FanFic.nl

Being a Stark [Superfamily]

Chapter 30

Steve.

Tony wants to say his name, but the words don’t come out. His mouth is too dry. Or is it that his mind is wiped?

Maybe it’s the ache in his chest? The way it feels like there’s a hundred knives pushed through it.

Steve.

He’s standing there, tall as ever. A loose shirt, skin tanned from the sun. Are those freckles on his cheeks? Tony would love to check it out, but it would be weird to do that. So he stays back.

Steve.

It would be easy to hug him, to kiss him. He’s right there, after all. It’s easy to touch him, to smile at him, to tell him he loves him. It’s so fucking easy.

“Rogers,” comes out. The smile that was building up on Steve’s face disappears again.

“Tony, don’t-“

Tony holds up his hand. Steve needs to stop right now. If he hears even a little bit of his voice, Tony’s mind will probably just explode on the spot.

“T’Challa planned for this. I didn’t know you were here. Wakanda, of all places?” He shakes his head, lets out a shaky breath, and then he turns around on the spot. He only manages to make two steps before he’s stopped again. Steve’s strong hand is on his arm, his skin burning Tony where they’re touching.

“Tony, please, don’t go,” Steve begs of him. Tony turns around immediately. His breath speeds up, his hands are balled into fists.

“Don’t go? That’s rich, coming from you. After all, you’re the one who ran out on us, isn’t it?”

Steve pulls his hand back, eyes sad again, mouth pulled into a thin line. Tony closes his eyes. Another headache comes up. He rubs his forehead, trying to dull the pain a bit.

“You told me to go,” Steve answers quietly. Is his voice breaking? Did he lose weight, too? Steve looks different in many ways.

The beard looks good.

No! No way his mind is going there!

“That’s right, I did. After I found out you’ve been lying to me for two years!”

Don’t. Go. For. The. Chest.

Just don’t.

Tony closes his eyes. He’s rubbing his chest anyway.

“I never lied, Tony. Never to you, I promise,” Steve says. He takes Tony’s hand and pulls it away from the scar. Tony blinks a few times, staring at the place where Steve is touching him. He should pull back. He needs to step back. Right now.

But it feels too good. Because Steve is here, and he should just forget about everything and just take him into his arms, because who cares? Who cares if they’ve been fighting? They’ve fought before, and they’ve gotten over it.

But my mother? He hid it for two years. All these times, lying in bed, telling each other everything. He could have mentioned it.

Tony doesn’t pull away. But he doesn’t look at Steve, either.

“I’ve missed you, so much,” Steve tells him. Tony closes his eyes again, taking another deep breath. “I only had the updates from Nat, so how have you been, Tony?”

Tony shakes his head.

“How have I been?” Tony asks. “You know, one break-up was hard enough on me as it is. I guess the only reason I haven’t just completely offed myself is because of my teenage son who has been giving me nothing more than grey hair lately.”

Tony finally pulls his hand away. Then he takes a couple of steps back. Good, get some distance.

“My best friend is paralyzed. My ex-girlfriend had to come and help with the PR since all we got for a while was bad press. My son keeps on ditching detention or almost getting himself killed. And then there’s the fact that the government had me take Spidey’s suit away because he was being too reckless.

“How have I been, Rogers? Horrible! That’s how I’ve been. You happy now? What did you expect? That I would just… get over this so quickly?”

“Have you been taking your medications?” Steve asks in worry. Tony then laughs it out.

“Wh- you think that’s still any of your business?” He should walk away now. Because, unknowingly, he’s getting closer again. Closer to that strong, muscular body. Closer to those perfect lips. Closer to Steve. “You aren’t my boyfriend, Steve. My fucking mental health isn’t any of your concern anymore.”

“We haven’t broken up, Tony.”

“Like HELL we haven’t!”

“As long as I don’t hear the words from your mouth, I won’t accept it,” Steve tells him, stubbornly as always. He crosses his arms, but Tony can see that he’s close to breaking down. Good, let him feel it.

“What words?!”

“As long as you haven’t explicitly said ‘Steve, I’m breaking up with you’, we are not over.”

“Fine! Steve, I’m breaking up with y-“ but he can’t finish the sentence. Here they are again. Fighting. It’s all they’ve been doing lately, isn’t it? Yet he still can’t fucking say it.

He’s been telling himself for the past three months that they’re done. That they’ve broken up and that he has to move on with his life. But as it is now, how can he do it? How can he do any of it without Steve? The man who has been taking care of him when he was at his lowest. The man who loves his son as if Peter were his own.

