#anthony you sick beautiful bastard you make me cry

[variksel]

every single day i think about nicky close-foster whose entire personality completely shifted when he grew up with a different dad. every day i think about how no matter what kind of person he turned out to be, the core is that both nick and nicholas idolized and loved their dads so much that they tried to be so much like them. in both timelines. the only core of nicky foster/close that stayed the same when he turned from nick to nicholas was the love he had for his father.

i think that if one of the other sons' dads had gotten switched, they hadnt had NEARLY the same kind of reaction to the kid. i think grant, terry, and the twins' personalities would have stayed at least relatively the same. but nicks didnt because he looked up to his dad so much that he based his entire personality off of him

and i will never stop thinking about that

[omgtheregoesthefuckidontgive]

I just started watching Bridgeton s3 and I'm basically just going to keep all my thoughts in one. So without further ado, here is my reaction to everything in part one

COLIN WTF YOU LOOK LIKE A ASEXY PIRATE AND THEN SUDDENLY YOURE LIKE THROWING WINKS AROUND AND SHIT. YOU AIN'T SHIT MOFO GOD I better see him grovel

I don't mean to sound superficial, but Bridgeton proves that everyone is actually beautiful you just need to know how to put yourself together

Yall can tell me all you want that Colin wasn't attracted to pen before, but he was, if not her appearance then her mind, and he saw her beauty within, and now seeing what he always saw on display on the outside is going to kill him

Anthony and Kate are just dazzling this season. Oh my god how are they so hot, so passionate

This is not how you win our favour, I do not want to see this man whoring around in a threesome. Pen doesn't deserve a man whore 🥲

Actually maybe that's just the gay in my that I don't like seeing that I guess...

Colin is a braver man than I, if pen asked me to kiss her, she wouldn't even have to to explain why, I'd be like yep that's all the I need before I had her

Penelope "I don't know how to flirt" featherington you absolute liar. GIVING HIM THE MOST PERFECT KISS AND THEN LEAVING WITHOUT YEARINF now he's the one that's like whoah hold up GIRL UOU ARE A MASTER FLIRT

OH HAHA I THOUGHT THAT WAS GOING TO BE PENS DREAM!!!! IT'S FUCKING COLIN HAHAHAHAHAH

I am loving how Colin has gone from cocky bastard to basically same level as awkward as pen

Oh dear God YESSSSSS HIM LUSTING OVER HER IS WHAT I NEEDED AANHHHHG

The most painful thing so far has been seeing pen and cressida fight over a man

GET IT MAMA BRIDGETON (if they turn out to be siblings I'm going back to church)

BROTHER HAHAHA OKAY GOOD NOW GET IT MAMA

WHAT IS THIS SILENT RIZZ, how come when I stand next to someone in silence it's creeping

Ngl lady tilly could use brute force strength on me 👉👈

I genuinely cannot tell from violets reaction if she's OK with the idea of Colin and pen

*Colin looks at pen with lust* pen: Are you sick??? Wtf boy??

I WAS SCREAMING COLIN WTF WERE YOU THINKING??? OF JUST TAKING HER THERE ON THE BALLROOM

"you can read from all the way back there"

OH STFU WITH WITH SILE T RIZZ

Lord deblimg is playing pen in all the right ways,

NO GODDAMIT COLIN STOP FUCKING OTHER. WOMAN YOURE MAKING IT SO HARD TO LIKE YOU

Oh bohoo Colin cry about being a whore

Look I know eloise has her own love book, and I know who her future husband is but I don't like it. So please can eloise and cressida just be lesbians

The way I can only watch 4 eps is an absolute crime.

For god sake penelope are you going to marry me or not

HOLLERIMG HE'S SO UNROMANTIC

[irishseeeker]

                                  i’ve been waiting for you 

Summary: Each time Kate and Anthony meet their children.

read chapter one here

---

chapter 2: kate meets edmund

It started with eggs.

