two men well into the morning. Nothing fruitful came of it and he was left with shadows darkening his eyes.

May tried to grab his attention. She loaded up his plate with toast and strawberries but Peter pushed it around. His homework beckoned him from his desk but as he sat there, Peter found his eyes wandering to the fire escape and beyond.

His feet pounded against the sidewalk as his walk turned into a run. Despite the screaming in his muscles and the pressure building in his lungs he continued forward, urged by the lack of thought his action was providing. He was so focused on his body he didn’t have to think about Mr. Stark and why he was fighting with Captain America. Self-reflective thoughts were shoved down by the sound of his harsh breaths and for the moment Peter was running.

And it was heaven.

Thank you!

Taglist: @whatisthou @demi-starzak @warmwithafewfrostymoments

Next Chapter Seventeen: Reflections and Realizations

#civil war #peter parker #shy peter parker #fanfiction #the supplejack #iron man #captain america #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #irondad #iron dad #spider son #my writing #eliza writes #lots of introspection

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