“Say it, Tony!” Steve reminds him, voice raised a bit.

“I’m-“ he starts again, but nothing more comes out.

“Say it!”

“I CAN’T!” Tony shouts back, grabbing his arms and softly shaking him. Then he lowers his head until the top of his skull is resting against Steve’s chest. “I fucking can’t.”

“Well… neither can I. So I suppose we’re stuck with each other, aren’t we?” Steve says, trying to joke about it, but the humor escapes both of them. The man puts his hands on Tony’s back and pulls him closer.

They stay there for a while. The sun moves position just slightly, but the blinding light disappears. The garden looks normal again, no longer magical. The gardeners are returning from their break, not even looking at the pair next to the fountain.

Eventually, Tony looks up and puts a hand on Steve’s cheek. Without warning, he pulls him closer, softly grazing his lips on his. His chest warms up, his heart speeding up. Unknowingly, his hand glides behind Steve’s neck to pull him even closer.

Everything in his body is telling him not to stop. His mind is telling him otherwise. But maybe, for once, Tony shouldn’t listen to his brain. What could be the harm in this, after all?

Tony doesn’t know how they’ve suddenly ended up in an airconditioned room. He can only vaguely recall the two of them, running back inside with their fingers tangled together. Steve probably knows his way through the gardens.

They’re in what seems like a bedroom. Their lips once again attached. Only shortly do they pull away to let Steve take off his shirt. Tony throws it away somewhere on the ground. Steve undoes the buttons of his own shirt. It joins the other quickly.

Then Tony’s on his back, on a soft mattress that could almost be more heavenly than his own at the tower. Almost. His hands are thrown up, held there by Steve’s strong fingers. The super soldier is kissing his way down on Tony’s chest, paying most of his attention on the scar on his chest.

Nobody speaks. All they do is breathe heavily, touch each other’s bodies. Tony loses his pants after Steve lowered the kisses all the way down to his belly. When Steve takes off his, Tony isn’t sure. He’s not paying attention anymore.

Because Steve is here. And he’s kissing him, and they’re together.

What more could Tony want?

They roll over after a while. It’s time for Tony to return the favor. Tony rubs his face all over Steve’s beard, enjoying the feeling of it. He doesn’t do the same; doesn’t kiss him everywhere. Tony doesn’t want to pull away from Steve’s face. He uses his hands instead. Or just one of them. The other hand, the healthy hand, holds on to Steve’s wrists, copying the position he was in earlier.

It’s an unspoken agreement when they move it along. There’s preparation, there’s a lot of long stares and grunting. When Steve pushes inside, Tony almost cries it out. He puts his hands on Steve’s back, nails scratching his skin. Steve doesn’t seem to notice it; not when he’s feeling like he’s about to break apart like this.

He pulls his eyes away. He can’t look at him. He’s sure he’ll end up in tears that way, reminded of the shit they’ve been through.

“Fuck,” he grits out. Steve gives a strong thrust. Tony literally cries now from the sudden shift.

“Tony, Tony, I-“ he starts. He shudders, closing his eyes again. Tony silences him by kissing him.

Steve doesn’t need to talk. He’s going to say it otherwise. And it’s really the last thing Tony needs to hear now. If he says it, Tony is going to break for real.

They’re at their peak. Tony can hear it in Steve’s sounds. The desperate noises he makes, telling Tony that he’s close, but also that he doesn’t want to end it so soon. But it has to. They can’t go on forever. So Steve doesn’t stop, keeps up the pace, bringing both of them over the edge at the same time.

Then he drops down on top of Tony, breathless, unable to move any more. Tony feels empty, wasted. There’s no possible way for him to get away from this spot for probably the next few hours. But he still tries. With a lot of effort, he gently pushes Steve away from him, rolling him over until he’s on his back as well, putting his hand on his chest. Looking over at the ceiling, watching the fan turn in its regular cycle, realization hits him.

Holy crap, what did he do?

He closes his eyes. How could this happen? How could he have just… done this? This is horrible, it’s probably the worst thing that could have happened between them right now.

Because, in the end, Tony still hurt Steve, punched him in every way possible. Out of anger. It never should have happened. Another reminder that he’s, in fact, worse than his own Dad.

His hands go up to cover his eyes. He ignores the fingers gently going over his skin. They feel good, sure. But right now, Tony just feels nauseated.

And Steve just has to make it worse by speaking.

“I love you, Tony. Always.”

Tony’s hands pull back, and suddenly he’s shifting. He forces himself to sit up again, taking a few seconds to catch his breath before he stands up. Meanwhile, Steve comes up as well, frowning at Tony.