Kate had always loved eggs. Since she was a young girl, she had always had eggs for breakfast with two slices of bread. She sometimes had a boiled egg as a snack or one with some lunch.

She had carried that habit through to her marriage.

Until one morning, she joined her husband at the breakfast table with her stomach growling. She had slept well the night before, Anthony had worn her out after a few rounds, and she was absolutely famished when she woke up that morning. Anthony leaned in to kiss her when she sat down and once they broke apart she reached for the eggs.

She lifted the lid off the plate and all it took was the whiff of fresh eggs that hit her nostrils, and Kate vomited onto their lovely cream carpet.

Anthony had been horrified, carrying her straight back to bed and insisting she sip water while they waited for the doctor.

Kate’s head remained in their chamber pot until the doctor arrived.

She found out she was pregnant that morning.

She had been quite oblivious to the signs-she had missed her courses, but sometimes they did not come. Her breasts had become swollen and she had started more naps than usual. She had put that down to Anthony’s lunch time execurisons to the bedroom since he had started coming home everyday during lunchtime.

Her experience with pregnancy was practically non-existent, the only exposure she had had was watching her sister in law, Daphne, carry her two children. She had watched Daphne glow throughout her pregnancies.

Kate did not feel as if she was glowing.

She felt swollen and self conscious. She also felt incredibly nauseous. As the months passed, she began to stretch in areas she didn’t think would grow, but they did.

Anthony was particularly pleased about the growth in her chest.

Her sickness did not subside for most of her pregnancy. It wasn’t reserved for the mornings like for most women, either. Her stomach could only handle plain foods with little taste.

Anthony, of course, was a hovering mess. He worried about everything and anything. If Kate was on her feet, he would try to get her to sit down. If she lifted a book off a shelf, he would come running to do it for her.

She loved her husband and she knew his actions were out of affection, but the miracle was not the child she was carrying but the fact she did not murder her husband.

When she finally went into labour, it was a terrifying relief. She wanted to meet her baby and finally not be pregnant.

Her midwife, to be blunt, was a word Anthony had taught her-a bastard.

She had spent a considerable amount of time from the moment she arrived not focusing on Kate but insisting Anthony leave the room.

It may not be considered the proper thing for a man to witness birth, but Kate often wondered if the reasoning for it was simply because most men could not handle it.

Anthony Bridgerton was not most men.

A real man would hold his wife’s hand and support her through labor, which for Kate would go on for most of the night.

Anthony Bridgerton did exactly that.

Kate needed him. She needed her husband. From the moment she married him, her need for him had grown and scared her. He was her best friend. He was her comfort and joy. She needed him to hold her hand while she went through the worst pain of her life to bring their child into the world.

Anthony would have not left her side for anything.

There had been a particular afternoon, at around seven months pregnant, where Kate had joined Violet, Mary and Daphne for tea. The three women, having experienced child birth, were not shy with the details.

Kate had managed to keep her composure until she arrived home to Bridgerton House.

It had taken one look from her husband and for him to ask if she was alright for Kate to completely fall apart.

Kate had sobbed for hours. She had been completely distraught. All of her fears slipped out of her like a confession. She didn’t think she would be a good mother. She didn’t want to let Anthony and their baby down. She was terrified of giving birth and the things Violet, Daphne and Mary had said had horrified her. What if she couldn't do it?

She had said all of this to her husband. Anthony had held her for hours, rubbing her back and whispering soothing words into her ear. When she felt sick, he was her cure. He managed to calm her down eventually, running her a hot bath and sliding in with her. He helped her catch her breath, to breathe in and out with her as the warm water slowly calmed her.

They had come a long way in their relationship, learning to be more open and honest about their fears. Anthony still struggled with his mortality and his own fears of fatherhood and he had told her that night as well. He had made Kate's fears feel valid. He had made her feel safe. That she wasn't crazy.

He made her feel that she could do this.

That they could do this.

Despite the fear she felt, she knew it really would be okay. They would go through it together and they would be a family.

The actual birth itself, to put it plainly with another word Anthony had taught her, hurt like a bitch.

She didn’t know how she did it but she did. She groaned and held Anthony or Mary’s hand through each pain as the minutes turned into hours.

Kate knew she was close. The intense pressure she felt and the urgent need to push, which the midwife kept instructing her to do, along with Anthony and Mary at her side, meant she was nearly there.

Her baby was nearly here.

A piercing cry tore through the air and that intense pressure had dropped, the pain still tearing through her but the midwife announced her son was here.

Her son was here.

“Oh my, is he alright?” Kate sobbed, collapsing against the pillows but her eyes did not leave her son. She was so exhausted and happy, the tears and beads of sweat making their way down her face as her son was put on her chest. He was wriggling, slightly pink and purple and he was covered in a white substance and red splotches of blood.

He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“Oh, Anthony. Look,” Kate whispered, her eyes tearing off her baby’s face for a second to lock eyes with her husband’s teary ones. Anthony leaned down to kiss her softly and she felt everything he was feeling. They broke apart only to stare back down at their son.

Kate squeezed Mary’s hand once Anthony held the baby, looking at the woman who had become her mother when she had lost her own so young. She owed Mary everything.

Kate woke up a few hours later to Anthony rocking their son by the window. Kate’s exhaustion had led to her sleeping through most of the night and she fell back asleep after feeding Edmund and laying with Anthony for a while. Mary returned early in the morning, fussing over Kate and making sure her daughter was recovering as well as she could.

Mary lightly dabbed Kate’s forehead with a damp cloth.

“Hi,” She whispered, letting out a mixture between a sob and laugh as Edmund let out a small yawn, his entire face scrunching up as he stretched open his tiny mouth.

Kate was still processing the fact this tiny perfect baby was hers.

The first person Anthony had fetched was her sister, Edwina, who had been waiting eagerly downstairs.

“It is indescribable, is it not?” Mary murmured, lightly brushing Kate’s hair behind her ears. “The love you have for your children.”

“Oh Kate,” Edwina gasped, covering her gaping mouth as she carefully sat on the edge of the bed. “He is wonderful. You did amazing.” She pressed a kiss to her sister’s forehead.

They eventually left Kate to rest and Kate lay there in their bed, for the first time, completely alone with her son.

Her son.

She pulled her knees towards her chest as much as she could, still feeling quite sore everywhere. She carefully lay Edmund on her knees, taking his tiny hands in hers.

This had been the person who had kept her company the last nine months. Whenever Anthony had to work, or she could not sleep, Edmund had been there. He usually had been keeping her awake. It seemed bizarre but Kate stared at his tiny little face with his bright blue eyes, she felt like she already knew him. She had talked to him a lot, poking her bump and he would kick her back.

She was looking at her and Anthony. His round nose was all her, it was her father’s nose that Kate had inherited. Her heart panged for her father, who would never meet Anthony, who would never meet Edmund or any of their future children.

He was named after two great men and Kate would never forget the look on Anthony’s face when she suggested the name Edmund Benedict Bridgerton.

Benedict had become a good friend to Kate, he had kept her company and taught her to paint through her confinement with her broken leg and limited mobility during pregnancy.

“You are absolutely wonderful,” She murmured, pressing a kiss to his little fingers. They were so adorable and tiny. “We love you so much.”

“I know you have already been acquainted, but let me tell you more about your father,” Kate whispered, her eyes darting to Anthony’s heavily snoring figure beside her. “We are so lucky, you and I. He is….he is everything, sweetheart. He is kind, caring, funny, incredibly arrogant-but absolutely perfect in every conceivable way. As are you,” Kate whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to her son’s cheek. “We might keep the perfect part to ourselves. We can’t inflate your father’s ego much more, it’ll explode.”

She could not take her eyes off him.

Her perfect baby boy.