“Tones? What are you doing?” he asks in confusion. Tony sniffs for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. They feel wet, stinging already. But he won’t cry. He can’t.

“I, uh,” he starts. Then he chuckles when he pulls his pants off the ground and puts them back on. Where-ever his underwear went, he has no clue. It’s not like it matters. He just wants to be away from here as quickly as possible. “This was a mistake.”

“How- this could never be a mistake!” Steve counters quickly. He jumps up as well, grabbing Tony by the shoulders to turn him around. Tony keeps his gaze lowered as he zips up his pants. “Tony, don’t tell me you actually feel what we did is wrong?”

But it is. Because how can Tony pretend everything is alright when he knows how Steve grunts when Tony is punching him right in the face? How can Tony think it’s okay when he clearly remembers the blood dripping out of Steve’s nose, him begging for Tony to stop.

It doesn’t matter he got punches in return. The problem is that he started it.

“I need to go,” Tony says, pulling away from Steve to take his shirt back.

“Tony, please! Just look at me!”

“No!” Tony shouts then. Another shaky breath. “In what universe is this not a mistake? We can’t just wipe away all those punches I gave you. You were bruised and bleeding! And you want me to pretend that I’m not worse than my own father there?”

“It’s not like that, Tony. I don’t hold it against you,” Steve utters back, still holding on to his arms. “I need you with me, I want you, only you!”

Gaze still lowered, Tony chuckles out dryly.

“That’s the problem now, isn’t it?” Tony asks. Then, at last, he looks up. He gently removes Steve’s hands from his shoulders. Then he puts some distance between the two of them.

“Tony?” Steve asks.

“I’m breaking up with you, Steve,” Tony finally says. It takes a lot of effort, and Tony hates himself in every possible aspect, but he said it. It’s done. They’re done. He should go now, leave Steve for good. It’s for the best, after all.

Steve wants to talk. Tony wants to leave. Neither get what they want when suddenly a cellphone goes off. It’s not Tony’s, so it must be Steve’s.

But he isn’t moving at all. Tony gives him a long look before going to the nightstand, and grabbing the monstrous flip-phone to check on the caller.

Peter Parker calling.

“What the…?” Tony asks. He doesn’t think more after that. Doesn’t even wait for Steve to give his permission to pick up. He just does, pressing the phone against his ear. “Peter?! How did you get this number?”

“…Dad? Is that you? How did you get this phone?” Peter asks. He sounds breathless. There’s a lot of noise out there. It that… a car?

“Peter, what’s going on?” Tony asks, suddenly scared for his answer. He can only guess what Peter might be doing, and he hates the idea of it.

“Dad, we got trouble.”

Peter just goes on. He returns to school, his old suit in his bag but not aching to use it immediately. He’s pulled into the principal’s office, gets his well-deserved scolding before being allowed back to class. Nothing more than just detention for the following few weeks until they decide it’s enough. At least he’s not expelled.

“Dude, you’re so lucky,” Ned even tells him when they’re on their way to class. Peter doesn’t respond.

He pays attention to class, answers the teacher’s questions and makes notes. It’s the only way for him to keep himself from thinking back about yesterday. Tony will be leaving tonight, all the way to Wakanda. But Peter doesn’t really want to see him right now. Not because he’s angry, but because he’s ashamed. He’s been a pretty crap son, after all.

With homecoming dance coming closer, Peter quickly finds himself with the realization that he doesn’t have a date. And it isn’t like he was going to come, but now he finds himself with a lot of free time with a lack of crime-fighting or tinkering around in the workshop. So he surprises everybody and their mother when he asks Liz as his date.

Because he knows she’ll say yes.

So Peter hurries home after detention. He only has about three hours before he needs to be at Liz’ house, and he has close to no suit at all. And May is there to help. They put some stuff together. With a credit card Tony provided them, they managed to get a suit. The woman helps him getting the tie right. Then she gives suggestions for a corsage, which Peter goes to get next.

May shows him a few dance moves. Peter tries not to think back to the last time he danced. Then she drives him to Liz’ house, remembering the address.

“Okay, the game is on. So what’s the plan?” May asks. Peter leans to the side.

“I’ll, uh, open the door for her,” Peter starts. May hums in agreement. “Tell her she looks nice but not too much ‘cause that’s creepy.”

May nods. “You don’t want creepy.”

“No,” Peter agrees. “And uh, when I dance with her I put my hands on her hips.”

“Alright, get out there.”