Edmund was so tiny for making Kate so large. She had been rather self conscious during her pregnancy, and when she had eventually expressed her fears to Anthony, he had spent every day putting in extra effort to tell her how gorgeous she was.

Then he would use his tongue, fingers and hips to show her.

What a man.

The door opened slowly and Anthony appeared, smiling softly at Kate as he closed the door behind him and joined her on the bed.

Kate insisted Anthony needed to rest which her stubborn husband finally agreed to, leaving Kate and Edmund with Mary and Edwina.

He looked refreshed despite the dark bags under his eyes, similar to Kates. She knew they would be a familiar feature of theirs for the rest of their lives.

Edmund Benedict Bridgerton already had a good set of lungs.

He wrapped his arms around them, his family, pressing a kiss to her temple and bridging his hand to Edmund’s small cheek to lightly brush it. “How are you?”

“We are good,” Kate said, running her finger through the wisps of hair on the top of Edmund’s head. “I’m absolutely starving.”

Anthony turned to smile softly at her, “What do you fancy?”

Kate grinned at her husband.

“I’m dying for some eggs.”

[thatspectacularpigeon]

Ok so I'm writing this book and I hope you feel like reading some gay fluff. You asked for angst, I bring angst. Here's some context: Ollie is a guardian angel who's fallen in love with his human.

Anthony is explained.

-----------

End of Chapter 21: The night sky twinkled with stars. Ollie's eyes skimmed over them. He sighed, "So much for one third of the stars."

Anthony said, "One third of the stars... one third of Heaven's angels fell. That's why there's demons. What has you wondering about all that?"

Ollie grabbed Anthony's hand and said, "It's nothing... just a thing I was thinking about. Nothing you'd understand."

Anthony looked down at Ollie's hand and blushed.

"Ollie..."

"Hush, Anthony. You should get some sleep. I'm sure you must be tired."

"Are you tired?" Anthony asked.

"Uh... Not really."

"Well we could stay up."

Within the next five minutes the two were walking through different cars. Eventually they found an empty one.

"Oh... Nobody's here. Huh," Anthony sighed. He looked at Ollie. "Do you dare kiss me?"

Ollie said, "Maybe I do."

He then wrapped his arms around Anthony. He kissed him with tenderness.

Anthony smirked and mumbled, "Daring bastard."

"Maybe I am. You dared me, after all," Ollie said before kissing him again.

The only reason they broke apart was because Anthony started giggling.

"What's so funny?" Ollie asked.

Anthony sat down and said, "It's nothing."

Ollie slid into the seat behind him and hunched himself over the back of the seat. He reached his arm down to Anthony's chin and tilted it up.

"C'mon. Tell me."

Anthony rolled his eyes and said, "Fine. It seems like everything just works out for me and it always has. Like I wanted to be alone with you... And we're alone. It's Christmas. This car should be packed."

"Eh... Well it's not."

Anthony said, "And I'm here with you. What are the chances?"

"One in a million."

Anthony laid back in the seat and said, "It's like I've got a guardian angel watching over me. I don't know. I expect all that to end soon."

"Why's that?"

"Well there's something wrong with me. I'm sick."

"You're not sick," Ollie said, "You don't seem sick."

Anthony said, "You said you'd spend a lifetime with me. Give me peace to die with. In the end when my angel judges me, give me fond memories."

"You're not sick though."

Anthony closed his eyes and said, "The doctors say there's something wrong with my heart. They don't know how much longer I'm going to live for. I'm not scared of dying though."

Ollie asked, "What are they saying?"

Anthony sighed, "Lots of things. Lots of things that don't matter. I don't care. I'm going to die anyways, so I'll die in your arms. I'm sick of fighting with doctors over all that. I'm just done."

Ollie looked down at Anthony. Yes, he knew that Anthony would see various doctors over the years, but he didn't know Anthony was actually sick.

"Oh..."

Ollie looked down at his watch. It had five more years left on it.

"Hey... It's getting late... We should go back."

Anthony said, "Ollie, we just got here. Are you upset? The doctors said I have time. I've got plenty of time. Me and you... we're running away together. Stay with me."

He grabbed Ollie's hand and pulled it to his chest, right over his heart. He asked in a softer tone of voice, "Will you?"

Ollie said, "Of course I will, Anthony."

Anthony asked, "Can you feel my heart beating?"

"I do," Ollie responded.

Anthony said, "It's beating for you. I love you."

"I... I love you too."

"I've loved you since the day I met you. I never have seen such a beautiful boy. When I look into your eyes I see the sun. Then I look to your face as a whole and I see the stars. There's been nights where I lay awake, aching for you to be by my side. I knew I loved you as more than a friend long ago... Tell me, did you feel the same way?"

Ollie said, "I did. I look at you and see eyes as blue as the sky. Your cheeks are the color of sunsets. Your smile is brighter than any ray of light. I always knew I'd meet you. You're the man I dreamed of for years. I've been in love with you for years and years."

Anthony smiled at him and said, "Love me for years more then, and even longer after that, because when I'm on my death bed I'll be thinking about you as I drift off to sleep. My heart will stop beating, but I'll still love you... Do you think we're moving too fast?"

Ollie said, "Anthony, I'm sure I love you. If you're sure you love me, then you're moving just right."

Anthony smiled and kissed Ollie's cheek. "I am in love," he whispered immediately after. He then kissed Ollie's forehead. "I know I am."

Ollie traced his fingers along Anthony's cheek. His lover's skin was soft. He closed his eyes and let all his other senses take over.

He eventually kissed Anthony. After that they went back to their seats and fell asleep.

This was the start of Anthony's five year forever plan.

Beginning Chapter 22: Anthony and Ollie lived together for the next five years. They shared a little cabin in the middle of nowhere. Nobody disturbed them. They didn't disturb the world.

Five years was all Anthony had.

For five years every morning Ollie would wake up and see Anthony beside him. There was nothing to disturb Anthony's peaceful sleep... At least most of the time. Sometimes Ollie couldn't help but kiss Anthony until he woke up.

On sunny days they'd go outside after breakfast. Rainy days were spent reading books together. In the winter snow they'd go outside and stay out until their fingertips were purple.

They had the best life together.

It all ended one hazy February. Ollie knew Anthony's time was here. For the first time in a long time, it felt like this life shouldn't be over.

Ollie laid beside Anthony in bed.

"Hey Ollie... I'm going to go back to sleep now... I don't think I'm going to wake up."

Tears were starting to drip from the corners of Anthony's eyes. "-But that's alright though."

Ollie said, "It's not. You should have life ahead of you. You're too good to die like this."

Anthony grabbed Ollie's hand and sighed, "No. I don't. I've lived my life."

"But we haven't done anything except come here. I promised you good memories to die with."

"Oh," Anthony sighed, "You've gave me the best memories to die with. You've gave me five years of us together. You've gave me love. You gave me sunny days and smiles. It's all I could ever want. You're my everything, so when I go on, I know you'll be right here."

Ollie hugged him and said, "I will be right here... I've always been right here."

Anthony broke out into a coughing fit. When he finished coughing he laid his head on his pillow.

Ollie had tears rolling down his cheeks.

Anthony closed his eyes and said, "Don't cry. I've came, and now I'll go, passing like the wind. I hope you'll find love again. I know this love is one in a million, but maybe you'll find someone like me... Just maybe you'll find someone to make you happy."

Ollie sighed, "We've built this life together. There's nobody who can make me as happy as you... Plus, don't they say love lasts longer than a lifetime?"

"Perhaps that's true. Perhaps it is... I love you, Ollie."

"I love you too."

After that Anthony drifted off to sleep. Ollie stayed there beside him. He listened to Anthony's heart beat. It was weak, but there. It took it a while to fade out.