“Thanks, I love you.”

Then he walks up the stairs. Corsage in hands, matching the color of her dress (because Peter had the foresight to ask which color it would be, and all she did was send a closeup off the fabric off the dress, not revealing anything other than the color). He presses the bell, takes a deep breath and then waits.

He never expects the vulture-guy to open the door.

So, yeah, apparently he’s Liz’ father. Who knew?

Peter loses everything May told him after that. All he does is stare awkwardly at Liz’ father, Mr. Toomes. He’s busy doing the dishes, wearing a blue plaid shirt and looking all domestic. Not at all like he’s about to kill him again.

And then Liz comes down, and Peter just sort of pushes the corsage into her hands. Liz’ mother wants to take a picture of them. Peter can’t even smile.

His senses are all wrong; he’s shivering all over, he’s on edge. The constant feeling that something is wrong won’t leave him, and if he wasn’t in here right now he would be screaming it out.

And to make it worse, Mr. Toomes insists on driving them, apparently going out of town anyway. If that isn’t enough indication that something is wrong, Peter doesn’t know.

They try conversation. It only ends up with Mr. Toomes realizing who he is, and him getting a speech about staying out of his way. What the man doesn’t realize is Peter dropping his personal cellphone on the floor right before leaving the car.

He gets inside, trying to shake it off. He sees Ned dancing, sees Michelle standing there with him and a few others of the Decathlon team. On the left, there’s Liz and her friends, already dancing. She smiles when she sees him. All Peter does is disappoint her.

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve this,” he tells her. “I need to go.”

Having left his old suit in his locker the other day, Peter hurries to it, quickly changes in the bathroom. He leaves the tux there.

Outside, he’s awaited by one of Mr. Toomes’ buddies. The man with the shocking device. Or, it’s a different man than the one Peter saw that first time. What happened to him? Peter is thrown around a bit more, but eventually Ned comes to his rescue by using the web-shooters that fell off Peter’s old suit.

The thing is breaking apart already. There was a reason why he was so happy to be rid of it.

“Ned! The guy with the wings is Liz’ dad!” Peter tells him quickly. Ned needs the short update if Peter wants his help.

“What?” Ned asks, surprised.

“I know, I got to tell my Dad! You need to call Happy Hogan, he’s my Dad’s head of security. And then you need to track my phone for me!”

Peter starts running towards a street light. He needs to be on higher ground.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Ned asks.

“Hurry, we gotta catch him before he leaves town!”

Then Peter is swinging away. But he’s not going fast enough this way. So he drops down on the first car that he sees arriving at the school. There might be a bit of smugness when he sees it’s Flash. Remembering the Batman movies, Peter scrapes his throat, masking his voice.

“Flash, I need your car and your phone,” he says. It hurts his throat a bit to talk like this, but he manages to give Flash a scared look on his face. That, of course, next to adoration. Everybody at the school knows Flash adores Spider-Man.

“Uh, sir, te-tech-technically this is my dad’s car, sir, so I can’t really-“

“IT IS IMPORTANT!” Peter assures him.

“O-okay,” Flash stutters out. He jumps out of the Audi and instructs his date to do the same. The blonde girl looks extremely annoyed at that. Peter smirks once he’s behind the wheel. Just to get some payback for the past few years, he ‘accidentally’ bumps up against a few parked bikes and a trash can.

Using Flash’ phone, he quickly types in Ned’s number. Then he puts him on speaker phone as he reaches inside his suit to pull out another phone. It’s the one from Steve, and he doesn’t know if it’s going to do any good, calling him, but he has to try. Maybe Steve is nearby? Maybe Steve knows Tony’s number by heart, and he could pass it along. The problem is that Peter just can’t remember the number, and he doesn’t have access to FRIDAY right now.

Now, New York traffic isn’t at all made for a car chase. While Ned seems to find all the thrilling, exciting aspects of this whole business, Peter is fearing for his life with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder as he dodges a bus. He’s breaking countless of traffic laws, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even matter to him if he’s going to be in trouble again after this. He’ll sign those damn accords, for what it matters. He just needs to stop this guy, once and for all.

“Peter, are you okay?” Ned asks after a certain time of shouting and squealing.

“I’ve never really done a car chase before! Only careful driving! This is insane!” Peter shouts. With all the movements, he accidentally pressed the red button on the flip phone. The call never got through. “Have you gotten through to Happy yet?”

“Hold on, I’m working on it. I’m working through the phone systems.”