"He was right... He didn't wake up again."

---------

So, I dunno if that's sad. @theravenclawrevolutionary said it was sad, but it might be not sad if you don't know how many times Ollie has watched Anthony die.

This is everything I need in life! The gay! The fluff! The angst! Beautiful!

Submitted by @aziraphalestartanunderwear

[bengtssonbengtsson2-blog]

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[charactersadvocatechimata]

Blood Is Not The Only Game In Town

Natasha, having nothing better to do this evening, has found themselves making a game of ‘what is the pervert after.’ Again. Most likely, he's been aiming for their chest, not as if the man in questions has made much progress but the general swing of those paws and his almost focused eyesight at their chest are good indicators. Of course, the way they are leaning against the bar with their hips out, the target could be their ass. It is a fine ass.

Currently, it’s the bonus round: is he aware that his attempts at stilted conversation in no way hide his true purpose. His random laughing at what, they assume, are supposed to be jokes, not squashed alphabet soup, implies that no he does not.

After some more jokes, something finally seems to click in that booze drowning noggin of his, as the man straightens and furiously blinks at them. “So da you a girl or a boi?”

There is no suppressing the quirk of their sultry sangria painted lips, because this part, this is the part where they get to put on a bit of a show. They widen their smile into a predatory grin showing off a pair of pearly fangs. “Neither. I’m a vampire.”

(Cut. Mobile Beware.)

There is the polite pause for the punch line because a vampire existing in reality always seems to short circuit most mortals brain. Something that exists that humanity never seems to comprehend. An impossibility, their brain always reasons. Yet the man has lost the patience for that some bottles ago and instead just scrunches his nose.

“Iss joke?”

“Wanna test that theory and step out for a bite?” They softly snap their teeth driving in the point and giggle when he rapidly shakes his head, backs up, missing the stool and falling flat on his butt. Yet they hardly snort at the man’s comic retreat because that brings them back to the reason they entered the bar in the first place. Boredom.

When the Thirteenth offered to turn them all that filled their mind was the power that would be gain, the possibility of flight, and the only noteworthy side-effect was losing the ability to eat. Not that food was ever a major priority for them, and they do prefer blood. It’s both quick and efficient. But the boredom. The boredom. Damn him for never mentioning the fucking boredom.

“Please Ty. I don’t want too.”

Natasha tipped their head, trying to filter out the crap for that nugget of something-fucking finally- interesting. Maybe a fight. Not that they would ever start a bar fight on purpose.

“Really, you are such a fucking embarrassment, Anthony.”

Their sight jumps from face to face, but there is nothing but gawkers and drunkards everywhere. Useless fuckers existing only to block their view of the sight. The only thing to do is stand on a table.

“I don’t care Ty. I don’t care. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the girls that prance in and out of our apartment. Sick of the boys you fuck in our bed. But mostly I’m sick of you.”

Natasha hears a strike, and it attracts more gawkers to the scene, acting as a path for Natasha to follow.

“You worthless slut. You don’t get to talk down to me. We are leaving.”

“No! I’m not going home with you.”

There. In the corner of the room, slowly being surrounded by flesh clumps drawn to the same spectacle Natasha was, a mop of dark hair and brown eyes that almost glowed goldenly. Anthony, if they heard the name correctly, held himself taut, with his shoulder near his head but his eyes told a different story. His eyes remained defiant even as small, possible only perceived by a creature like themself, shudders shook his small frame.

“Ty. Let go. Please.”

This time the hit isn’t just a sound they picked from the crowd. Now it’s the reddening of his cheek, the iron tang smell of blood, and the smaller mortal refusing to back down. Something in that moment struck a chord within Natasha. They found a strange desire to be an actor in this ridiculous farce. It is the only reason they figured for why their in front of “Anthony” and the attacker is slumped against a wall. The wall that may have a small crack. Oops.