“O-okay! I’m making a call as well.” But then the phone falls from his shoulder, on the ground. Peter curses, but he can’t stop the car to pick it back up. Not right now at least.

“Hey, Ned! How are we doing over those headlights?” Peter then asks when another cars honks at him for not having his lights turned on.

“Uh, round knob to the left of the steering wheel, turn clockwise,” Ned says. Peter follows the instruction, and then he sees the symbol of the lights turned on.

“Okay, perfect! So where’s my phone now?”

“Uhm, he stopped in an old industrial park in Brooklyn,” Ned says. Peter frowns.

“What?! That doesn’t make any sense? He said he was going out of town!”

Whoops, Peter turns the wheel to the right, only barely missing the other car. This car is crazy!

“Weird… Oh, and I reached Mr. Happy; don’t think he likes it by the way. It sounded like he was catching a flight. Said something about taking off in nine minutes.”

“What?!”

“He was surrounded by a bunch of boxes,” Ned clarifies.

“Oh shit! It’s moving day! All the Avengers’ stuff being transported to the compound!” Peter realizes. “He’s gonna rob Dad’s plane! I gotta stop him!”

If he wants to call Steve, he needs to do it now. With his web shooter, he gets the phone off the floor. Trying his best not to crash against anything, Peter searches for the only number in there, and presses call. This time, he holds the device with his hand.

The call goes over. One ring, two. Three. Four. Then Steve picks up.

“What the…? Peter?! How did you get this number?”

Wait, that’s not Steve?

“…Dad? Is that you? How did you get this phone?” Another car honks at him when he almost crashes against it.

“Peter, what’s going on?” Tony asks. Right now, Peter’s mind is going in overdrive! How is Dad with Steve? How did he get the number? Dad is in Wakanda!

Does that mean that Steve is there, too? Have they been meeting each other in secret this whole time?

Wait, no, there’s more troubling matters to deal with.

“Dad, we got trouble! Liz’ dad is the Vulture-guy, and he threatened to kill me and everybody if I didn’t leave him alone, but he’s going after your plane loaded with all the Avengers-stuff that you were going to move so I have to stop him and-“

“Hold on, hold on, Peter, take a little breath there and tell it slowly.”

Peter listens.

“I found the Vulture-guy. His name is Adrian Toomes and he’s Liz’ dad. He’s headed to Brooklyn, but he’s planning on hijacking the ship that will transport all your stuff to the compound.”

“Peter, don’t tell me your chasing this guy?”

“I have to, Dad! He’s going to steal your tech to make his own weapons!”

“After everything- Peter, they’re not going to let you walk away like that a second time, do you understand?” Tony asks. Peter gulps but then nods.

“I understand. But this is important.”

Tony stays quiet for a moment. Then Peter hears him sigh. In the background, there’s a second voice. Is that Steve?

“Just put him through,” he hears, though the voice is muffled. Then there’s some shifting noises, and the other person, Steve, starts speaking to him. “Peter, where are you now?”

“Uh, nearing Brooklyn. He’s in an industrial park.”

“Shit, the plane already took off. I left my phone in my jacket so I can’t reprogram its course,” Tony mutters.

“Listen, Peter, whatever you’re doing, stop it. This is too big for you. I know you’re trying to help, but even Natasha’s training won’t help you with this.”

“Steve, I’m Spider-Man! I’m Spider-Man!” Peter almost shouts. On the other side, he can hear Ned instructing him to go right, so he listens. “And I’m in pursuit. I can do this, but I can’t be too late!”

That’s when he realizes he took his next turn too late. With the movement too abrupt, he shoots out a web to help with it but ends up with the tires of the car leaving the ground. Then, suddenly, the car tips over, scraping over the ground towards another street light?

“Peter! What is happening!”

Peter just shouts until the car comes to a halt. Then he takes a few seconds to breathe before he picks both phones back up and jumps outside.

“I’m alright, but I lost the car,” he admits.

“Holy shit, Peter,” three voices say at the same time.

“I’m here. I need to hang up now, but I could really use some assistance after this.”

Ned isn’t answering, the call somehow already disconnected. Peter loses the phone.

“Peter, please, I beg of you; be careful,” Tony exclaims. “I’m going to take the first flight back, but I want you to promise me that you’ll be careful, alright?”

“I’ll do my best, Dad,” Peter promises. “I’ll call you when it’s over.”

Then he hangs up as well. He puts the phone in the inner-pocket, knowing he’s playing with its survival here. But he has nowhere else to put it. After that, he hurries inside.

Reacties:

Er zijn nog geen reacties op dit verhaal.