The crowd is apparently not as drunk as Natasha had guesstimated. Because several of the onlookers are showing beginning signs of panic. And really, they do not want to deal with those SHIELD nimrods. Clint was fine and sometimes Coulson, but they weren’t always that lucky. Mostly they’re never that lucky.

“Come. We need to leave.”

Anthony must be in shock or something. His eyes still have that ‘trapped in the light’ look. Also, blinking. A fair amount of blinking. Huh. Natasha had kinda forgotten that humans did that. They huff. More and more phones are being pulled out, although people usually take pictures sometimes there is that one square that will inevitably call the police.

They don’t even stop to think before their arm is securely wrapped around Anthony’s chest, backflipping out the window (maybe it was a wall) shielding him from the glass and running down towards the park near their apartment. Under Natasha’s least hated tree, they dumb the boy onto the grass. He still doing that dazed blinking thing.

“Anthony? You okay? Should I steal something for you?”

“Tony. Don’t call me Anthony. Or Mr. Stark. Please. I just- No. Okay.”

Tony has curled into one of the smallest balls Natasha has ever seen. It reminds them of a kitten abandoned by its mother. They are rather fond of cats. But Tony isn’t a pet. He is a wild animal and needs to go home. They nudge their foot against Tony’s leg. He flinches. They bite the inside of their cheek. “Can I walk or carry you home?”

He laughs. And laughs. The pitch dancing wildly around them. Ending with a hitched breath and a soft sob. “I live with the bastard. I- I don’t have anywhere to go. I’ve been abandoned. By everybody.” There is another soft sob from Tony. “Isn’t that the funniest thing you ever heard?”

“No.”

“No? Do you pity me then?”

“No. I’ve been abandoned too. It happens.”

Tony uncurls from his ball. His eyes are wet from the tears that are still silently rolling down his face. Natasha's impressed. They didn’t think that it was possible for someone to cry while making no sound. They never managed that. All they could do was bury it all. Even the metaphorical bleeding.

He pushes himself up, sitting on his knees. The iron is back in those Bambi eyes, and Natasha finds themself genuinely curious to hear what the mortal will say. “Could you please do me a favor?”

They purse their lips and bunch their eyebrows even as they tingle in anticipation. “It depends. The devil is in the details.”

“True,” Tony smirks. “My son is back at the apartment. Could you please help me save him? I cannot abandon him. I will not abandon him.”

Not quite what they were expecting. Maybe a little revenge. Some maiming would have been fun. But a child. What a surprise. Natasha hadn’t figured Tony as the child rearing type. Nor that he was even old enough to have his own. “Isn’t sixteen a little young to be having a baby?”

“I’m twenty-one.” He bites and huffs and pouts. “And my kid is three, almost four, thank you very much.”

Natasha smiles offering a hand for Tony to lift himself up. They figured no more surprise. What were the chances that the same mortal would surprise them, not twice but three times? But damn. Was Dum-E, Tony’s only son, one hell of a surprise. They might have cursed a little, inside their head of course, when Tony made the introductions. But he didn’t have to know that.

Although, Natasha would never have considered a giant metal arm to be anyone’s child. Tony insisted that it had some form of artificial intelligence. And they had seen books about the concept. Yet artificial intelligence had always sounded a little too much like a conman’s newest game.

They had even spent an entire moment considering if Tony’s whole night was some trick, a misguided attempt to find the Thirteenth, but Natasha had never seen or heard so much love before. Tony loved Dum-E fiercely. You’d have to be incredibly stupid or oblivious or both to miss it. He cooed at the arm, petted it like it was alive, and talked it through it’s ‘anxiety’ as they loaded into a stolen van.

Driving to their apartment, Natasha had only asked if the metal arm really understood what was happening and what Tony was saying. That prompted him to launch a lecture regarding modern technology, computers, and artificial intelligence. They understood nothing, not even where to nod. But Tony was in some far off world and hardly noticed.

Probably not a trick.

@@@

“Okay. Fine. But did ya have to bring the two strays here? To our real apartment.”

Natasha rolls their eyes. “Tony and Dum-E are not strays. They’re my new cats.”

“They are wild animals.”

“That I’ve domesticated. You’ll love the both of them. Dum-E likes to play fetch, and Tony has the most beautiful purr.”

“No, Natasha.”

They pout. Tilting their head in a way they know most perceive as fragile. Probably is that the two of them have known each other far too long. In the end, all they get for their trouble is a snort and a roll of his hand indicating for them to move the act along. “You got both Steve and Sam. I don’t see why I can’t have my Tony and Dum-E.”

“That’s different. And you know that Natasha.” He scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “And Sam is not my anything. Steve picked that one up all on his own. Fucking bird brain.”

“So Steve gets his pet, and I don’t.”

“It’s too dangerous.” He growls low and demanding. He tries to use his position as their “Father.” There isn’t anything they can do against him. But that doesn't stop them from letting the red bleed into their eyes covering the color they’ve had since birth, an unusually glowing green color.

His eyes flinch away. There is always so much guilt when they transform their eyes. Some sort of reminder that Natasha never understood. Why turn them if he was going to hold all that guilt? However, they never saw his eyes any color but gray. Gray like the day they both met, with all that snow. When they thought they would become the snow.

Now he's just staring at them. Now they are just staring back. It would probably have continued if a voice hadn’t spoken up.

“If it’s about the both of you being supernaturals, I don’t care. And I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

He smiles warmly, a farce if ever they saw one, at Tony trying to appear human. Yet coming off more as a predator than if he just acted naturally. Not surprising since the man had never been anything close to human. “I’m not-”

“The redhead who, at most is a hundred and twenty pounds, easily pushed a two hundred pound man into a wall, lifted someone of similar weight, and backflipped through a concrete wall. Of course, even if you ignore all that, her-”

“They, if you please.” Natasha blows a kiss at Tony.

“If you ignore all that, even their entire presence screams danger. And then there is you. Stand against them like you would ultimately be the winner in the fight. You have to be so stupid to ignore that and think ‘Oh, my. These are some strange people I’ve met.’” Tony finishes with a snort.

It doesn’t stop there. Tony doesn’t back down. Just like before. It is exciting. Exciting! They hear Thirteenth’s heart spike. It takes all their control not to smile wide with all their teeth. They can see it now clearly written on Thirteenth’s face. Desire. Something that is entirely new for them. Desire is something that is so very mortal. An urge that quickly dies away when death is no longer a fathomable concept. For the most part, Thirteenth made decisions as if he had a checklist to complete. Steve was one check, and Natasha knows she was another. Sam and Clint were probably on this imaginary list as well.

Tony was different. They knew Tony was different.

It’s exciting. Unexpected. Oh, they lusted after the unexpected.

“Fine. You can stay the night. Only the night.” Thirteenth growls out each word. Then looking away. Trying pull of an act of apathy, disinterest in Tony. Hardly works with the way his body is vibrating.

“Can I get your names before you dash into the night?”

Thirteenth hesitates.

It’s clear that giving Tony both their names would be reckless, creating a connection. Really they almost felt pity for Thirteenth. “I’m Natasha.” They gestured at Thirteenth, just a beat away from naming him. Watching his horror as he is forced to form a relationship with Tony.

“James. Call me James, Tony.”

“Okay, then. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

James. . . leaves. Natasha follows. It’s been a long time since they wanted to pull him apart with their eyes. “James, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You told me to call you Winter. Steve calls you Bucky. Sam says, Hobo. Yet Tony gets James.”

“So?”

“It’s a name.”

“Yeah, it is.” He reveals nothing. It’s irritating but ultimately the game they both must play.

“You know, by human standards, Tony is completely legal.”

James. James actually blushes. Red checks. Red ears. Downcast eyes. Actual embarrassment. “Shut up.”

Best night. They can’t wait to tell Clint all the gossipy details.